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#dean x
luci-in-trenchcoats · 25 days
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The Husband Effect
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Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...
Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)
Word Count: 2,200ish
Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff
A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!
__________
“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”
“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”
“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”
“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.
“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”
“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.
“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.
“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”
“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”
“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.
“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”
“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”
“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”
“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”
“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.
“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.
“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”
“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.
“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”
“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”
“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”
“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.
“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 
“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.
“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.
“Please hurry Sam.”
One Week Later
“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”
“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”
“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.
“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”
“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”
“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”
“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 
“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”
“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.
“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.
“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”
“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”
“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 
“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”
“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”
“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”
“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”
“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.
“I promise, Y/N.”
“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.
“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.
“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”
“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 
“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.
“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.
“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”
“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”
“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”
“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”
“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”
“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“
“I do feel loved,” said Dean.
“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.
“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”
“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.
“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”
“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.
“Cool with it?” you asked.
“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”
“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.
“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.
“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”
One Year Later
“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 
“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”
“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”
“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.
“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.
“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”
“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”
“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”
“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.
“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.
“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”
“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.
“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.
“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”
“You got something special planned?” you asked.
“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”
“You read my mind.”
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winchester-girl67 · 3 months
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Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort
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Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 
Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"
Pairing: Dean x reader 
Word Count: 902 
Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 
A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 
_____
“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 
Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 
You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 
The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 
You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 
You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 
First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 
Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 
It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 
Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.
You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 
Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 
Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 
"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 
His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 
"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 
"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 
You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 
He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 
You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 
"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 
You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 
"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 
Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 
There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 
Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 
He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 
And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 
_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy
SPN: @hobby27
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wild-lavender-rose · 4 months
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I Choose You
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Summary: You wake up in the hospital after a brutal beating with a demon that nearly killed you. Thinking he had lost you, Dean shows you just how much you mean to him.
Warning: Mention of injuries, mild language 
Note: This is yet another story I found in my drafts from over two years ago that I started and didn’t finish. Probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy <3 
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     “Baby,” your brow furrowed, reaching out to brush your hand against Dean’s arm. “Dean.” 
     Dean’s head jerked up from where he had been slumped over your bedside. “Baby.” He grabbed your hand, eyes glassy with exhaustion and tears. 
     “Dean,” 
     “I’m here, baby, I’m here.” He reached for you, cradling the side of your face. “How’re you feelin’?” 
     “M’sore.” You looked around you, foggy head beginning to clear. You were in the hospital. Machines beeped by your bed, keeping track of your pulse. Your arms were covered with thick white bandages. Much of your exposed skin was littered with scratches and ugly purple bruises. Sam was in the corner asleep in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. He looked awful but Dean looked worse. 
     “What, why am I,” you reached up, fingers curling around his wrist. “The demon.” 
     “Got you pretty bad.” 
     “Did you get him?” 
     “Sent him straight back to hell.” Dean made a brave attempt at a smile for you, but his eyes continued to shine with unshed tears. 
     “Dean.” You nuzzled against his palm, kissing his skin with chapped lips. “Dean,” 
     “I thought,” Dean cleared his throat, glancing over at Sam before returning his focus to you. “I thought I’d lost you.” 
     “I’m okay, just a couple scratches.” You tried to lean closer but winced, causing Dean to grimace. “I promise I’m okay.” 
     “No, you’re not. God I hate this life,” A tear slipped down Dean’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have been in that fight, I should have protected you,” 
     “Dean, I chose to fight by your side,” 
     “You shouldn’t have to choose that, I shouldn't be a hunter in the first place!” 
     “Shh,” you looked over at Sam to make sure he was still asleep, watching his relaxed face for a moment before looking back at Dean. “Dean,” 
     Dean had his head in his hands, shoulders taunt with frustration and so, so many unshed tears. You nudged him, hand slipping through his hair and sliding to his neck when he looked up at you. “It’s worth it.” You whispered, eyes beginning to sting with tears of your own. “We save people, Dean. We hunt monsters and send them back to hell.” 
     “Baby, you nearly died,” 
     “And I'd do it again, okay?” The tears began to fall as you grabbed his hand and held it tight. “I choose you, Dean. And this life. I don't wanna be or do anything else.” 
     Dean smiled at that, a smile soft and pained. And still, after everything he’d been through, a smile. For you. “I love you.” 
     “I love you too.” You kissed his bruised knuckles, closing your eyes as Dean shifted closer to kiss your forehead. “You’re mine.” 
     Dean chuckled softly. “And you’re mine.” He whispered, sealing the promise with another kiss. 
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Hard to Love - Part One
Pairing: MOC!Dean/Demon!Dean x Reader 
Prompt: While dating Dean, he gets more and more reclusive toward you when he is given the Mark of Cain. Unable to handle the behavior, you leave but some part of him isn’t willing to let you go. 
Word Count: 3883 :) 
Warnings: Angst, Break-Up, Violence, Demon!Dean, lots of tears. 
Author’s Note: I had this saved as a draft from the end of 2016, unfinished so I tried to finish it as well as I could. It just came out like word vomit but I’m not sure how much I like it. I tried my best to make it gender neutral so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! 
Part Two 
You noticed that when you were lying in bed, he had his back towards you, almost falling off the bed to get away from your presence. Unable to reach out and touch him in fear of rejection, you continued to stare at his Henley-covered back, watching his steady breaths.
"Dean? Is everything okay with us?" The question sounds weird, a lump pushing into your throat, uncomfortably. He answered with a grunt, nothing else, keeping with his recent code of silence toward you. A dejected hum leaves your lips.
Turning on your back, looking around the room at all the items -- with some of you sprinkled in-- that make it your shared room. Wringing your hands together as you think about where you can go, you can’t stay here anymore, not like this. You want to help him but how can you when he doesn’t even want to be near you?
                                                                              Something had changed in the last few weeks. He wouldn't look at you, let alone talk. He wouldn’t shut up with Sam and Cas, though. 
Maybe the hours of silence with me drove him to talk to them.
Dean is only close to you when you are in Baby, driving to a hunt. Not holding your hand anymore but instead gripping the wheel, knuckles turning white, not sparing a glance at you. You’d gone as far as changing the music, to a pop station nonetheless, in the middle of one of his songs, hopeful of a reaction.  
Yell! Look at me with disgust! Do something, please!
But par for the course, Dean does nothing. He stares at the road, unmoving and silent while Sam and you stare at him in disbelief. The tears well up as you look at the horizon to your right, trying your best to not break in front of either man. Trying to understand what you could do differently. 
You stop sitting up front. You don’t talk to him. You avoid him at the bunker. You respond with little-to-no passive-aggressive comments when Dean talks to you through Sam. You keep your crying to the bathroom and shower, alone. 
You knew the Mark would change him but not like this. 
He kissed you last week after a rough hunt, a close call with a witch causing a teeny moment of intimacy between you two. Both of you pulled away with wide eyes: yours in shock and his in... disappointment? He walked ran away before a talk could be had, disappearing somewhere in the main area, while you went to take a shower; a habit forming. 
No matter what you try he just keeps pulling away.
Do I keep trying? 
I can get my things together and leave by the next hunt. Dean won’t stop me if I want to stay home.
Home. The thought made it so much more real. This is your home; Dean is your home. You take a sharp breath through your nose, trying not to make too much noise as you got up, going somewhere the breakdown won’t bother Dean.
                                                                                When Sam comes up to you in the morning, letting you know that there’s a possible ghost in the next town over, an easy salt and burn. You sniffle for effect as you tell Sam that you’re not feeling the greatest, watching his eyes drop in sympathy. 
He throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward your bedroom.
“You shouldn’t be up then, dude. Go lay down, I’ll bring you some medicine before we leave, and I’ll tell Dean you aren’t coming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.” 
You don’t need to look at Sam to know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying but you thank him regardless, feeling guilty about what the future will be. A hug in the doorway, tighter on your end than usual, ends when he pulls away and helps you back into bed. 
Sam comes back with some pills and a cup of water, ice clinking against the glass, with each stride. “Do you need anything else?” 
With the blanket tucked under your chin, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna sleep it off and if it gets worse, I’ll text you, okay?” 
“Okay, I hope you feel better soon, (Y/N/N), and don’t beat yourself up about Dean. He’s not doing well with the Mark; he still loves you.” 
You close your eyes and turn your back to him after you nod to his comment, trying to hint that he’s good to leave and that if he stays, you’d rather not talk.
“Thanks, Sammy. I love ya.” 
“Love you too, (Y/N).” 
The click of the door shutting follows the flick of the light switch. And more tears. Silent and steady as you listen and wait for the departure that begins the end of life as you know it. 
Exhausted from the last few days of one-sided fighting, you try to fight off the sleep that takes over, but you slip under just as the hall light spills in when Dean peaks his head past the door frame. 
                                                                              It’s a few hours later when you wake up to a text from Sam, they’ve made it to the cozy town, and he will let you know when it’s done or if they have any problems. You let him know you feel better before wishing them luck on the hunt, getting up, and beginning the process of mission: Disappearing (Y/N). 
With a sigh, you start going through the knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, sighing again when you realize that all things will just remind you of him. Anger flares within you, the white-hot rage of your hand being forced, the whole situation out of your control. 
Leaving the small things and just grabbing your clothes from the closet, looking around the room for anything that could be useful on the trip. No mementos to save. You slam the door on your way out, going to your old room next, going through the same routine as before.
Two filled duffel bags sit in the back seat of your car when you finish, mostly clothes and things you’d brought with you when you moved into the bunker. Not running around anymore, the rush of adrenaline begins to fade turning into more anger. 
“Why!? I don’t understand?!” You hit the steering wheel with your palms, letting out a scream that transforms into an ugly wet, wail. 
A note laying in the war room, on the map table, explains why you left, addressed to Sam, in a last effort to be heard or at the very least get the last word. Your phone is on top of the note, showing the seriousness of your actions.
Sam,
Maybe we will see each other on the road again but I can’t stay somewhere I’m clearly not wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you and not saying goodbye in person. I don’t think I would’ve gone otherwise. Love ya, dude. Tell jerk face that I’ll always love him even if he has that mark on his arm, if he becomes a demon, or if he hates me. Always. 
I hope the best for you in the future. 
Goodbye,
(Y/N)
You wipe your nose with your sleeve, lifting your head from the steering wheel to embark on the journey to a new home. 
                                                                              In just a few months, you are settled in your new apartment in Colorado, taking a break from hunting to get familiar with the area. Neither Dean nor Sam gets into contact with you, whether that’s not wanting to or for lack of trying, you don’t know. 
With a new job in a library in town, you try to get past the guilt that sweeps over you every now and then, reminding yourself of the way you were treated. Of why you left in the first place. 
Unlocking the door after a long Monday of reshelving books, the silence of the apartment is disturbed by your keys going into the bowl next to the coat rack. You slip your shoes off before sliding your jacket off and onto the rack, turning to the living room and shouting in shock at Dean, who is standing, arms crossed, in front of the couch. 
“What the hell? Why are you in my house?” 
“Why do you have a devil’s trap in your living room?” He smirks, a glint in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Seems like you were expecting someone.” 
You put it there when you moved in, taking a page from Bobby’s book by using invisible blacklight paint. Decided that while one is useful in front of the door, the living room was also easy to run through if caught off guard, with no door to slow you down, and no one expects it there. 
Looking him over again before answering his question, his face is thinner than when you last saw him, hair gelled in a way that looks unnatural for him. His dark red button-up hangs loosely on his body. 
“For this reason. Though I can’t say I expected you to be stuck in it. Who killed you?” 
“Metatron. Though to be fair, I did try to kill him first.” You hum as he tries-- and fails-- to sit on the couch. “You couldn’t have made this any smaller, huh?” 
The smirk on his face only grows as he feels irritation roll off of you. “What do you want, Dean?” 
Now it’s his turn to look you up and down, wetting his lips before speaking. “I can think of a couple things.” 
You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom. 
“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking, sweetheart!” 
You ignore his words and change into comfortable clothes before dialing Sam’s number, deciding that letting him know was better than waiting for any more of Dean’s antics. 
“Hello?”
“Sam? It’s (Y/N). Dean just showed up at my house and got stuck in a devil’s trap.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.
Another shout from the living room brings tears to your eyes, the love of your life so close but so far at the same time. 
“Just wanted to talk to ya! You gonna leave me out here alone?” 
Sam asks for your address, giving you the details of what had conspired in the last couple of weeks: Dean dying and being turned into a demon, then bolting and teaming up with Crowley-- doing only God knows what around the country-- meanwhile Sam is doing everything he can to find and cure his brother.
“I’m not too far from you but I’ll still be awhile. Like...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “maybe seven hours. I’m sorry I can’t get there sooner.” 
“It’s okay, I’ll keep him here. I can’t say he’ll be in a happy mood when you get here.” 
“Well, he won’t be happy to see me anyway, so it won’t matter. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll let you know when I get there.” 
“Okay, see you soon, Sam.” 
With a deep breath, you slid out into the hallway, building up the confidence to make yourself visible to Dean. 
“You can do this. Make your dinner and ignore the living, breathing, talking, statue in the middle of your apartment.” Nodding to yourself, you walk out with your chin up. 
“There you are!” 
Dean’s eyes follow you past him and the couch as you move to the kitchen. Keeping busy with the leftovers, you avoid making eye contact with Dean, brushing his announcement off with silence. When you put the plate of chicken and rice into the microwave, your focus drifts from the timer counting down to those vibrant pools of green, ominous black hiding behind them. 
His eyebrows raise up in amusement, “You lose. Are you going to talk to me now?” 
“How ‘bout no.” You cross your arms, scoffing at the question.
“You just did, baby. Now just hear me out, you said you’d still love me as a demon, but this doesn’t feel like love to me.” 
He chuckles darkly at the end of his words. His demeanor changes: eyebrows pulling down, eyes darkening, and a sneer coming onto his lips. 
The microwave beeps, pulling your attention away, though your words slip out before you can think about it. “I do still love you, jerk face.” 
It’s not a secret or a lie, you just didn’t want to say it aloud. It had been peaceful dissociating from all that and using every waking moment to adjust to the new way of living without him, not knowing if he would ever come back. 
The plate hits the counter harder than you mean for it to, tears stinging your eyes again. “What do you want from me, Dean? I left so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about whatever the fuck you felt guilty about. You didn’t want to explain it to me then, what do you possibly have to say now?” 
A split second of shock passes Dean’s face before it’s back to anger. He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything, pulling the silverware drawer open and grabbing a fork. 
“No, seriously. I. Don’t. Care. There really is no fucking excuse for what you put me through. So, unless you want to say sorry-- which I highly doubt, considering the black eyes rolling around back there-- shut up.” You slam the drawer: the loud noise and rattling of metals end your shouting. Taking a deep breath and beginning to eat, your back turned away from him, with a tiny, fragment of hope he actually listens. 
He blows a raspberry, “Well, that’s where you are sorely mistaken. I’m sorry for what the numb nuts did to you. To think, I could’ve had you from the beginning if he’d just said a few words to you now and again.” 
Your chewing stops as the food becomes a rock in your mouth, no longer able to swallow as you listen to him. Staring ahead at the balcony door as he continues spewing words at you. 
“Instead of all the cheap whores in dingy bars, I could’ve had you. Waiting on little ole’ me.” It’s clear from his tone that he is mocking you, taunting your words. Even though the relationship is over, the words make your chest twist uncomfortably, your watery eyes finally spilling over. 
“Whatever, have fun out here by yourself.” You leave the half-eaten meal on the counter, not sparing a glance at the man as you pass him to go to your room, keeping your head down to hide the tears that stream down your face. 
Slamming the door, shoving your face in a pillow, and screaming to relieve the stress of the situation, only helps bring more cries out of you. You know it’s not the Dean you knew talking to you but the twisted and dark version, wanting what he wants with no care about who it may affect. 
The darkness of your eyelids fluttering takes over you as you fall asleep to Dean’s calls to you. A dream of your life from before fills your head, one more moment with Dean that you can hope to forget when you wake.
                                                                            You jerk awake when your phone buzzes from a text, the vibrations magnified by the wood of the side table. Two texts from Sam illuminate the screen. 
From Sam: I just got into town I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
From Sam: Just got to your apartment. You get my first text?
To Sam: Sorry, fell asleep. 2C. Door’s unlocked for you. 
From Sam: I’ll be up there soon. 
When you take a moment to listen, it’s completely silent. Panicking at the thought that Dean was able to get away before Sam and you could cure him, you rush to the living room. Dean stands still, glaring at you as you appear from the hallway.
His lips are drawn into a sneer as he snarls, “how nice of you to come to see your guest.” 
The door opens as he ends, catching his attention, a scoff comes from him when Sam comes around the door. 
“I told you to fuck off, Sam. I don’t want you to be cured.”
Sam just shrugs, putting the duffel bag on the couch, and unloading some tools to get Dean back to the bunker with little to no issues. 
“Dean, you told me that you’d leave (Y/N) alone. So, what’s that about? Tired of the demon life?” 
Sam motions to you, hair crumpled from the impromptu nap, eyes, and nose red from crying. “You’ve been bar hopping for weeks on end, new people in your bed every night. Your freaking wet dream. Why are you here, ripping open an old wound, on someone who clearly doesn’t want shit from you?”  
“I saw you. You were at the bar in town, with some others, didn’t even notice me when I sat down at the bar top-- can’t say your observation skills were ever the best anyway.” Dean eyes you as he speaks, watching your jaw clench at the small dig toward you. 
“And then I get a call from some dude about how he caught Sam and if I wanted him back alive, I’d have to switch places with him, I told him to fuck off and came here instead. Looks like you made it alright, didn’t ya, Sammy?” 
“Yup, just like always.” He puts his good hand on your back, steering you towards the kitchen. 
“What the hell, seriously, Sam? What happened?” 
Sam leans against the countertop, his chin resting on his chest as he takes a deep breath. You reach into the freezer for a bag of peas, wrap it in a towel, and press it to his black eye, letting him hold the makeshift icepack when he winces. 
“He pulled up when I was stranded on the side of the road, I thought he was going to help but he knocked me out and brought me to an old barn, maybe?” 
His head drops, no longer making eye contact with you. 
“He called Dean and then when Dean hung up, he just went off.” Mocking the man who had tortured him only a day before, Sam’s voice lowers comically, “He killed my father in front of me...Two tours in Iraq in Special OPS...blah blah blah. Then he hit me a bunch, trying to get Dean’s location.” 
Two tours in Iraq? Special OPS? 
His pause allows you to ask your next question of many, “how did you get away?” 
“He got a phone call and when he pulled his phone out, his knife fell from his pocket, and I just got out.” 
A twinge of doubt and anxiety spread through you, the words “that seems too easy” on your lips after he explains. He finally looks back at you, seeing the questioning expression on your face.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He lowers the frozen peas when you make your way to the living room again. 
“You mean to tell me that a solider, not just any ol’ solider at that, special OPS who served two tours in Iraq and he just dropped a knife, that let you get away?” 
As if to emphasize your point, the whole house goes dark. You reach the bookshelf behind Dean, both men watching you. The few beats of silence are broken when the front window breaks, a canister rolling onto the floor behind the couch, spraying a thick, white cloud of smoke. 
It reaches Sam first, harsh coughs coming from him as he yells for you to get to the backyard. Feeling the wall by the bookcase, you find the string taped to the wall that will break the seal when pulled. Feeling your eyes water, nose and throat burning, you tug the string with you as you move toward the back door, breaking the trap’s seal, and releasing Dean.
The smoke impedes your vision, your hip catches on the corner of the couch making you stumble to the floor, and more coughs force their way up through your lips. 
Arms encircle your waist, and harsh whispers come over your shoulder, “Jesus, your life is in danger, and you release the demon, how sickening.” He helps you to the fresh air that burns when you greedily suck it down. 
Dean’s support leaves your body, your knees hitting the moist grass that seeps through your sweatpants. When you open your eyes, you have to blink past the tears to see Sam lying next to you and Dean in front of you.  An unknown voice speaks to Dean, emotional and hate-filled, “You remember me?” 
“Yeah, you’re the guy from that thing.” 
“We talked on the phone. This is payback.”
The two men begin to fight, Dean doesn’t even try to pull punches, continuing to belittle him, yelling coming from Cole with every hit that he takes. Sam moves, waking up from a hit to the head, eyes meeting yours before flitting to Dean. Dean taunts and throws the man’s gun to the side, winking at you before he turns back to the fight.
“...spitballing here, but maybe you’re not as good as you think.” 
A pause from Dean before he laughs. “Ooh,” Dean’s hands go up in a fake surrender wave, “You know kung-fu?”
“I know everything.”
Dean gets into Cole’s face after quoting The Princess Bride, making his first mistake as Cole slices his face with his knife. Going to stab, only angering Dean more when he grabs Cole’s throat.
“You have no idea what you walked into, do you?”
“What are you?” 
Knowing Dean’s eyes are black at the expression on Cole’s face, you close your eyes, hearing the rest of the fight and Cole egging Dean on to kill him. 
“I changed my mind, I guess.” Dean chuckles before he breaks out in a hiss.
“It’s over! Stop.” 
You open your eyes and see that Sam has managed to get the Devil’s trap handcuffs on Dean. A murderous look on Dean’s face, staring up at Sam from his knees. Sam ignores his brother’s glare, looking at you as you sit back on your heels. “You okay, (Y/N/N)?”
You nod, watching Sam force Dean into the back of Baby, unable to take your eyes off Dean, who continues to kill Sam with his unblinking, scowl. 
Sam helps you up, keeping an eye on Dean so he can’t escape. “You can come with us. I’m giving the first blade to Crowley and I’m going to try to cure him. I don’t know if it’ll work but I’m hopeful.” 
You look back to your house; in the scuffle to get Dean, neither you nor Sam see where Cole flees to-- the feeling of safety and home lost, now that the invasion is over. 
Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding and speaking softly, “yeah, let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down. You might need some help with him.” 
Looking back at Dean, you speak again, unsure how firm the words are. “I’ll stay until he’s cured but after that, I’m gonna go.” 
                                                                          Part Two
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ao3topshipsbracket · 6 months
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AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Round 2 Side 1
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This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.
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poltoreveur · 3 months
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I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.
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existential-queeer · 5 months
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Back in November of 2020, I tried explaining to my mother what was happening within the Supernatural fandom, which she understood none of. I told her about it so often that whenever I'd go "oh god not again" near her, she'd say "what language did they go canon in this time?"
Jump forward to now, November 3rd 2023, and I receive these texts from my mother:
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she downloaded Tumblr just to be aware of what the fuck is going on with my silly little gay shows
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sournmoon · 5 months
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Happy Destiel day!
[ID: Destiel confession meme. Castiel says, "I love you". Dean, covered in butterflies and sparkles, replies, in pink sparkly text, "Sparkle on! It's november 5th! Don't forget to be yourself!" End ID]
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l0velysmut · 9 days
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family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”
me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:
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shelbybyr · 6 months
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When you run out of fics to read
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nahpkmp · 1 month
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Poor poor boy
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The Ranger (Part 1)
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Summary: The reader is trying to enjoy her vacation in the rainy forest in her cozy cabin when an unexpected heat comes on. But things turn dangerous fast and she needs the help of a local forest ranger to get out of it. But she wasn't expecting his help to include claiming her and being her true mate. Because something isn't right and her Alpha is keeping something from her...
Masterlist
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader
Word Count: 5,300ish
Warnings: language, life threatening medical situation, angst
A/N: Please enjoy this first part!
_______
This was not an ideal situation. You’d finally done it and taken that solo vacation in the mountains. A cozy cabin in a retreat from the world. The trees had turned already and were bare but the damp, cloudy rainy day would have been perfect to curl up by the wood fireplace and get through that stack of books you’d been meaning to.
Except your heat, your heat that’d always been on schedule since you’d started having them, was three fucking weeks early. You didn’t have any medicine besides a few pain killers meant for headaches, not dangerous cramps, and the cabin only had basics meant for allergies or a cold. You needed heat suppressants soon if you didn’t want to go into a full heat. 
Which again, wasn’t an ideal situation since you didn’t have a flippin’ mate.
You could have tried to trek back to civilization through the winding dirt road but it’d taken two hours on the way in. Two hours of intense cramps? No way were you making that drive.
“Shit,” you said, walking slowly to the service room on the lower floor of the cabin where a radio at a table sat. Because of course you wanted to vacation somewhere without people, that meant no cell service either.
A rumble of cramps passed through you, warmth flaring your insides. You gritted your teeth and grabbed the radio, turning the frequency to the ranger station listed on the sheet on the table for emergencies.
“Hello, uh, forest service? I need help,” you said, closing your eyes as pain radiated up your spine. You frowned for a moment, the radio crackling. “Hello? I-”
“This is station 327, Ranger Winchester. What’s the emergency?” asked a strong, serious voice. You bit your bottom lip as you imagined he was an Alpha, your core quivering at the idea of getting a knot. “Mam? Please respond.”
“M-My heat’s early. It’s real bad and I have no medication. I-I’m in the Vrbo cabin off route 37, Mount Dusk I think it was called. I-”
“This line is for true emergencies. Your heat being a few days early and you being an unprepared Omega is not-”
“Listen asshole,” you snarled, gasping when your stomach threatened to curl in on itself. “It’s three fucking weeks early which everyone knows isn’t normal. I need a fucking heat kit, a strong one, or a fucking knot now and since I’m out here alone, all I got is your ass. So get me my shit and-FUCK!”
You dropped the radio as you bent over, falling to your knees. Something was wrong. Heat’s didn’t come on this fast, not even when you scented your true mate.
You could hear noise through the radio but your head was thrumming, your body grateful for the cold wood floor below you. It wasn’t possible to die from a heat, was it? If you let the fever go you supposed but it took days and days for that to happen and you’d only felt crappy for an hour. Yeah, you’d be just fine. This guy would bring you medicine and you’d be fine.
Right?
You blinked open your eyes when you heard glass break. Crap, you’d passed out for who knew how long. The overwhelming scent of Alpha hit you and despite the pain, you shot upright, staring at the man in the wet raincoat as he reached his hand through the broken pane and undid the lock. He froze when he saw you, his own scent shifting subtly. A hint of fear under the surface.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, raking his eyes over your sweat drenched body. He took off his backpack, pulling out a white box and a bottle of water, cautiously setting them on the ground and sliding them over to you.
“I look that bad, huh?” you said, ripping open the box and finding the medicine you needed, knocking it back with a swig of water. 
“You’re in heat and I don’t want to be accused of doing shit I didn’t,” he said. You narrowed your eyes, hand fisting in your own shirt over your stomach. That shouldn’t have been happening still. Heat medication worked instantly. “What’s-”
You fell over again, clutching your abdomen, head spinning, body going haywire at his scent.
“Please,” you whispered, finding his hard eyes. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I-I need you to-”
“I can’t.” A wracked sob slipped past your lips as something in your broke, pain flooding every single cell. You just needed a knot and it would be bearable. He muttered to himself and quickly you were in strong arms, your own wrapping around him shakily. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“I’ll pay you,” you whispered, hating how that sounded but he simply carried you out in the pouring rain, the cold air helping your skin not feel so hot.
“I’m on Novi-Alpha. If I knotted you,, you’d fucking die so I’m sorry but I can’t help you like that even if I wanted to.”
“I’m gonna die from this fucking fever anyways!” you shouted as he opened the backdoor of a rugged looking jeep. 
“One’s a chance, one’s a guarantee,” he said, setting you down, your arms still clinging to him. He eyed you, forcibly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away. “You will not die, understand me? Now let me get you to a hospital.”
You reached for him but he moved away too quickly, closing the door. He ducked into the cabin to retrieve his bag before he was behind the wheel.
“Honey Dusk Hospital is aware you’re in a dangerous heat,” he said, turning the jeep around and driving down the dirt road, way faster than you had.
“Don’t kill me in a fucking car accident on the way,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.
“This vehicle is meant for these roads, unlike your car. We’ll be on route 37 in thirty minutes, at the hospital in forty five.” You threw your head back, his musky scent filling the small space. 
“Distract me,” you breathed out. “Fuck you smell so good. If you weren’t on Novi-Alpha, I’d climb you like a fucking tree.”
“Whoa lady. Calm down-”
“Don’t lady me. We’re like the same fucking age.”
“You say fucking a lot, you realize.”
“You have your insides tearing apart and tell me you wouldn’t be cursing-” You shouted, bracing yourself against the door panel, feeling him step on the gas harder. “What the fuck is happening to me?”
“...I have an idea,” he said quietly. You flashed open your eyes, looking at his incredible scruff covered jawline, his gaze focused on the bumpy, wet road ahead. 
“What? Are you a doctor? Are-”
“No. I only know my basic medical training.” He frowned, rounding a tight corner. “It’s probably not a heat and you’re just sick.”
“I know what a heat feels like thank you very much.” You shivered violently, the ranger sighing. “What’s your name?”
“Dean Winchester. Try to rest. We’ll be there soon.”
The ranger’s suggestion to rest had, shockingly, not worked. By the time you were speeding down this small town’s streets, you were shaking so hard you literally couldn’t stop. Dean had reached back more than once as he drove with a handheld thermometer, muttering a few f-bombs to himself.
At least he wasn’t the one with a hundred and five temperature. A hundred and five and a half to be exact. You were pretty sure your heat was about to boil the fuck out of you and kill you within the next hour.
Dean said something but you didn’t hear him over your screaming. The next thing you knew he was ripping open the door and running inside a hospital with you in his arms, nearly tripping into a stretcher where a team was waiting.
“She’s fucking dying,” he said as he set you down, the team of doctors and nurses rushing you into a side room.
“You said this heat came on suddenly?” he asked Dean, someone sticking a thermometer in your ear.
“106. She’s too hot,” called out the nurse, the doctor near Dean rushing over, the team suddenly pushing you out of the room and down the hall. You were shoved through a pair of double doors into a bathroom, a silver high walled tub in the corner. 
“I got her,” said Dean, lifting you up and plunging you into an icy cold bath. You screamed as it burned your fiery skin, his hands on your shoulders forcing you to stay inside. “Look at me. Look at me.”
You couldn’t get the words out, taking in his green emerald eyes for the first time. His scent was still all around you, pine trees and vanilla beans, a cozy campfire and aged whiskey, fresh tobacco and soft linen. Your brain went fuzzy, blood pumping in your ears, thrumming in time with your heart. Was it getting slower? Your eyes were getting heavier, that was for sure. 
But he smelled so pretty, so…homey. Rugged. Yours.
“We’re losing her!” someone shouted, just as one last image of his concerned face crossed your mind.
You felt strangely…blissed out when you woke. Satisfied, like you were after being on the receiving end of a knot but also relaxed and floaty, like when you finished a heat. It wasn’t exactly a problem your heat had passed but you remembered a whole lot of pain and a high fever which wasn’t normal. 
So what the fuck had happened?
You stretched in bed and sat up, a doctor in a white coat stepping into the room with a smile.
“Y/N! Glad to see you awake. It’s been a few hours. How are you feeling?” he asked, gently taking your wrist and checking your pulse. 
“Uh, pretty good actually. I take it my heat’s gone?” He hummed, raising your arm up, feeling under your armpit.
“Yes. There’s not many cases a year but some Omegas do unfortunately have a negative reaction.” The doctor put two fingers to your bonding gland on your neck, your eyes narrowing. Why would he be feeling that? 
“What are you doing?” you asked as he pulled them back, glancing at a monitor. 
“Just checking your bond is healing.” You stared at him, the doctor glancing down with a sigh. “You don’t remember, do you? What happened before you passed out in the tub?”
“I remember being dumped in ice cold water and a whole lot of people shouting but that’s it.” 
“You didn’t pass out immediately. We determined while you were on the way here that your heat was triggered by the fact you came into contact with your true mate. Ordinarily, you would have picked up on this yourselves but your Alpha is on medication that has strong side effects. Namely, he was only vaguely aware of who you were through scent but there was no desire to mate as would be the norm. For you, unfortunately there is no recognition on a level that you’re aware of. You understandably would not know you went into heat early because of your true mate.”
You reached a hand up to your bonding gland, wide eyed when you felt…something. You flew out of bed, the doctor trying to stop you but you were quickly in the small bathroom, staring in the mirror.
“What the fuck is that!” you shouted. On your neck was a fresh, pink, bite mark. Someone had fucking claimed you. You angrily spun around, the doctor holding up his hands. “What kind of hospital is this! I’m suing the fuck out of you and this whole place!”
You caught a whiff of something…delectable, an Alpha’s scent somewhere close by. It calmed you, ever so briefly, the doctor sighing. 
“The man that brought you in-”
“The ranger guy.”
“Yes he…well he…there’s no easy way to say this. He is your true mate. Ordinarily we would have used medication to mimic your true mate’s scent but seeing as he was there…when he was told he would be able to claim…” he said as you stalked out, eye twitching. “We were losing you and receiving a claim bite from your true mate was the fastest way to bring your fever down. In emergency situations, true mates are allowed to make medical choice for you if you’re unable-”
“He wasn’t my mate then,” you growled.
“Physically, no but on a metaphysical level, yes. Frankly, the health of my patient, you, is all I care about. We’d like to observe you a few more hours before discharging.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes.
“So my heat is magically gone and some random dude hanging out in the hall is now my Alpha?” 
“That’s the more blunt way of putting it. We’ll send home medication to suppress your urges to mate physically. Your Alpha will be unable to knot you until he has completed his Novi-Alpha prescription.” 
“And when will that be?” you asked, tilting your head. The doctor frowned. “When?”
“...You don’t know what Novi-Alpha is prescribed for, do you. That is a discussion for you and your Alpha.” You wanted to argue but he lifted his chin. “Please let me finish my examination and determine if your heat had any consequences.”
Three hours later they finally let you leave, a white baggie in hand that held a bottle of pills you were to take once a week for the foreseeable future. There were well over a hundred inside which made you more than queasy.
What the fuck was Novi-Alpha and why did a guy that looked more than healthy need to be on it?
You frowned when you stepped outside under the covered front entrance, the ranger standing from where he sat on a bench. 
“Hey,” he said quietly. “How are you feeling?” 
“I didn’t give you permission to claim me.” His scent shifted, an edge to it you didn’t like. He narrowed his eyes, a frown growing on his otherwise handsome face. “Oh, don’t you start on that we’re true mates shit. You didn’t ask for my consent.”
“Excuse me but you were the one begging for it,” he quipped back. He took a few steps away like he was heading for the sidewalk, suddenly turning on a dime and getting in your face. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw. “You don’t feel…this and I get that it’s my fault. I barely feel it myself. And I frankly don’t care about your consent. My mate was five minutes away from death.”
“Oh, I did not sign up for some toxic asshole,” you said, shaking your head. You took a step, Dean grabbing your wrist. He looked ready to snarl, lip curling up. 
“True mates are never, ever bad mates. Stop hating me for saving you.”
“I don’t even fucking know you. This whole situation is your damn fault in the first place.” He twitched his eye, yanking on your arm so you stepped forward. “Get off, ass-”
“I am your Alpha and I’m taking you home,” he said, tugging you along after him, your feet cold on the wet ground, socks already soaked through. 
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled. Dean whipped around and in a second, you were tossed over his shoulder. “Dean! Put me down!”
“You’ll wear yourself out if you don’t calm down.” You growled, punching his back twice. You raised your fist again but felt dizzy, your hands instead gripping him tightly. “Did you listen to the doctors at all? You need to take it easy.”
“Just take me to my cabin,” you grumbled. He didn’t speak again, only grunted once when he opened the passenger door of his truck to slide you inside. You were too tired to deal with this crap. You’d go back to the cabin, sleep for a solid twelve hours and figure out this mate crap tomorrow. 
The roads were unfamiliar as Dean drove in silence, winding and twisting as he drove away from town and off a small road. It was a gravel road unlike the one to your cabin but you perked up when you saw a cabin in a small clearing after only a few minutes. 
“Uh, that’s not my cabin,” you said. Dean put the truck in park, turning it off. “I was out on Mount-”
“This is my house…our house,” he mumbled the last part. You shook your head at him, Dean rolling his eyes. “You need rest, not to sit in a car for hours. I’ll get your shit from that rental and bring it here. We’ll figure out the rest of your crap from wherever you’re from later.”
“Excuse me? We’re mates, as much as that appalls me. We make decisions like where to live together. I have a job, a life-”
“We live here. End of discussion,” he growled. His scent was raw, twitchy. There was no room for arguing. You were ready to fight back but you forced yourself to calm down. He was your true mate and as much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. True mates were never bad to one another. He wouldn’t harm you but good god was this guy protective. 
You frowned when he held up a finger to you and got out. He threw up his hood, rain coming down harder. In a flash he was at your door, picking you up bridal style and rushing you over to a covered porch. He set you down to unlock the door, flipping a light switch before he stepped back. You walked past him, surprised to find the cabin quite spacious and modern.
He disappeared behind you, returning with your white paper bag, now wet. His boots were removed and you peeled off your soaked through socks, following him slowly as he went to the open kitchen area on the right. The bag was set down, Dean moving to his fridge and taking a few things out.
It was open concept, kitchen on the right, living room on the left, a dining table in the front by the windows. There was a hallway in the back and one off the kitchen, probably leading to bedrooms and a garage. A large fireplace was nestled in the corner of the living room and you saw Dean cross into your vision, going to it to toss in a few logs. 
Honestly, it was nicer than your rental had been.
Once he had a fire going, he turned back to where you stood on the front rug, water dripping off of you. His lips pressed into a thin line, looking you up and down not like an Alpha would his Omega. No, he was being very clear. 
You were the stray that’d followed him home he hadn’t wanted. 
“I don’t have to be here,” you said when he approached, staring up at his dark eyes. “This isn’t normal. We’re supposed to be all over each other and clearly we’re not. We-”
“There’s a stew going on the stove. It’ll be ready in an hour. Just leave it alone.” He put a hand on the small of your back, walking you down to the back hall, motioning you to the last door on the left. He flipped on a light, cascading you into a cozy bedroom with soft white bedding and a dark green flannel blanket on top. 
He cleared his throat and went to a closet, pulling out a few pieces including a t shirt, hoodie, sweatpants and pair of boxer briefs. 
“You should warm up in the shower. Bathroom is right there. The laundry room is on the other side of the house, near the kitchen and garage. It’s coming down harder so it’ll take me a few hours to get to the rental and back here. You should-”
“Take it easy. Yeah, I got that.” He nodded, pausing at the bedroom door with his back to you. 
“If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve it.” You quirked your eyebrow up.
“You’re my Alpha. We’re soulmates. I guess this is supposed to happen.” He was still, the air thick. “I…listen I know I was…I wish I’d been aware of what I’d been saying but…”
He smelled tense, his hand in a tight fist by his side. What the fuck was up with this guy?
“Whether we like it or not, we’re mates,” you said gently. “When you get off that medicine, it’ll feel different-”
“I can never get off it and I can never knot you. You’ll never feel a damn thing for me.” Then he was gone, tearing down the hall and out the front door before you could even move. 
An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine that he was right. 
Your feet moved on autopilot to the bathroom, stripping out of the wet clothes and standing in front of the nicely tiled shower. In seconds you were under hot water, cascading down your back, through your hair. Fingers reached up to your neck, rubbing over your bond.
There were no sparks or flurry in your veins. You were supposed to be able to feel Dean, feel your connection, feel his soul.
But there was nothing. All you felt was empty.
You couldn’t feel the other part of your soul and he blamed himself.
“Fuck that,” you said, quickly finishing and getting dressed in the clothes aside from the sweatpants that were too long.
You found his computer in one of the spare bedrooms, stealing it along with a notepad and pen. Out in the kitchen, you settled into a seat at the island and drew a line down the middle of the pad. One side for information about Dean, the other Novi-Alpha.
With a quick stretch, you cracked open the laptop and got to work.
Three Hours Later
It was dark by the time headlights flashed through the front windows. The computer said it was just after six thirty and you knew you were about thirty seconds away from an argument. Ah, what a wonderful way to spend your first night with your Alpha.
Out of view you heard the door leading from the garage to the house crack open, wet boots against the tile in the mudroom. 
“I’m back!” he called from around the corner. “We’ll unpack your stuff tomorrow. How was…”
Your eyes darted over to the hallway he exited from, his socked feet padding his footfalls on the woode floors that covered the rest of the house. He stared at where you had his laptop, a charger plugged into the side of the island, a stack of papers next to you, your notepad, pen, three different highlighters and a cup of coffee.
“Are…are you working?” He asked, face souring. “You should be resting. I thought you were here on vacation anyways.”
“I am and this isn’t work related.” He narrowed his eyes, not saying anything as he went to the sink on the other side of the island to wash up. 
“Did you eat yet?” You shook your head, typing some more. A heavy sigh left him. He went to a cabinet, pulling out two large bowls. “You really should have eaten something. You nearly died this morning. Your school project can wait.”
“I’m not in college,” you said, jotting down a few more notes before you saved what you’d been working on and signed out of your account. You closed the screen, watching water trail down from his wet hair and soaking his shirt collar. “Why are you wet?”
“Because there’s a thunderstorm outside. It rains here most days,” he said dryly, giving you a side glare as he walked the two bowls of stew over to the kitchen table. You cocked your head at him as you got up, Dean quickly retrieving utensils. “What?”
“You parked in the garage just now and my cabin was far enough away that you’d be dry. Where’d you stop on the way back?” He slammed the drawer shut, eye twitching. “Strike a nerve?”
“I asked you to do one thing. One thing. Rest. And y-you’re writing a research paper or some crap? Sit down and eat your damn dinner.” You would have told him off but truth be told, you were starving a bit. You took your bowl and moved it to the seat across from his, Dean angrily setting down a spoon. A few moments later, a large glass of water was in front of you and he had a bottle of beer on his placemat. Dean sat with a loud thud, shoveling a large spoonful of food into his mouth.
“Why are you wet?” you asked again, crossing your arms. 
“Why does it matter? Fucking eat.” You leaned back, Dean dropping his spoon in the bowl. “Really? This is how it’s gonna be? I’ve been nothing but nice-”
“If this is you nice then I’d hate to see you mean.” You raised your chin, picking up the spoon. “I’ve always heard alpha’s protective instincts are unmatched. You can barely feel whatever this bond is and you’re so worked up-”
“I almost watched you die today.” You closed your eyes and sighed. A small noise made you open your eyes, Dean sliding a small white box over to you. You frowned, lips parting when you saw the newest iPhone inside. “I got you a phone on the account your other one was in your pocket when you took your artic dip. I rushed to the store before they closed. That is why I’m wet. I’d never want you to feel like you’re trapped here, especially when you can’t feel our ‘whatever bond.’”
“Thank you,” you said quietly. You ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the rain on the roof, the clanking of spoons and the quiet thrum of a soft rock station in the living room.
He seemed…stressed. Maybe you should wait for the morning to bring up what you’d found.
But you didn’t get the chance when he picked up and glanced at your notepad. Green eyes scanned over the pages before he gathered up everything you’d been working on.
And tossed it straight into the fireplace.
“Hey!” you shouted, rushing over as he stopped you in your tracks. He leered down, eyes dark. “That was-”
“You will delete everything you saved on that computer. Now.”
“You can’t-” He gripped your arm tight, so hard he was shaking it.
“Do it or I will make your life hell.” He released you, spinning you around towards the computer. You didn’t believe he’d hurt you. True mates were incapable of it. But you didn’t want to tempt him anymore than you already had.
Ten minutes later, your backup was gone and after a through examination by Dean, he took the computer and tossed it into the fireplace as well.
“I know you have questions,” he said quietly, back to you as the flames danced around the melting device. “I never should have gone hiking this morning. You caught my scent in the wind and-”
“Why would you go hiking in the pouring rain? It was raining this morning too. I had my coffee under the covered porch but it was coming down like bullets. No one would be out there willingly.” He turned and faced you, eyes roaming over your body, stuck on how his boxer briefs molded to your legs.
“In another life, we could have been happy. I would have given you everything you asked for. But not this one. I will keep you safe but that is all we are. We don’t get our happy ever after until we’re both dead.”
You swallowed, stepping into the living room, stopping a few feet away. “You hurt my arm just now.”
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again as long as you don’t do stupid things.”
You were getting angry again, Dean holding up his hands. “Stupid shit like try to know my new Alpha who just left me all alone? Sorry for trying to look up your damn social media. Asshole.”
Dean dropped his hands and went back to the fireplace, poking the computer with a poker, shaking his head.
“The more in the dark you are-”
“I’m a corporate forensic analyst, Dean,” you said, Dean’s shoulders stiffening. “Those notes on the computer? In that pad? Those articles? You can burn them all but it’s in my head. I don’t need the internet anymore to figure out what’s going on.”
“And what does your analysis tell you?” he grit out.
“Novi-Alpha is a cancer medication specifically for Alphas. But you don’t have it and never have. So why would an otherwise healthy Alpha take it? Well, it apparently has other uses that the public doesn’t know about…if you’re willing to live with the side effects. Side effects like knotting becoming a deadly activity to the person on the receiving end. The inability to feel your mate. Scent changes. And my personal favorite, if taken without the binding agent that’s given for cancer treatment, it changes your DNA coding without changing your DNA. Apparently law enforcement doesn’t want that news to get out there because it’s a bitch to catch people if they find out they can change their DNA on tests.”
You grabbed his arm and made him face you, a loud crack of thunder echoing in the room. Dean breathed calmly, eyes finding yours.
“Why are you taking medicine to change your DNA?”
“Because I did something bad, Y/N.” He got closer, pressing his chest to yours, forcing you to tilt your head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Fingers brushed over your cheek, thumb swiping over the curve of it slowly. “Because your true mate is a monster. And once you know the truth, you’ll want to run away…and I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”
The air was thick with his scent, dark yet pleasant. Painful even. You leaned into his touch, Dean’s green eyes widening ever so slightly.
“Novi-Alpha prevents Omegas from feeling their true mate. But I know you feel me.” You closed your eyes, breathing him in. “You have to tell me the truth eventually.”
“No I don’t,” he whispered. 
“You’ll tell me,” you said, opening your eyes, Dean’s hand sliding down to your mark. “Because I’m in danger if you don’t.”
He shook his head, pulling away from you. “Don’t pull that crap, Y/N. You’re safer not knowing.”
“Right. That’s why you burned everything just now.” He looked up, like someone else would magically tell him what to do. “You need to protect me. It’s your job. So you have to tell me the truth, Alpha. You have to.”
He laughed quietly, running a hand through his damp hair. “Using my title to get what you want. Manipulative. Maybe you were meant for me.”
“Dean-”
“The Ranger.” You raised your eyebrows at him, Dean wandering to the dark window.
“Uh, what? This is because you’re a forest ranger?” He laughed again, crossing his arms.
“No. I do that because…it’s a pretty isolated job. Small town work.” He looked to his right, a sad smile on his face. “The Ranger. That was my name when I had a different job.”
“That’s not a name…” you said, Dean shrugging. “What’d you do when you were The Ranger?”
He smirked, meeting your curious gaze. “Have you ever killed anyone?” 
He slowly stalked back to you, tilting his head. He leaned in close, glancing at your lips. “N-No, can’t say I have.”
“Ever kill an animal?”
“I hit a squirrel with my car once. I cried all night for that.” Dean rested his forehead against yours, his scent rolling off of him in powerful waves. “D-Do you hunt animals?”
“No.” He brushed his lips to the shell of your ear, his pulse strangely calm. “Now people, that’s a different story.”
_______
A/N: Part 2 coming 3/30!
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winchester-girl67 · 5 months
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Wild Hearts (Part 1)
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Summary: Y/N tags along to a bonfire on the beach with her brother and his friends. She tries to fit in with them, but winds up finding more of a connection to the guy crashing the party. 
Masterlist
Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 
Square: Age gap @spnfluffbingo Meet cute @spnaubingo “Are you stupid or stupid?” 
Word Count: 3,374 
Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), underage drinking, mostly implied physical abuse, past injury (bruising/scars), language, slow burn, a little angst, arguing, maybe a little gaslighting, mutual pining, a kiss to the forehead, fluff 
A/N: Also written for @spnfluffbingo and @spnaubingo. 
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A/N #2: Masterlist summary and warnings have been updated. Please review before reading. 
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Your brother grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you back towards the party going on down the beach. "Stop being such a bitc-" 
"Ow! Quit it, jerk." You tried to shake your arm from his grasp but his fingers dug in, "You're hurting me." 
"Don't be such a baby," he growled, stopping far enough away from the bonfire so the crowd of his friends wouldn't overhear. There was a chill in the air and his friends were gathered closer around the flames now. "I told you, if you wanted to tag along you can't just wander off by yourself. Mom would have my ass if something happened to you on my watch." 
"Screw you, I'm not a baby. Let. Go." 
He finally did. 
"They're all ignoring me. I wanna go home." You said, pointing to the mean girls a ways away. 
"Well, I'm not taking you. I'm not ready to leave yet." He said, crossing his arms over his chest with a glare. 
You knew it was a mistake taking a ride from him in the first place, but you didn't have your own car. And you failed your driver's test over the last weekend. Fun way to spend your sixteenth birthday, with your brother mocking you the whole way home. 
"Then I'll walk or call mom to come get me." 
"No, you won't. Unless you want her to know that I was right and you are a baby." He stared you down, "Just have a drink and relax for a bit, maybe it'll loosen you up and people will want to talk to you." He glanced back at the busty blonde he'd been eyeing all night; the girl you knew he came here for. He'd only been following her around like a lost puppy all summer. She waved and gave him a little wink. "Stop being so selfish, Y/N, and maybe we'll get along for once." 
"I'm selfish?!" You scoffed, you'd only sat around watching the sunset and shuffling your feet in the sand for the past couple hours while he chatted up said blonde. His friends weren't the only ones excluding you. Not that you wanted to be in on that conversation, but you thought the night was going to go a little different. You thought it would be like the old days when things between you weren't so tense all the time. "Just leave me alone and go drool already."
"And you wonder why I never wanna hang out with you anymore." He snapped and stalked away, throwing his arm over the blonde's shoulders when he reached her. Her eyes gleamed in the firelight and you heard her giggle echo along the shoreline when he tickled her sides. 
Everyone liked your brother and you tried to be just like him when you were younger. You were only a year apart but it made a world of difference. You didn't even mind wearing his hand-me-downs until you got to high school and got made fun of for it. But you made your peace with it now, you'd always be more of a tomboy and you couldn't be anyone but yourself. Graphic tees, jeans and sneakers were the epitome of comfort and that's what you wore now while the mean girls had skimpy dresses and tank tops that did nothing against the cold breeze that wafted in from over the open water. 
But a drink might help. 
The beer cooler was up the beach from the horny seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, but you didn't have to pass them to fish one out from melted ice. You cracked it open and took a sip, souring your face instantly and spitting it out onto the sand. 
You heard someone chuckle and whipped around. A tall guy with shadows cast on his face stood a few feet away, watching you. You glanced down to the bottle in your hand, then back at him. He followed your eyes, his expression turning stoic before you could read him. 
"What?" You asked. 
"It's kind of an acquired taste." He nodded towards the bottle in your hand and you took another sip, choking it down to prove him wrong. He wasn't wrong. Beer was gross. "Are you okay?" 
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" 
He cocked his head towards your brother who was now chasing the blonde down towards the shoreline. You didn't think they'd go in, since it was nearly winter and the water was freezing this time of year. But he teased her and grabbed her like he was going to drag her out into the icy depths. 
"Oh. Yeah, he's just an asshole is all and I needed a drink." You explained, raising the beer to your lips for a third sip. 
You wanted him to leave already so you could dump the rest out in the bushes. 
"Same," he nodded and chugged the rest of his own beer. "He shouldn't treat you like that, though." 
You didn't think he overheard but he'd certainly seen the two of you, "He's my brother, that's what brothers do." 
You toyed with the label on your beer, peeling it back from the glass. 
"No, it's not." 
He stepped forward, setting his empty bottle in the bin next to the cooler. The light of the bonfire catching his features enough for you to finally see him. The first thing you noticed was that he was not a friend of your brother's. He was older, too, though you couldn't tell by how much. 
He was a party crasher. Probably here for the free beer. 
"Whatever. It's not like he hits me, he just gets mad and pushes me around a little." You said, stepping back a foot when the guy took another step towards you. 
"He shouldn't. That's called abuse." 
"Not when I do the same to him. Then it's called sibling rivalry." 
"I know abuse when I see it." His voice lowered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His words held a story he wasn't telling and you didn't ask. 
You eyed him again. Between the full moon and the light of the fire you noted a few details that jumped out at you. He wasn't bad looking, actually kind of cute. His eyes held a world's worth of emotion as if he vaulted it up inside himself and swallowed the key. Days old bruising covered the left side of his face, particularly around his jaw, cheekbone, and eye. And he intermittently sucked on the split in his bottom lip that had reopened, probably from when he first smiled at you. 
"Well, your story isn't mine." You said, having had enough of this stranger who thinks he knows your life at a glance. He sighed and looked away, steeling his jaw and rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes cast down to his stomach when his shirt lifted and your heart sank at the sight. A thick scar stretched up his torso from his hip and disappeared beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, peeking back out around his collarbone where the neck hole had been worn loose. Someone had hurt him, badly; you thought that must've been why he was so conscious towards abuse. "Sorry, I didn't know-" 
"Do you wanna go for a walk?" He asked, meeting your eyes and taking another step forward. 
You didn't back away this time, though he was still a good five feet away at least. 
"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, taking off with some judgy guy I just met and wandering down a dark secluded beach alone with him. Real smart. Maybe wait until I've had a couple drinks first, then try again." You rolled your eyes making him laugh silently. 
"I don't hurt women. Ever." He said as if it was a law of his own. 
"What about men?" 
"Depends," he shrugged. 
"On?"
"I've never started a fight in my life." He said, answering a question you didn't ask rather than the one you did. 
"Somehow I don't believe you." You squinted up at him, trying to read him. 
"Then why haven't you walked away yet?" He looked at the party continuing around the bonfire and then back at you. "You don't wanna be here any more than I do, so let me show you something."
"I swear if that something is your-" 
He raised his hands from his pockets and smiled, "I promise it's not. You'll like this." 
"You get five minutes and I'm counting. Also, I'm a black belt so don't even think about trying anything." You lied, although he didn't strike you as the violent type despite the evidence on his face and stomach. 
You scanned the beach for your brother, spotting him still engrossed with the blonde, so you knew he wouldn't notice any time soon if you'd left without causing a scene. You dumped your nearly full beer out onto the sand and set it in the bin with the other empty bottles. Ignoring the knowing smirk from the party crasher as you did so. 
"Beer is kind of gross." 
"Yeah, it is." He chuckled, "but it's cheap and gets the job done." 
"I don't see the appeal," you said, following in stride with him down the beach. The sand beneath your sneakers making it hard to keep up with his long legs. "Can you walk slower?" 
"Sorry," he slowed his pace and you easily caught up. "Drink a bit more than a couple of sips next time and you will." 
"I'd rather waste the calories on chocolate, thank you." 
He laughed silently again and sucked the split in his lip, "What's your name?" 
"Uh, Y/N, you?" 
"Dean." He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "So, how come I haven't seen you around here before, Y/N?" 
"We just moved here," you said, not wanting to explain how you didn't exactly get out much and explore the town over the summer. 
"Then you haven't been to the pier?" He asked, cocking his head towards the end of the beach where you were headed. 
It wasn't so much a pier as it was a small row of shops and a parking lot. Some storefronts were still lit up against the darkened sky and a lighthouse sat on the rocks near the shore. The light at the top swung around and around over the jagged rocks reaching into the water. 
"Seriously? You wanted to show me a lighthouse? That's not exactly special. Lighthouses are a dime a dozen around here, if you haven't noticed." You said a little disappointed and glancing back at the party. 
The bonfire merely a speck amongst the stars along the beach now. If you accounted for the walk back it would definitely stretch over the five minutes you'd promised him and you stopped walking. 
Dean noticed when you fell behind and turned to you. He laughed a little and smiled, "That's not where we're going." 
He reached out to you and grabbed your hand, tugging you gently until you laughed and skipped a step. He was troubled, that was for sure, but you didn't have a reason not to trust him. Not that trust should be given easily without question; but still, you welcomed the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours as he led you across the parking lot and up to one of the shops. 
"Ice cream," you stared up at the sign before Dean pulled you into the store. 
"Mhm," he licked his lips, guiding you up to the display of tubs sitting in the freezer and separating you from the older blonde woman behind the counter. 
She nodded to Dean like she knew him and he smiled back, "Hey, Donna." She didn't react at all to the bruises on his face and your mind started to wander. 
"I was starting to think I wasn't gonna see ya before closing," she said, retying her pink apron as if she was getting ready to close up for the night. 
"You know me better than that," he feigned hurt and wrapped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. 
You scanned over the flavours, some so bright you wondered if it was possible to taste a colour. "Isn't it kinda cold for ice cream?"
"Never," Dean shook his head like you'd said something foolish. "These shops are seasonal and it's the last night they're open until they close for the winter. You'll have to wait at least four months before you get this again. And trust me, once you try it, winter will feel like an eternity for your tastebuds." 
You smiled, you couldn't argue with that logic, "What flavour should I get?" You asked, assuming he'd probably have tried them all by the looks of it. 
"My favourite is the mocha with all the little chocolate pieces. It's basic, I know, but classic." He pointed to a tub filled with dark brown speckled ice cream. 
"Two mochas, please." You said. 
"Sure thing," Donna said and scooped you out a couple of cups. 
Dean gave your shoulder a squeeze before giving you some space to enjoy your ice cream.  
He kept eyeing you as you took your first bite, then your second, "And?"
"Okay, you're right. It's fudging amazing! Can we get more?" You asked, glancing back at the shop from where you sat outside on a bench under a streetlamp. 
"You still have a whole cup.” He barked out a laugh and you shovelled a few spoonfuls into your mouth. 
A chilled throb wracked through your brain and you paused mid-bite to squeeze your eyes shut and fan at your frozen mouth. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth and just as the feeling started to ebb away you felt hot, sticky lips lay flush against your forehead. Dean’s hand held the back of your head and you blinked open your eyes, feeling warm and fuzzy. 
"Better? My mom used to do that for me when I was a kid. Always seemed to help." He said and tilted his head to the side. 
You weren't sure if it was what he did or the shock of the unexpectedness of it, but it dulled the pain. He hadn't backed up an inch and you could see the gold flecks in his green eyes under the streetlamp. Framed by the yellow edges and purple patches of the bruising next to his left eye. His hair was sandy brown and short but still fell over his forehead and brushed the tips of his ears. And freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose on pale skin. He was pretty cute and different from most of the boys you usually met. 
You nodded and blushed, sneaking another spoonful of mocha ice cream between your lips. He laughed silently and leaned back, picking back up his own cup of ice cream from the bench next to him and digging in. 
"You're strange and kinda wonderful." You said around a bite full, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth when the brain-freeze threatened to come back. 
"That's oddly the nicest thing someone's said to me in a very long time." He took a bite and licked his spoon clean. 
"That makes me sad." 
"Makes me happy," he mumbled and smiled. 
"Like I said, strange." 
"Because you're so cool and composed, right?" He's teased, pointing with his spoon. 
"I'm a delight and you know it. That's why you just had to get me away from all those other guys down on the beach. Before they had the chance to notice too, of course." You joked, brushing your hair back when the breeze carried it away. 
"You caught me, I'm a sucker for a girl who tries to bite my head off with one wrong look." 
"You make me sound like a praying mantis." 
"In that case, I guess I'm safe as long as we don't have sex." You both frowned. "Sorry, that was awkward, I swear it sounded funnier in my head. Because you know they only eat their mate after-uh-mating..." He stuck his spoon in his ice cream and stirred until it was smooth like soup, "What?"
"You're blushing," you said, "it's cute." You liked being able to do that to him. "But you should know I'm sixteen." 
"Wait. What?" He looked like you'd just punched him in the gut. "But you were drinking." 
"When did you have your first beer?" 
He thought to himself for a moment, clearly he had been younger than you; then he abandoned his ice cream on the bench beside him. “What about your friends?” 
"Some are eighteen. But most are seventeen, same as my brother, they're his friends." You explained. "Don't ask me how they got the beer." You attempted to lighten the mood but he just stared down at his hands, rubbing at the cuts in his knuckles. "How old are you?" 
“Too old for you,” he shook his head and picked at one of the scabs. “Twenty-one in January.” 
So essentially there was a five year age gap between you. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if only you were older; but for now it didn’t mean you couldn’t be friends. Your gut twisted at the thought of never seeing him again and you could use a friend; and it looked like he could, too. 
Your cell rang and you fished it from your back pocket. Your brother's name sprawled over the screen. 
You sighed and rolled your eyes, then answered, "What do you want?"
"Are you stupid or stupid? Where the fuck did you go?!" He shouted and you were sure Dean could hear, so you turned down the volume on your phone. 
"For a walk." 
"We're leaving." 
That meant the blonde was tagging along, either hitching a ride home with you or your brother was just going to drop you off at home before taking her to park somewhere and... -You didn't want to think about it. Your brother, like that. Gross. 
"Maybe I don't wanna leave yet. I made a friend." Dean mirrored your smile. 
"Find your own way home then..." he grumbled a few choice words and hung up. Asshole.
"Any chance you have a car?" You asked, silencing your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. "I need a ride." 
"Uh- no. But I know where we can get one." Dean said as he checked the time on his wrist. You fingered your ice cream and booped him on the nose. "What was that for?" He laughed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 
You shrugged, "Just trying to lighten the mood. You look so sad," you raised his chin with your fingers, "Chin up, Dean." 
"Did you mean that?" He asked. 
You lowered your hand to rest on the bench between you, "Mean what?"
"That we're friends," he asked, chewing on the split in his lip. At this rate you didn't think it would ever heal over. "I mean, that we can be friends." 
"Uh-huh, unless you don't wanna be my friend." You nodded and searched his eyes, some kind of hurt flashing through them. 
"I think that's all we can be. At least, until you have a couple more birthdays." 
Your typical luck, the one guy you could see yourself interested in and he's too old. It was only nearly five years, sure, but you were only sixteen and he'd probably had a lot more experience that you couldn't compare to. But he was cute. 
Window shopping couldn't hurt right, until you had the means to buy. 
"I can wait," you teased and laughed. "But you look like you could use a friend. And I got your back, since I kind of owe you one for introducing me to this ice cream." 
"You don't owe me anything, Y/N." 
You shivered when the ice cream was gone and Dean stripped out of his hoodie, draping it over your shoulders as you walked along the side of the road towards his house. He apparently didn't live far away and if his father was home, he could 'borrow' his car to give you a ride. He actually used air quotes when he said borrow though, so you were a little skeptical. 
_________________________
Part 2
_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28
SPN: @hobby27
Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @globetrotter28
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wild-lavender-rose · 5 months
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Confessions
Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Summary: After your boyfriend breaks up with you, your friends Sam and Dean help to put the pieces back together in a very unexpected way. 
Warnings: Reference to break up, collapse, mild language 
Note: I started this a couple years ago shortly after a break up and finally decided to finish it. It’s not my usual quality of work some of the lines feel out of character and it’s super angsty and cheesy idk but I really wanted to get it finished and out of my drafts, so enjoy? 
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     Sam and Dean looked up from their vampire research when you entered the bunker, their brows furrowing with concern as they took in your glassy eyes and messed up hair. 
     “Hey,” Dean called. 
     “Hey.” You gave a nod, dropping the heavy backpack you had been carrying with a thud. 
     “You okay?” Sam was already pushing back his chair. 
     “I...” You shrugged off your jacket, gaze averting to the floor. “He...He broke up with me.” 
     “What?” The chairs squeaked as the brothers stood.  
     “He thought, with us bein’ hunters and all...Didn’t want to be each other’s weakness,” you took a step forward only to have your legs give out, causing you to sink down to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.” 
     “Honey, woah,” Dean came around the table to kneel beside you, Sam close behind. “Easy, it’s okay.” 
     “I can never get them to stay.” You whispered, your head in your hands as Dean sat behind you and pulled you into a hug. “What's wrong with me?” 
     “It’s not you, he’s just an ass.” Sam knelt in front of you, hand resting on your leg. “Hunters suck at commitment.” 
     “I don't, you don’t.” You leaned back into Dean’s hug, tucking yourself into him as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry,” 
     “It’s not your fault, baby.” Dean ran his hand through your hair and held you close. 
     “No, I, I shouldn’t have even tried. He said, that ass,” you shoved your sleeve across your eyes, trying desperately to regain composure. “He said that he was tired of sharing me with you and Sam. That I loved you more than him. But, I tried to tell him we were just friends, but he didn’t believe me.” You shook your head against a fresh wave of tears. “I’m such an idiot.” 
     “Why?” Sam asked, his voice soft. 
     “Because,” you looked at the floor, hot shame flooding over you. “Because it’s true.” You whispered. “I love you and I love Sam.” 
     Dean’s hand froze in your hair, his body stiffening. You could feel him looking over your head at Sam, no doubt having a whole conversation in that nonverbal brother code of theirs. You hated yourself for saying anything. Now it was all over. Your friendship would be awkward and stilted now. No stolen hugs and nights of falling asleep on their shoulders during long car rides under the guise of simple friendship. They would know your intentions now. Know that you loved them. 
    “Sorry,” you whimpered, starting to untangle yourself from the two of them. 
     The last thing you expected was for Dean’s arms to tighten around you. “Where you going, sweetheart?” 
     “To bed.” You pushed weakly at his arms, not truly wanting to escape his warmth. “Tomorrow I gotta find a spell that makes you forget what I just said,” 
     “You hear her, Sammy? Our girl wants to go to bed.” 
     “Come here,” in one smooth motion Sam pulled you into his arms and picked you up off the floor. “Whose bed do you want to be in?” 
     “Mine.” Dean grinned. “It’s got memory foam.” 
     “I don't, wait, but you,” you covered your mouth, hardly daring to breathe. “You...both of you?” 
     “From the day we met you.” Sam kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you to bed. Coming, Dean?”
     “Right behind you.” Dean got to his feet and followed you and Sam with a mischievous grin. 
And that was how the three of you started the beginning of forever. 
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crazyrainbowgirl221 · 8 months
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The gay shot
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itshelia · 3 months
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Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???
Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)
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