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pinchofhoney · 7 months

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Omg Dean Winchester x Reader (platonic) where Dean and Sam are on a hunt and maybe reader was kidnapped??? And when they save her, she just immediately gets attached to Dean? Like she can't leave his side and at first he's really annoyed but eventually gets used to it?

(Sorry for all of my platonic requests I just don't see enough of them 😅)

frozen fear

dean winchester x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

warning: platonic relationship, mild swearing, one description may be disturbing to some readers, comfort

summary: Life has a way of humbling even the bravest, and it's not always a gentle lesson.

a/n: hello!! thank you so much for your request! i had a lot of fun working on it; while planning the plot i felt the same feeling i had when writing my little fiction stories before my disappearance and honestly i missed it a lot!! but, in the middle of writing, i realized that it escaped my attention that you wanted it to be just sam with dean on the hunt, so unfortunately the text i wrote will be a little different from your request:(( i'm so sorry, i hope you enjoy the story anyway!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @one-sweet-gubler @lonelywitchv2

gif is not mine, credit to @/justjensenanddean

You shifted onto your back, letting your tired eyes wander across the shadowy ceiling. The wall clock's relentless ticking concealed the time, but you were certain that sleep should have already claimed you by now. Resting in one of the motel's less-than-cozy beds, nestled near Telluride, Colorado, the room's silence was intermittently shattered by Dean's unrelenting snoring, which was pushing you to the brink of madness.

With a soft sigh, you raised yourself into a seated position, your hands cradling your tired face, a silent battle raging within you to resist the urge to suffocate Dean with a pillow. Your gaze darted to the sleeping Sam, then settled on Dean's back as he lay on his side.

You arrived in town alongside the Winchester brothers, ready to tackle a puzzling string of mountain disappearances. The circumstances surrounding the case remained a mystery to you, with the root cause still shrouded in uncertainty. Although you had your suspicions, you knew there was plenty of work ahead, and the prospect of a sleepless night didn't exactly lift your spirits.

You arched your head back, returning your gaze to the ceiling as another sigh escaped your lips. At last, you shifted your legs over the edge of the bed, rising to your feet. Your hand reached for one of the brothers' jackets, and with a simple motion, you exited the room. You hoped that a quick walk in the cold, fresh night air could make you sleepy. Maybe the wind will whip me into such a state that I'll lose my hearing and finally drift off to sleep, you thought slightly amused, looking for positives in this pathetic situation.

The sun's faint morning rays began to seep through the curtains of the dimly lit motel room. Sam stirred in his bed, his sleep-laden eyes blinking open as he noticed the absence of a familiar presence beside him. He frowned and turned his head, only to find an empty bed where you had been resting just hours before.

Sam sat up abruptly, his heart racing as he scanned the room. Dean, who had been sprawled out in another bed, all this time snoring softly, was now roused by Sam's sudden movement. He blinked blearily, struggling to comprehend the situation.

“Dean!” Sam hissed urgently, his voice tinged with alarm. “Wake up! Y/N's gone!”

Dean sat up sluggishly, not entirely comprehending the commotion. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for alarm. Nobody had forcefully confined you to the room, so it seemed obvious to him that you had simply risen early for a morning stroll.

“Sam, relax,” Dean muttered, not quite grasping the gravity of the situation yet. “Y/N probably stepped out for breakfast or something. She'll be back.”

But as Sam's gaze darted around the room, he noticed something that heightened his unease. “Dean,” he said, his voice tinged with increasing concern, pointing at the empty hook where Dean's jacket should have been hanging.

Dean finally started to stir fully awake, glancing at the vacant hook, and then back at Sam. “Okay, so maybe Y/N took my jacket too. It's not a big deal.”

As Dean spoke, Sam's eyes fell upon something on the nightstand. It was your phone, usually never left behind. He grabbed it and held it up for Dean to see. “Dean, Y/N's phone is here,” Sam said with a sense of growing concern. “She wouldn't have gone anywhere without it.”

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as the realization set in. The absence of both you and your phone suddenly felt more ominous. “Alright, let's not jump to conclusions,” he said, though the unease in his voice was palpable. “We'll wait a little longer, but if she doesn't come back soon, we need to check things out and see if there's anything else strange going on.”

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock served as a relentless reminder of time slipping away

Dean fought to keep his emotions in check, methodically going about his morning routine, from toothbrush to getting dressed. His emotions were simmering beneath the surface, but he was determined not to let them get the best of him.

Meanwhile, Sam perched at the table, your mobile phone resting prominently before him. His gaze remained fixed on the device, a glimmer of hope that you might soon breeze through the room door, bearing coffee and a bagel, filling the space with your familiar presence.

“It's a quarter past eight already,” Sam remarked, his eyes shifting to his brother. He leaned on the table, his fingers anxiously toying with the first signs of stubble on his chin. “We have no idea when she left,” he added with a touch of frustration.

Dean pondered the situation briefly, meeting Sam's gaze before letting out an exasperated huff. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his annoyance clear in his expression and tone.

The mounting tension in the room finally propelled the brothers into action. Dean grabbed his flannel shirt, throwing it on, and Sam slipped your phone into his pocket before they headed toward the motel room door.

“We’ve got to figure out what’s going on,” Sam declared, his voice determined.

Dean nodded in agreement, his jaw set. “I swear I'm gonna fucking kill her if she's just making fun of us.”

As they prepared to leave, Sam hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He glanced back at the room, a glimmer of hope still flickering in his eyes. “Let's leave the door unlocked,” he said quietly, as much to reassure himself as Dean. “Just in case Y/N comes back.”

With that, they stepped out into the brisk morning, making quick strides in the direction of the parked Impala.

You slowly regained consciousness, a disorienting haze clouding your senses. Your body ached with a piercing pain, and a strange, unpleasant feeling gnawed at you. Panic coursed through your veins as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

It was pitch black, and you couldn't see a thing. The air was thick with a noxious stench that seemed to cling to your very skin. Your head throbbed with a dull ache, and you groaned, attempting to move, only to realize that your limbs were bound, and you couldn't feel solid ground beneath you.

Panic turned to terror as your hands met resistance above your head. You strained your neck, struggling to see what lay beyond you. And then, as your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the horrifying truth revealed itself.

You were hanging from the ceiling, head down, alongside two other lifeless bodies. Their forms dangled grotesquely, and it was clear they had been here for some time, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

The realization hit you like a sledgehammer. You were trapped in a Wendigo's cave, your own fate hanging precariously above you. Your heart pounded, and terror coursed through your veins as you fought to remain as still and silent as possible, praying that the creature responsible for this nightmare wouldn't return anytime soon.

As you pored over the Winchester brothers' father's journal, your suspicions honed in on the Wendigo as the likely culprit behind the recent disappearances. Still, you couldn't help but question the accuracy of your deduction. While it was true that the brothers had successfully hunted down one of these creatures before, encountering a Wendigo in Colorado felt like a rare occurrence, far from their usual hunting grounds.

There was no room for doubt now, but finding yourself on the potential victim list hardly allowed you to relish your accurate suspicions.

Your heart raced in your chest, its thunderous beats resonating in your ears like a drumroll of dread. The blood surged to your face, turning it into a stifling mask of heat and anxiety. What made it all the more unbearable was the uncertainty, not knowing how long you'd been hanging there or when the fiendish creature might return to its lair.

Straining your ears, you listened intently for any hint of the creature's reappearance, but the stifling silence held sway.

Then, a faint yet unmistakable sound reached your ears—a distant shuffle, accompanied by muffled voices. Hope surged within you as you recognized the voices. It was Sam and Dean.

Tears welled up in your eyes as their voices drew nearer, and you struggled to rein in the overwhelming rush of relief and joy. Their flashlights cast wavering beams that danced eerily on the cave walls as they advanced cautiously.

“Y/N?” Sam's voice reverberated through the cave, laced with concern.

You managed a weak response, your voice trembling with emotion. “Here!”

Their flashlights swept over you, illuminating your precarious predicament. A mixture of shock and unwavering determination twisted their faces as they took in the horrifying scene before them.

A wave of relief washed over you like a soothing tide as Sam and Dean hurried to your side. Sam swiftly sized up the situation, his nible fingers skillfully working to free you from your bindings. With each passing moment, the suffocating grip of fear and captivity began to loosen its hold.

Dean, standing guard with unwavering vigilance, maintained a watchful eye on the cave's entrance, ensuring that the Wendigo wouldn't return to catch you in a vulnerable moment. His weapon remained poised and ready

As Sam's efforts finally set you free, you were lowered gently to the cave floor. Weak and disoriented, you clung to him, finding solace in the reassuring presence of your friends amidst the foreboding darkness that had held you captive.

With you safely on the cave floor, Sam turned his attention to your well-being, his concern etched on his face. “Y/N, are you okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly, your voice quivering from a mixture of exhaustion and unease. “I think so.”

In response, Dean allowed himself a small sigh of relief, his furrowed brow smoothing out somewhat. He turned his attention back to you, his worry palpable. “Can you fill us in, Y/N? We all went to bed in the motel room, and now you're hanging in this cave. What the heck happened?”

Balancing yourself with Sam's support, you drew in a steadying breath to calm your frazzled nerves. “I don't know, Dean,” you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of fear and frustration. “Your snoring was so deafening that I was on the brink of committing a crime. I had to escape the room for some respite, and then... Then I woke up here, like this, with no idea how I ended up in this nightmare.”

The haunting memory of that heart-stopping moment lingered in the air, causing your eyes to brim with tears once more. It was at this very moment that the full weight of the situation began to sink in—what might have befallen you, the chilling possibility of ending up like the lifeless body you had been hanging beside just moments ago.

As you gazed upon the concerned expressions of the men, the urge to reassure them that you were alright welled up within you. You only needed a little time to collect yourself. However, something beyond their shoulders seized your attention with a grip far stronger.

Your eyes widened in sheer terror, and your heart raced, momentarily clouding your thoughts with a hazy fog of panic. It took you a precious moment to summon the words, but finally, your voice found a way past your constricted vocal cords. “D-Dean!” you exclaimed with a raised voice, your trembling finger pointing emphatically toward the gaping maw of the cave entrance.

Your panicked cry pierced the cave's silence, and the Winchester brothers pivoted toward the cave entrance, their expressions shifting from concern to sheer determination.

Before your eyes, the Wendigo emerged from the shadows, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering light of Sam and Dean's flashlights. The monster snarled, a chilling, otherworldly sound that sent shivers down your spine.

Sam and Dean wasted no time. With a practiced synchronicity born from years of hunting, they unleashed a torrent of fire upon the creature. Flames danced and crackled in the cave's depths, casting unnatural, shifting shadows.

The Wendigo roared in agony as the flames consumed it, its monstrous form writhing in torment. The stench of burning flesh and the creature's wails filled the cave, creating a nightmarish tableau of desperation.

You wanted to do something, to help the Winchesters in some way, but fear paralyzed you. You'd encountered countless demons, monsters, and shapeshifters in the past, but facing this particular breed of creature was an entirely unprecedented experience for you.

As the Wendigo was consumed by the flames, its otherworldly shrieks reached a deafening crescendo before being abruptly silenced. The once-terrifying monster was now nothing more than a pile of smoldering ashes, its threat extinguished by the relentless fire.

Sam and Dean turned to you, their expressions now radiant with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Sam extended a hand toward you, his eyes filled with understanding. “Come on, Y/N, let's get out of here.”

You nodded, your throat still tight with the remnants of fear, and took Sam's hand as he helped you to your feet. Dean followed, his grip firm on your shoulder, offering silent support.

The three of you made your way out of the cave, stepping back into the cool night air of the Colorado woods. The moon cast a pale, comforting glow upon the landscape, a stark contrast to the horrors you had just faced.

As you reached the Impala parked nearby the forest, Dean spoke, his voice tinged with weariness. “We'll head back to the motel, Y/N. You need some rest.”

Sam nodded in agreement as he opened the car door for you. “And a hot shower wouldn't hurt either.”

You climbed into the car, the leather seats offering a welcome comfort. Dean took the driver's seat, and Sam settled in beside you.

The engine roared to life, and as the Impala rumbled down the winding forest road, Sam turned to you with a small, reassuring smile. “You did great back there, Y/N. We've got your back.”

The only source of comfort during this terrible ordeal was Dean's jacket, now worn and stained. It still clung to your shoulders, providing a bit of solace. You folded your arms across your chest, embracing the jacket's familiar warmth as if it was a security blanket. Taking a deep breath, you tried to reassure yourself that the nightmare was over and you were now safe.

Recent events had shattered your belief in your own fearlessness, exposing the simple truth that you had a long way to go before you could match Sam and Dean's hunting prowess. Yet, uncertainty gnawed at you, making you question whether you were truly prepared to reach their level of expertise.

Weeks drifted by, and the memories of the Wendigo's cave continued to haunt your every waking moment. Anxiety had taken root deep within you, coiling around your thoughts like a relentless serpent. To cope, you found solace in staying as close to Dean Winchester as possible, as if his presence alone could shield you from the lingering horrors.

However, this newfound need for constant presence began to grate on Dean's nerves. He valued his personal space and independence, and your persistent closeness was beginning to wear on him.

One evening, as you shadowed his every move in the bunker, Dean couldn't help but voice his frustration. “Y/N,” he began, his tone laced with irritation, “I appreciate you being cautious, but you don't have to be glued to my side every second.”

Your eyes widened, and you stammered a response, “I-I'm just trying to be safe, Dean. You know, in case something happens again.”

Dean sighed, his irritation softening into understanding as he looked at you. He leaned in closer, his voice gentle but firm. “Y/N, I know you're scared, and it's okay to be cautious. But you have to remember, we're hunters. Our lives are filled with risks, and we've faced worse than that Wendigo together.”

He continued, his eyes locking onto yours, “You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you, but you also have to take care of yourself. Being a hunter means facing fear head-on, and sometimes that means standing on your own two feet.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. Dean was right; you couldn't let fear rule your life forever.

With Dean's words echoing in your mind, you began to make a conscious effort to rely on yourself more. There were moments when you found the courage to try out on your own, even if it was just for a short while, to confront the remnants of your fear. Gradually, you felt a glimmer of your old, independent self resurfacing.

But there were still times when the weight of anxiety bore down on you, and in those moments, you sought solace in Dean's presence. You found comfort in his unwavering support and understanding. He noticed your struggles and approached them with patience and acceptance.

Instead of pushing you away when you clung to him, Dean embraced your need for reassurance. He let you lean on him when the anxiety became overwhelming, understanding that healing was a gradual process. Whether it was a reassuring word, a comforting touch, or simply his silent presence, Dean was there for you.

You both found a balance. You were getting better at facing your fears, and Dean was getting better at being there when you needed support.

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supernaturalfreewill · 7 months

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"Hey," Sam said gently, stepping softly into the room. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Your brow was knit as you looked up at him. "I know there are things you two aren't telling me," you said.

Sam sighed, his mouth pulling down into a frown. He made his way over to sit beside you on the couch. "If there are things we aren't telling you, please know that there's a good reason behind it."

Your eyes flickered between his and he saw fear in them. "Sam, I'm horrified by what I've seen and... terrified by what I haven't. Whatever you think you're protecting me from, whatever you're not telling me, it can't be any worse than not knowing."

Sam's stomach sank like someone had tied an anchor to it and pushed it overboard. He gulped. "Hey," he said, "nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise. You're safe. It's all gonna be okay."

Prompt: "I'm horrified by what I've seen and terrified by what I haven't."

#sam winchester comfort #sam winchester drabbles #sam w imagines #supernatural imagines #spn drabbles #sam winchester x reader

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wildgirllz · 1 year

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only if you’re comfortable!! tw panic attacks & anxiety

i’ve been watching SO much spn lately, & i can’t stop thinking about sam helping me calm down from a panic attack. like maybe they’re on a case, the reader is fine throughout, but as soon as the adrenaline wears off, she’s miserable. but then sam finds her, holds her & they talk.

if you do end up writing this thank you so much, & please take your time! i appreciate you taking this request at all.

Ofc! Here you go <3

Summary: Sam helps Reader through a panic attack

Warnings: Panic Attacks & Anxiety

Y/N had always loved the thrill of the hunt. The rush that came with taking down a monster, the feeling of accomplishment when a case was solved, and the sense of purpose that came with being a hunter. But there was one thing that she didn't love - the panic attacks that often came after the adrenaline wore off.

It was a particularly difficult case, but Y/N had managed to keep her cool throughout. She and the Winchesters had tracked down a shapeshifter that had been terrorizing a small town, and after a tense showdown, they had managed to take it down. Y/N had felt triumphant in the moment, but as soon as the excitement had worn off, she felt her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps.

She tried to hide it from the Winchesters, but Sam had always been able to read her like a book. He found her sitting in the back of the Impala, her hands shaking as she tried to catch her breath.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down next to her. "Are you okay?"

Y/N shook her head, unable to speak. Sam took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it in a soothing motion.

"Just breathe," he said, his voice low and steady. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Y/N followed his instructions, focusing on her breathing as she tried to calm down. Sam's hand on hers was comforting, and she found herself relaxing a little.

"That's it," Sam said, a small smile on his face. "You're doing great."

Y/N took a few more deep breaths, and finally felt her heart rate start to slow down. She looked up at Sam, feeling embarrassed for having a panic attack in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be sorry," Sam said, squeezing her hand. "It happens to all of us. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Y/N nodded, grateful for his understanding. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her.

"Thank you," she said finally, looking up at Sam with a small smile.

"Anytime," he said, his own smile widening. "You know I'm always here for you, right?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his presence next to her.

"Sam?" she said after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Can we stay like this for a little while longer?"

"Of course," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "As long as you want."

They stayed like that for a while longer, Y/N feeling safe and comforted in Sam's embrace. As the sun started to set, they finally got up and made their way back to the motel

#sam winchester x plus size reader #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester comfort

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sincerelylea · 1 year

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tw: angst, severe angst

platonic between reader/winchesters, fix me fic. that's all ur getting out of me writing wise for supernatural; fix me fic galore.

sam's hand, lifted by his elbow, raises to wrap against your bedroom door. he can see it now, dean’s disappointment showing evident on his face when he’d inevitably tell him he couldn’t do it or that you refused to answer again. his jaw clenches then releases numerous times - and by god his hand is nearly shaking trying to knock against your door.

truth is, he’s afraid. afraid of what he might find one day when you don’t answer and he gets brave enough to break down the door.

you aren’t the same. but he knows no one could after spending a year in flames - a year in the pit.

a familiar sting of pain rings out in his chest at the thought. sam knew fixing people was impossible; hell he’d tried too many times with dean to know it was. but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t help you pick up your pieces and glue them back together.

dean’s leg is shaking as he lays back on his bed - that frustrated line in his brow as he thinks over what could be going on a few doors down. he has a sick feeling it isn’t good. that you won’t answer, that you might be dead in there. and he throws himself up from his bed at the thought.

they’d been where you were - he wanted you to realize that to at least let them in again. he knew you would look down at the handprints on your arms and think about it - hell dean still glances over his shoulder in the shower or when he shaves and thinks about being pulled out by cas.

but this. this was eating you - he saw you crumble by the day. him and sam both.

you spent your days curled in bed, eyes fixed on the wall with visions of hell plastered behind your eyelids playing like a film you couldn’t escape. you’d scrub your skin to rid the permanent feeling of slick blood dried on your skin. you’d cover every inch of you if it meant to hide the healing wounds and bruises and scayou’d pull your hair back taught behind headbands and clips and bandanas if it meant you didn’t have to feel your hair touch you like it felt when you were down there. rs. you changed your body wash and lotion to a scent you didn’t remember.

but worst of all. you saw it in their faces. saw that look that said they saw you like that. naked and bloody from the pit, following you anywhere, you were puddy in their hands.

looking at them was a reminder that it was real. you couldn’t escape your brain - you had to live with it. and a burning guilt ate at you besides the constant reliving of it that you were failing them.

the next morning you showered, pulled your hair back, wiped tears from your eyes and cheeks, and covered your hands with your long sleeve shirt and flannel (stolen from dean’s arsenal he kept) and met them for breakfast.

it was nerve wracking enough to step out into the world outside of the safe space of your bedroom. shaky handed, watery eyed, your knees almost buckled at the thought of having to do it.

you villainized the idea of touching someone after you returned - it’d been a week since you saw the insides of hell, and six days since looking at sam or dean. your greatest comfort turned so sour in your mouth - you only yearned to gain that comforting feeling form them again.

you knew they’d never hurt you,

up here at least.

when you turn the corner, the skin around your eyes a sickly shade of red and your eyes as well - dean looks like he’d seen a ghost.

you shuffle out further and clear your throat - sam turns from his spot at the stove. the smell of coffee warms your insides, and you stand at the table and feel small beneath the two set of eyes focused keenly on you.

at any second you’re waiting on fire to spurt from the table and engulf the room and to be reminded you’re still in hell - but it doesn’t happen.

dean stands, ditching his coffee and computer.

your eyes focus on the floor, but for a moment they dart upwards to meet dean’s. he’s got that soft look - melted like butter. the line in his brow is soft, concerned, worried. it’s killing you. his fists clench once by his sides. you decide to keep your eyes on him.

you remember dean before hell. his metallica and motley crue records - the way he ate his burgers, that one time you sneaked a couple of strips of bacon in one you’d made with him and you thought he’d pass out right then in there. the way he always smelled woodsy and his working-man-hands were surprisingly kind. the way he’d squeeze your shoulder and force you to tell him that you’d be careful on a hunt. how his hugs felt, how he kissed the crown of your head when you found out your parents were dead.

you owe something to them.

“i-i…” you swallow, and bring your hands together to wring them nervously. dean sees the water growing on your lash line and wishes you’d just stop. you don’t need to do this, you don’t have to do this. “i-i know i’ve been… away… since-” you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“anyway. sorry for not being more active.” every word you say sounds like it’s exasperating; like death could claim you at any second. you look up to sam across the room for only a moment, you decide not to think too much on the look on his face and instead focus back on the floor for a moment before looking back to dean.

“i’ll be better- i don’t know-” you feel his hands push your shoulders into his arms, meeting his body with a small bit of force.

it’s all overwhelming for a moment - but nearly immediately your eyes are watered over. he feels like a strong force. there in that moment you couldn’t be taken, you wouldn’t be - not like this. you were back, and human, and they were human, and real, and not figments of hell made to hurt you. this was dean. dean was holding you.

“i’m here.” he says, a whisper. you wrap your arms tight around his middle, his hand cradles the back of your head, presses you further.

“i know.” you respond, tearfully. that dam breaks like force, and you’re weeping into his sleep shirt, the tremble of your arms around him has him soothing your hair with his palm.

“we’re here, sweetheart.” you pull from dean, if anything to look at him and to remember him this way instead of that fearful look he had while sam wrapped a jacket around your battered frame the night they pulled you.

he braces your forearms first, but his hands are everywhere. he soothes the sides of your face, clearing hair from you and your neck, holding your jaw with care before squeezing your arms again.

“you don’t owe us an explanation.” sam speaks up. he’s wilted, tired even. his facial hair is growing in a bit, and he looks handsome and a bit aged like you always remembered.

you nod your head and wipe your face, tightly holding onto dean’s arm for a moment before you turn to sam and begin to walk towards him. “you don’t owe us anything. we want to help you.” sam’s large hand soothes over the top of your head before swiping over your wet cheeks.

your mouth is downturned, you fall into his hold. his cheeks leans into the top of your head, hand running over your back.

you remember sam before hell. he always smelled warm, and he always was. his embrace, his hands, his voice. he was gentle - always the one to care and ask and plead. you remember the way his face lit up on christmas when you got him a tolkien book set and an audible subscription. he hugged you with tissue paper still in his hands. you remember the way he was always patient at patching you up after hunts and how he’d always share his bed if you had a nightmare.

when you part, sam has that look in his eyes like he’s asking for permission. his hands are focused on your sleeves, fingers tucked into the edges waiting for your okay. dean’s coming up behind you when you nod, feeling the gentle way he braces your forearm with his opposite hand as he pulls up your sleeves to reveal the litters of scars and wounds and bruises - not only that, but the healed over handprints conquering your skin.

sam’s hand wraps around your forearm just over the grip of the handprint on your left arm, dean’s smooths over the one on your right.

“we’d never stop fighting for you, kid.” dean reminds from your right. you look up to him and nod.

“i’ll never stop fighting for you guys either.”

the bath water was pink. though the water was warm you were shaking in the tub. your wounds ached at the feeling of water in them, muscles relaxed in the warmth yet you’re still on high alert that it isn’t over.

dean pours water over the back of your hair, sam gently rubs off dirt from your nails.

your eyes are focused clear on the wall in front of you.

“it’ll be okay.”

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thatonewriter15 · 2 months

Text

Crave

Relationship: Sam Winchester/Reader; Sam Winchester/Original Female Character

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 391

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Fluff, Angst

Summary: She gives Sam what he needs.

#spn fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fic #sam winchester comfort #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam winchester #larrs wrote a thing

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 3 months

Text

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family.

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash.

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints.

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping.

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation.

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face.

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed.

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!?

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since.

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example.

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied.

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile.

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you.

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake.

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message.

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound.

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you.

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face.

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him.

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…”

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips.

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement.

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly.

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered.

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again.

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed.

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean x reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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am3ricanpsycho420 · 8 days

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this is officially a sam winchester stan account

#supernatural #sam winchester is so sexy #sam winchester #dean winchester is so sexy #dean winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester comfort #sam winchester imagine

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tongjingnian · 4 months

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The research can wait (I want to kiss you now).

It is recommended to increase the screen brightness for a better viewing experience 😉

This is a painting that participated in 2023 Dean/Sam Christmas Eggnog Event on Weibo, feel free to search for ＃2023DS圣诞蛋奶酒 on Weibo to view the wonderful works from wonderful wincesties☺️

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #wincest #sam and dean #samdean #deansam #later bunker period #i love later season wincest #they are so domestic #and comfortable with each other #💕💕💕#quote from Dean: I'm happy with who I am. And I'm happy with who you are.#don't know do i remember it correctly but it's similar at least XD

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octoberclidan · 9 months

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You Scared Me

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader and Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Request: They are on a hunt despite her feeling off since waking up, but she don't want to bother the boys. She gets worse and her breathing more difficult [...] I trust you with more details, like her worsen, the boys maybe don't notice at first until they hear her coughing and wheezing. Add some angst and fluff and looooots of worried Dean and Sam and you make a little reader heart very happy.

Masterlist

Story

She knew something had been off since the previous day. She'd been tired all day, hadn't had any appetite, and hadn't wanted to talk to anyone. Sam had found a new case, some sort of unexplained disappearances several towns over, and she'd been less than enthusiastic about having to go. Sam and Dean hadn't really questioned it, Sam already absorbed in research and Dean already packing things and getting his car ready for a long drive. [Y/N] had spent the day in bed, flicking through her phone, watching TV, and falling in and out of naps. She finally fell asleep fully at 11pm, and was woken up by a single bang on her door, followed by a flood of light over her eyes as the door opened.

"I told you we were leaving early, get your ass out of bed". Dean was standing in her doorway, arms crossed, already dressed and ready for the hunt ahead. She glared at him while he stood there, clearly not moving until he had evidence that she was going to get up. "Come on, we don't have all day! Baby's already loaded up and ready, Sam's waiting, I'm waiting, it's just you that's left". She picked up her pillow and tossed it at him before turning over and facing away from him.

[Y/N] had been living with the Winchesters for a couple of months now, but had known them for a few years. They'd met through Jody, they'd dropped by to visit her after a hunt one day while [Y/N] was staying with her, and she'd ended up giving them her number and told them to call her if they ever needed help with a case. [Y/N] was particularly good with ghosts, and Dean had called her only two weeks later to help out with a ghost case while Sam's leg was broken. It turned out that they worked really well together, and she'd called them a few weeks later to help with a case of her own. It then turned out that all three of them worked well as a team. Over the course of a year or so, they ended up working all cases together, and [Y/N] had stayed in the bunker a few times too. Then, two months ago, Sam asked her why she didn't just stay, that it would be easier to all be in the same place since the worked the same cases anyway, and so she stayed.

"[Y/N]..." Dean's voice had a warning tone to it, and she listened as he walked over to her bed. "Are you coming or not?" She mumbled something into her sheets, something not particularly nice about Dean, but he didn't pay any attention to it as he pulled the covers off her.

"Dean! Jesus, I'm getting up okay? A bit of privacy? I'm not Sam". She pulled her covers back over herself, having only slept in her underwear during the night as she felt hot, but Dean wasn't looking at her, already heading back towards the door.

"You need to be at the car in 15 minutes. Skip breakfast, we'll stop somewhere on the way. Just shower and dress". He called back over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway. She rolled her eyes and breathed in to sigh, but her breath caught in her throat and she ended up coughing, quickly pulling the covers over her mouth to muffle the noise. The last thing she needed was for Sam or Dean to not only insist that she stay in the bunker, but that one of them stay behind with her. She really didn't like it when one of the boys went on a solo hunt. They made stupid decisions when they hunted together at the best of times, but even worse decisions when they were out there alone. Any time one of them went on a case on their own, she wouldn't be able to do anything but worry until they got back. She knew if they thought she was sick, they wouldn't let her go. She also knew that if they thought she was sick, they wouldn't leave her alone either, sending one of them off alone. So, she cleared her throat, and pushed herself off the bed, grabbing some clothes and a towel before heading to shower. She figured a quick shower would help wake her up, and she decided on a cold shower, since she suspected she had a bit of a temperature. She elected to try and ignore it.

In fifteen minutes, as per Dean's orders, she was washed and dressed, had packed her hunting back, and stepped into the garage, where she found Sam sitting in the Impala and Dean leaning on it, arms crossed, waiting for her. "You said fifteen minutes, I'm here". She said as she avoided his gaze and opened up the back door to shove her bag onto the seat before sliding in herself. She was about to pull the door closed behind her when Dean stopped it.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked, leaning down to look at her.

"Yeah, fine". She brushed him off and Sam turned around in his seat to look at her.

"You do look a bit pale [Y/N]". Sam frowned at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine Sam, really". She turned to look up at Dean. "Are we going or are we just gonna sit here and chat?" He breathed in sharply but closed the door, then walked around to the driver's side and got in. As soon as he started up the engine, he turned on one of his tapes, and [Y/N] leaned her head against the window. She knew she'd have a couple of hours before they stopped for food, so she was going to try and get a bit of sleep while she could.

***

[Y/N] was woken up by a light shaking on her leg. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw Sam turned around in his seat, reaching over to shake her with his hand on her thigh. "Hey, you fell asleep. We're at a diner, gonna get some food". Looking over to Dean's spot, she saw he was already out of the car. She rubbed her eyes and nodded at Sam, so he got out too. Once his door was closed she coughed into her elbow, her throat still feeling scratchy, like there was something caught in it. Her head was also aching now, which probably wasn't helped by leaning it against the hard glass of the window for however long she'd been out. She stretched before grabbing her bag and stepped out of the car, covering her eyes when the sun shone straight into them. She followed the boys into the diner and slid into a booth, pretending to look at a menu. Even just the thought of eating something made her feel nauseous, so there was no way she was going to be able to eat in front of the boys.

Dean flashed the waitress his signature smile while he ordered a cheeseburger, earning a disgusted face from Sam. "For breakfast Dean? Seriously?" Sam shook his head and looked up to the waitress. "Uh for me just a coffee, thanks". The waitress turned her attention to [Y/N].

"And for you?"

"Oh, um... just a glass of water please". [Y/N] said as she handed the menu over to her. Once the waitress had left, both boys raised an eyebrow at [Y/N]. "What?"

"Why didn't you order anything?" Sam asked.

"You only ordered coffee, what's the big deal?"

"I ate before we left, since I was up before both of you. You haven't eaten anything and we have another long drive after this".

"Yeah, not to mention a hunt, you should eat something [Y/N]". Dean said to her.

"I'll eat later, I'm just not hungry right now". The two boys shared a look but didn't push it. [Y/N] thought she would throw up several times as Dean ate his burger, every time she caught a glance of the grease dripping down his chin. The smell of Sam's coffee didn't help either, nor did the sunlight reflecting off the cutlery on the table beside them, catching in her eyes and adding to the headache. Sam and Dean talked about the hunt ahead, and [Y/N] nodded or said 'yeah' every so often to make it seem like she was listening, but she was really just focusing on trying not to cough in front of them. When Dean belched she had to excuse herself and almost ran to the restroom. She leaned over the toilet for a few minutes and she vomited, though there wasn't much to throw up. She knelt back when she was done and took a few deep breaths, each time being interrupted by a coughing fit. She wiped her forehead and could feel sweat on it, she knew she had a high temperature. It was going to get harder to hide it from Sam and Dean, but she wasn't going to let them send her back home. She was going to stay on the hunt with them and see it through.

***

[Y/N] had been trying to fall back to sleep in the car for the two hours that had passed since she'd come out of the diner's restroom. She felt cold now, and after complaining about it every five minutes for an hour, Dean had shoved his jacket back at her. She also complained that his music was too loud and kept complaining until he just turned it off. At first he was worried that something was wrong, but Sam had asked her several times and she'd insisted that she was fine, so he stopped asking. Now they were both annoyed with her, she wouldn't even let them talk about the case, snapping at them to shut up twice already. She couldn't get comfortable, even with Dean's jacket. She kept twisting and turning in her seat, trying to find a position that eased the aches she was feeling, but nothing worked. She resorted to just staring out of the window until their next stop, another diner, where she ordered fries to stop the boys saying something else. She managed to get through half of them before she had to excuse herself to the restroom to throw them back up, only barely making it to the toilet on time.

After a third long drive, it was dark when they got to a motel. Dean opened the door to their room and [Y/N] noticed it was their usual set up; two beds and a couch. The boys nearly always took the beds while she took the couch, and this time was no different. Luckily for [Y/N], both Sam and Dean were tired after the long day and immediately went to sleep. She decided to step outside for a few minutes and try to let the cold air cool her down, also using the time to try and clear her throat properly since she'd been trying to not cough in the car. The air was an immediate relief, and she stood outside the door for twenty minutes, looking up at the stars in the sky until she was too tired. As soon as her head hit her pillow on the couch, she was out.

***

Unfortunately, the next morning she had woken up feeling even worse. She was struggling to hide it from the boys, and had realised as soon as she'd woken up that she had a new symptom. Now she was dizzy, and found it difficult to find her balance. She had thrown out her breakfast when they weren't looking, both having been too invested in a bit of research Sam had found on his laptop, but she'd coughed several times in front of them, no longer able to hold it in. Sam had commented twice on how pale she looked, and Dean had commented that the cough sounded like it was in her chest every time, but she'd insisted there was just something caught in her throat. The boys' research had all pointed to a djinn, and the most likely place that it was hiding was in a large abandoned hotel not too far from where the three were staying. Opting to not bring a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, they had decided to just aim for its head and either chop it off or cause enough damage to kill it.

It had been Dean's idea to split up and each take different floors of the hotel. [Y/N] took the ground floor and had been looking in and out of different rooms, glancing around for any evidence of the djinn. It was slow, she had to keep stopping to either sit down or lean against a wall to catch her breath and cough, trying to keep it quiet in case the djinn was around. She made it to what looked like a conference room when her vision started going blurry, and black spots formed around her periphery. Before she had time to find somewhere to sit, she was on the ground, unconscious.

***

"How many times did you ask her if she was okay?" The voice was muffled, but [Y/N] recognised it as Dean's.

"Let's just get her back to the motel, we can talk about it later. She's burning up". Sam's voice was also accompanied by a vibration against her side, and she soon realised that he was walking, carrying her and holding her against his chest. She tried to open her eyes but they were too heavy.

She heard Dean sigh. "Is it bad enough for the hospital?"

"I don't think so, we should be able to cool her down at the motel". Sam stopped walking and she heard a car door open. His grip on her tightened as he lowered himself into the car, and she felt another pair of hands on her, helping Sam position her so she was lying down with her head on his lap. She felt his fingers brush her hair out of her face and then the back of his hand was on her forehead. "I think she's actually cooled down a bit since we found her, just drive quickly?" She pictured Dean nodding as she heard the door close behind her and a door in front of her open before she heard the car's engine start up. Although she still felt out of it and could feel herself slipping back to sleep, she knew both boys were annoyed, if not angry, and she wasn't looking forward to waking up and dealing with that.

***

She was vaguely aware of Sam pushing her out of the car into Dean's arms, and both of them mumbling to each other as Dean carried her to their room. He lay her down on something soft and felt her forehead. "She seems really sick Sammy, how far away is the nearest hospital?"

"There isn't one anywhere closeby, I'll run out and see if I can pick up some stuff that will help though". She heard the sound of keys being thrown and caught, a quick reassurance from Sam that she was going to be okay, and then the door closing as Sam left. Dean let out a deep breath and she felt the bed dip beside her. "You're okay". He whispered as he unzipped her jacket, wanting to get her out of the extra layers and cool her down. "You scared me. We couldn't find you, we thought the djinn got you, but it didn't know anything about you when we found it". She felt as he got off the bed to pull her shoes off. "It felt like it took forever to find you, and when we did... fuck [Y/N]. You were slumped on the ground, covered in sweat. You didn't wake up when I shouted, you didn't wake up when I shook you, you didn't wake up when Sam picked you up. You scared me". He walked away for a few minutes, and when he came back she felt something cold on her forehead. She tried to open her eyes again but they were still too heavy, and she was too tired to speak. "You scared me, but you're okay, you're gonna be okay. Sammy's going to get you some stuff to make you feel better, then we'll get you home. You just rest". His thumb lightly stroked her cheek, and she let herself drift off again.

***

The room was only dimly lit when she finally awoke and opened her eyes. She looked over and saw Sam and Dean's figures sitting at the little table in the motel room, silhouetted as they sat in front of the window. She immediately realised that she was in the bed that Dean had slept in the previous night, since the pillow smelled like him. They weren't talking, Sam's face was lit up from his laptop, while Dean stared out the window taking sips from his beer. She watched them for several moments, not wanting to kick start a lecture. Unfortunately she couldn't help the cough that came from her chest, and both boys looked in her direction to see her looking back at them.

"Hey". [Y/N] said timidly, noticing how Dean's jaw was clenched. Sam however, stood up and walked straight over to her to take the wet cloth off her forehead.

"How do you feel?" He asked, using a tissue to dab away the water that was left behind.

"Not great". She admitted, looking away from him, but she heard Dean scoff and looked back to Sam for a response.

"Dean's pretty annoyed that you said you were fine when you weren't". Sam threw away the tissue and sat down on the bed beside her, frowning down at her.

"I'm annoyed because you put us all in danger with your arrogance and stupidity". Dean put his bottle down a little too forcefully on the table.

"Dean, give her a few minutes okay? We can have this conversation later". Ignoring Sam, Dean stood up and walked over to the bed, arms crossed and glaring down at her.

"You never, ever lie about your health while on a hunt. You could've gotten yourself killed. You could've gotten me killed, or Sam. You know better than that". She felt tears start to form in her eyes, being scolded by Dean hurt. She would never usually let herself cry in front of the boys, but she just had no energy to try and hold it in. Dean had already looked away though, missing her tears and staring back out the window. It was Sam who noticed the tear escape [Y/N]'s eye, and his frown quickly dissolved as he leaned over to wipe it away.

"I'm sorry". Her voice was shaky, and she sniffed, calling Dean's attention as he turned back to look at her. Sighing, he knelt down on the floor beside her.

"Why didn't you just tell us that you were sick? Why did you come on the hunt?"

"I worry". She looked down as Sam wiped another of her tears away. "When you're out there without me, or one of you goes alone, I worry. If I told you I was sick you would've made me stay home and I wouldn't have been able to sleep or anything".

Dean shared a look with Sam, hoping he'd know how to respond to that. "Yeah, I worry too [Y/N]. I get that. You worried both of us earlier though, do you get that? You collapsed when neither of us were there to catch you, you could've hit you head, you could've been found defenceless by the djinn. Dean's right, you should've told us you weren't feeling well". He paused to feel her forehead quickly, nodding at Dean to signal that she was cooler now. "How about if one of us is too sick to hunt, we make a deal to always tell each other. We have a network of hunters to call, someone else can take over. We're a team, so if one of us is sick, the other two can take a break from hunting and just look after them and help them get better. How does that sound?" [Y/N] looked between both brothers before nodding in agreement, and Sam smiled at her and reached to squeeze her hand.

"Then it's a deal". Dean smiled at her too, happy with the solution Sam had come up with. "Now there's only one other issue to discuss". [Y/N] looked to him, confused. "You're in my bed". He chuckled. "So you have a decision to make. You wanna keep it to yourself? I don't mind taking your couch for the night. Or, I can offer you a cuddle buddy for the night instead". She knew this was Dean's version of apologising for being angry at her, and she couldn't help but accept it when she saw how genuine his expression was.

"I think a cuddle buddy would help me feel better".

"Yeah? Okay. Sam, time for you to get off the bed". Sam quickly followed Dean's command, standing up, leaning down to give [Y/N] a quick kiss on her forehead, and made his way over to his own bed, smiling at the sincere interaction between his brother and [Y/N]. [Y/N] moved over a bit while Dean kicked off his shoes and shoved down his jeans before lifting up the covers and sliding in beside her. Laying on his back, he slid an arm under her shoulders and pulled her over to lean her head on his chest. He looked down and pressed his lips to the top of her head before pulling the covers up higher around both of them. He gently traced different shapes over the thin sheet that covered her arm, doing his best to try and lull her back to sleep for the night. She was safe now in his arms, and he wasn't scared anymore.

The end

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jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before.

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words.

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet.

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”.

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt.

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror.

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence.

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated.

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now.

“Sammy…” Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled.

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement.

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement.

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep.

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn x reader #spn x sister reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #supernatural fanfiction #hurt/comfort #touch starved #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader

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deanscherrypie69 · 2 months

Text

Did it mean something? D.W𖧷

♡Dean Winchester X Female Reader♡

♡Warnings: Mentions of kissing, and language no use of Y/n. 18+ pls minors DNI!!!!!♡ please do not post my fics anywhere else expect tumblr, you have been warned!

♡Feedback is appreciated! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!!♡

♡Depending how this does I’ll post a part two!♡

♡My inbox is open for anything! (It will be open for requests soon!)♡

It had been a few days after Sam went to hell. Dean had lost his brother and you had lost your best friend that day. It was hard on you both. You didn't talk about it.

You both had been pushing your feelings down, about the whole situation, too scared to open up. Since Sam had been gone you and Dean had been hunting nonstop. It had been an easier way to cope with everything. Just pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

You And Dean had just finished vamp hunt and he offered to get food for you both.

After the hunt It had been raining like cats and dogs, you had been stuck in the hotel room trying to get a signal on the tv. "Come on!" You scream hitting the sides of the tv, it had been going out since the storm started, you sigh and run you hand across your face, when you were met with black and white static.

"Piece of shit-" You mutter kicking the bottom of the tv stand. You huff and sit on the edge of one of the motel beds.

You and Dean had been laying low for the past couple of days. You didn't hear from Bobby nor cas. You flop back onto the bed with a groan.

That was until the motel door swung open causing you to look over.

"Still nothing?" Dean questions throwing a white fastfood bag onto the little table in the kitchen.

"Nope." You say still looking at the ceiling.

You hear shuffling for a second, then you see the green eyed hunter standing over you with something wrapped in tinfoil. "Eat." He says placing it next to you.

You quickly sit up and grab the burger. You watch as Dean sits on the bed opposite bed across from you, he begins to unwrap the burger he had gotten both of you.

You watch as he bites into it, but you also noticed his wet hair. You watch him take two bites before looking in your direction.

Dean stops chewing the food in his mouth, "What?" He questions when he catches you stare at him.

"Nothing." You say.

Dean mumbles an 'ok' and continues to eat.

For some guy who had lost his brother he seems to be doing just fine. You get up from the bed, and walk into the kitchen, pulling out the chair you pull back the motel curtain, you stare out the window and watch the rain fall.

You missed Sam, he was your besfriend - besides Dean you thought, you and Dean were never really close it upset you, he never really talked to you about anything besides Sam. When you entered the room he'd go quite.

You never understood why.

You had been staring out the window for too long to notice the green eyed hunter sitting across from you.

"You really should eat."

His voice rumbles through your body. "I'm good." You say looking from the window and to the man that had been sitting across from you for god knows how long.

Dean sighs and leans back in the chair.

"You okay Dean?" You Hum crossing your arms over your chest.

"As good as i can be." He huffs through his nose, "I could ask you the same thing, I know loosing your bestfriend is hard." He says.

You roll your eyes, "He's your brother Dean."

Dean leans forward on the table his arms resting against the table. He nods his head, "We'll get him back." Dean says taking a deep breath, "We always do." He gets up from the table tapping his knuckles against the wood.

You notice the bruises that sit upon his knuckles, they were purple. He had gotten them trying to fight of a vampire, to save you.

"Sorry about that." You swallow, your eyes still focused on the purple.

Dean follows your gaze.

"Its nothing, happens." He says walking over to the fridge, he opens it pulling out two beers. He holds one up, He knew you weren't very much of a drinker. You hated beer. But why the hell not, right?

You get up from your chair and make your way over to Dean where he was leaning against the counter. He flicks the bottle top off and plops it in the sink behind him.

You copy his motion, you step beside him and plop the top into the sink.

You bring the bottle up to your lips, the bitter liquid runs down your throat. pullinging the bottle away, you notice Dean's eyes on yours.

"What?" You hiccup.

"Nothing," He says bringing the glass bottle up to his lips.

You begin to fidgit with the bottle, you were still facing the sink, staring down at the two bottle tops in the sink. "Do you ever think about it?" You hum.

Dean turns his head in confusion, "Think about..? he questions, you noticed the confusion in his voice.

You take a deep breath, "Getting out, hunting. And living a normal life."

Dean stares down at his bottle, "All the time." Dean sighs.

He had called one of his lovers, Lisa hoping to rekindle something with her now that Sam was gone, she said yes. Dean was supposed to leave by morning.

But Dean didn't know if he wanted too, it would leave you alone and he knew that you were counting on him to be there.

You sigh.

You could see Dean shifing in his spot. What was he thinking about you wonder?

You place the beer bottle down on the counter, making your way over to the bed. The staic looking on the tv fills your ears.

"Do you think about it?" Dean asks putting his bottle next to yours. He strieds over to the bed and sits next to you.

Talking a shaky breath, you turn to face the green eyed man. "No." Dean watches you fiddle with your fingers, as he waits for you to contiue, "I never saw myself settling down, or getting out of this life, it's not for me. This is my life. There's no changing that."

Dean nods at your words.

You look up to find the man looking at you. His eyes searching your face, going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

It all happened to fast, Dean's lips on yours you his on his shirt, urging him to take it off.

This was wrong, you thought. You never felt this way about him. He was so mysterious, he never let you in on anything that happened to him, it was always Sam filling you in.

You both could barely be in a room together without one of you leaving because of the awkwardness.

But maybe it was Dean putting up a guard to try and protect you. He knew you didn't belong in this life, hunting and killing things. It just wasn't right for you.

You're different you aren't like him or Sam. And that's what Dean liked.

You were bought out of your thoughts when Dean nipped your ear causing you to squeal. "everything okay?" Dean questions looking up. You were straddling him.

His lips were pink and swollen from the kissing.

You quickly nod and grab his face, pressing your lips against his.

- - You had been woken up by a pounding on the door, you shoot up out of the bed, your eyes still trying to adjust from the light that was coming through the window.

You quickly pull the covers from your body, cold air hits your skin, you were naked. "Shit." You mumble, the pouding on the door didn't stop.

You looking over on the side of your bed where you were hoping to find Dean but he was gone. A bad feeling washed over you when you slide you t-shirt over your head.

You smelt him everywhere. In your skin in your hair. He was everywhere but no where all at once.

Putting the last leg into your jean's you fling open the door.

You were met with an old lady and a cleaning cart, "Room service!" She smiles, squeezing past you with her cart. You close the door behind you.

You quickly rush over to the bathrrom, maybe he'd just been in there, but you were met with a dark room. His duffle bag was gone. You swallow hard.

You walk back into the kitchen to find the beer bottles still sitting on the counter. Everything was gone, he was gone.

Tears form in your eyes. You grab your socks and shoes, and your coat that had been on the back of the chair in the kitchen chair.

You do a quick run through of the room to make sure you weren't missing anything.

Turing your head over your shoulder you had noticed the tv wasn't static anymore, an episode of 'Dr sexy' Was playing on the screen.

The cleaning lady had made her way over to the kitchen area, throwing away the bottles you and Dean had drank out of earlier.

You sigh and fish the hotel key out of your pocket before setting it down on the table.

You shut the door of the motel behind you, you fish out your phone and scroll through your contacts.

You click on the name before letting it ring a few times.

"Hey Bobby, care to give a girl a lift?"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x you #dean winchester fic #supernatural dean #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fic #spn one shot #spn fanfic

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glorystark · 17 days

Text

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

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zepskies · 8 months

Text

Choosing Him

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, Sam W. x Reader

Summary: You and Sam have been dating and living together for a few months, when Dean shocks you with a confession. Now you have to choose.

AN: This was requested by this beautiful anon! (And also by my friend! ❤️)

Read this as a stand-alone or see this imagine for context: Dean gives you an impossible choice. (In which Dean is in love with Sam’s girlfriend.)

**Note: This contains two alternate endings: Sam vs. Dean.

Song Inspo: “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, as well as love requited.

Imagine: Choosing him.

“Dean, just talk to me. What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

No, he implored. Angrily.

But he implored, nonetheless.

Dean was good at being stubborn. In fact, he was a professional. His lips were tight in a frown, his brows just as knitted as his brother’s.

He sat cross armed on the couch while Sam stood, using his hands to punctuate his exclamations, as he often did when he was frustrated.

“Nothing, man. I already told you,” Dean tried.

“No,” Sam said sharply. “She’s actively avoiding you. And you’re taking any excuse you can not to be within three feet of my girlfriend. So either you said something, or you did something.”

Dean looked up at his brother with a heavy sigh through his nose.

They’d been at this for a while now. So long that he was surprised you hadn’t come barreling into the living room already to break up the argument. Because he had a feeling that just the sight of you would shut them both up. (Not in a good way.)

Dean’s throat was tight, his stomach churning with unease, though he tried to show none of it on his face. He could see that Sam was on the verge of losing his shit. Just a hair away from assuming the worst.

And the worst of him.

That, Dean couldn’t abide.

“Look,” he gritted out. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sam paused, tilting his head. He took in a breath that was only slightly calming, enough that he lowered to a seat on the coffee table, across from his brother.

“Then what’d you say?” he asked.

Dean felt even guiltier just remembering.

Three weeks ago…

You wanted to know why he was drinking alone. Why he’d downed nearly an entire bottle of Jameson in the kitchen on a Tuesday night.

“You really wanna know?” Dean asked. His voice was both a rumble and a coarse whisper. His green-eyed gaze fell to your lips.

He watched you suck in a subtle breath. Your eyed widened, and your body froze. He also saw the blush staining your cheeks.

So he leaned in, slowly. He was mere inches away from finding out how sweet you really were.

He heard your shallow breath. His eyes flicked up to yours, and instinctively knew that he’d captured you. He was making you think about it.

“Tell me no,” Dean said. Tell me to stop, or I swear to God...

“Dean, what...” you whispered. But that wasn’t a no.

Still, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. Not to Sam.

Dean merely reached out with a hand to soothe a gentle thumb across your cheek. He realized then that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you go, if he had to.

"It comes down to this," Dean said. His voice was deep, full of grit and desire. He saw the conflict in your eyes.

He swallowed. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he used every ounce of self-restraint he had left, forcing his hand to fall away from your cheek.

"You've got two choices, sweetheart," he said. And he pulled away, leaving you there at the table.

You never told him to stop…but he just couldn’t do it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean eventually answered his brother.

He ultimately couldn’t bring himself to voice the desperation of a drunken idiot.

He met Sam’s gaze directly. This much, he could say.

“All you need to know is I’d never…even drunk off my ass, I’d never hurt you,” Dean said.

Sam turned those words back and forth in his mind. His mouth firmed as he read between the lines, as he so often had to with Dean, who struggled to express the deeper parts of himself. Sam realized then what his brother was finally confessing.

“She loves you,” Dean added, with a self-deprecating smile.

That fell between them for a moment, as Sam rested a hand on his knee and processed all of this in record time. He glanced up.

“What about you?” he asked.

Again, with that quirk of a smile that didn’t reach Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that either.”

He got up, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and left him there to continue thinking. Dean passed the kitchen and continued down the hall.

Neither man realized that you were standing behind the kitchen doorway. You’d been about to attempt a bit of stress baking. A chocolate tart, maybe. Or a cheese souffle. Or even the new cherry pie recipe you’d found for Dean. Anything to take your mind off your current predicament.

However, now you knew you couldn’t put it off anymore.

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ventured into the living room, where your boyfriend was still brooding. He raised his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. Even now, he was relieved to see you. He also felt like he was standing on unsteady ground.

“Hey, yourself,” you greeted back. You tried to smile, but your heart was in your stomach with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”

Sam seemed to realize what you wanted to talk about. He sighed.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Dean and I talked it out—”

“No. No, because I need to say this. Because you deserve to hear it from me,” you insisted.

You also paused, as you didn’t quite know where to go from here.

Sam’s brows furrowed, but he tried to be patient. He watched your gears turning as thought to thought shifted in your eyes. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how open and expressive you were. He could usually tell what you were thinking…except for today. And the past few weeks.

That was what had him more nervous than he’d like to admit. If a blow was coming, he’d really like to be prepared…but he just couldn’t fucking tell.

Until you began speaking.

“Okay, first of all. Nothing happened,” you assured. You rested your hands on Sam’s shoulders. He looked up into your eyes, but before he could even nod in response, you kept going.

“Dean was drunk, and I wasn’t. Which probably won’t make you feel all that better, but the point is, all I did was ask him what’s wrong? And he didn’t want to tell me. But then I pushed the issue, as you know I do sometimes. I’m working on it, I really am.”

You levied a finger at Sam, at which he could only nod. Again, before he could offer a reply, you kept going.

“Well, finally he was all, you sure you wanna know?” you said, mimicking Dean’s deeper voice. Sam was tempted to smile, if but for what you were actually saying, and the way your gaze averted from his.

“And there was a moment there when…I thought maybe he might try to…but he didn’t. The problem is, I didn’t say no,” you confessed. Your brows knitted as you revealed how disheartened you felt at that, how guilt-ridden.

Sam’s eyes softened a bit, even though your words stung.

“I should’ve said it,” you knew. “I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Though in my defense! I was in shock. He was saying shocking things without saying them, you know? And I don’t want to be in this cliché…teen drama-esque, love triangle bullshit! You’re not Edward and I’m not Bella and this isn’t goddamn Twilight. And I refuse to be treated as such.”

You were huffing and puffing by the end of your little rant. Your eyes widened a fraction when you caught Sam trying to stamp down a smile.

“Is this amusing to you?” you snapped.

“Not at all,” Sam said. He shook his head, and with a sigh, drew you back to him with his hands on your hips. You stood between his open legs and grasped the front of his shirt.

“Look, thank you for telling me,” he said. “I know that we kind of rushed this a little. The moving in thing, I mean. It just…it felt right, at the time.”

“Yeah, I was kinda there for that,” you quipped. Your smile made him smile in return.

“Well, I guess I just need to ask you…if it still feels right,” he said.

He looked up into your eyes, still not quite sure what he would find. His heart was in his throat, no matter how many times he cleared it. He was good at looking calm when he wasn’t, and maybe his face was composed, but inside him was a tempest.

You calmed it with one touch. A gentle hand on his chest.

“Sam,” you said. Your smile was beautiful and warm. “After you left Stanford. After what happened to Jess…I didn’t know that her funeral was the last time I was ever going to see you.”

Despite that melancholy memory, your lips soon curved into a grin.

“Well, not for a long time anyway.” You both lightened at that.

Then you became more contemplative. Your gaze wandered beyond him for a moment, lost in the past.

Sam’s hands moved up to your waist and squeezed gently. You came back to him with a brighter expression.

“But when I saw you again, I thought…damn, he’s amazing,” you said with a giggle. “Even more amazing then when I knew him.”

Sam looked down at that, despite his smile. You picked him back up with your hand on his cheek. It was overgrown with stubble, a week or so past when he'd usually shave.

You didn't mind the scratchiness, but you wondered if you'd been distracting him too with your indecision. That thought made you feel all the more guilty.

“I still think that when I see you. Get to wake up next to you, research mythology and symbology and dead languages, and other things that should be impossible,” you said. “So yes, it still feels right for me. Very much so.”

Sam’s more genuine smile lightened you. He nodded and let you tilt his head back, slipping your fingers through his hair. He liked the way you touched him freely, both reassuring and affectionate.

He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been quietly afraid. Afraid he'd read you wrong, that his heart had somehow lied to him. Now he knew that it rang true.

“Okay. Good,” he said. And he reached up to touch his lips to yours.

At least, it was a simple touch at first. It soon grew in passion, becoming a more claiming kiss. He pulled you in flush against him. A hand tangled into your hair, brushing against the back of your neck, and you hummed in delight.

Your hands sunk further into his hair, just as your mouth wordlessly claimed him back. His long fingers trailed down your back and made you shiver against him. You gave more and more of yourself with each kiss.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Because he deserved to hear that too.

Sam paused. His eyes were still closed as he recovered some of his breath. He rested his forehead against yours and brushed a tender hand down the soft column of your neck.

"I love you too," he admitted. He had resisted saying it, and even felt a bit ashamed that he'd doubted your feelings. Now, he felt like an idiot for not fighting harder before.

This, what he had with you, it was worth fighting for.

He smiled at the way you kissed his cheek then, soft and slow and with purpose.

After a moment, you pulled away to stroke his cheek once more…and also to tell him one last thing.

“When I saw you again, I did have another thought,” you said. “He’s amazing, but…how can I think that about my best friend’s boyfriend?”

Sam frowned then, as that reality had crossed his mind as well, back when he reconnected with you last year. You held a hand to your chest, over your heart.

“Jess was like a sister to me. So how could I think about you like that? It didn’t matter how much time had passed since her death. That thought, and those feelings still had weight, Sam,” you said. “My point is…try not to be too hard on your brother for this. I think he’d rather lob off an arm than cause you any pain.”

Sam considered your words with a nod.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry,” he said.

“No, I…I’d like to talk to him, if you don’t mind,” you said. “That is, if you trust me.”

Sam’s brows rose, and then furrowed slightly.

“I do, baby,” he said. “You can talk to him if you want, but…I have to. He’s my brother. He should hear it from me too.”

No need, Dean couldn’t help but think.

He pushed off from the wall, twisting a wrench in his hand as he made his way back to the garage.

It stung. Actually, it fucking cut and twisted. More painfully than Dean would ever, ever admit.

However, he knew when he needed to bow out. This was one of those times.

He’d just have to learn how to let you go, for good this time. He wouldn’t risk hurting you, or his brother again.

So once he made it to the end of the hall, he shut the door, once and for all.

Or…

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ducked out the back way, heading down the hall.

You found Dean exactly where you’d expected—in the garage, getting ready to work on his Baby. He was sitting on a stool with his box of tools beside him. Tools he didn’t let anyone touch (except for that one time you hid his power drill, just to mess with him).

You crossed your arms.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Dean sighed, and spied your stern face over his shoulder.

“What fucking now?” he muttered. You didn't quite hear him, but you recognized his surly frown.

“Yes, right now,” you said. “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Dean asked, raising incredulous brows. “Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You stepped up to him while he swiveled in your direction. “If you supposedly had feelings for me, why did you wait so damn long? Why did you wait until we got here?”

You weren’t just casually dating his brother. You were living with him. Even if it had just been a few months, you loved Sam…and yet, you hadn’t pushed Dean away when he almost kissed you.

Why, why, why? you thought. Your teeth ground together when you thought of how tenderly Dean had touched you. The fire in his eyes, just barely held back by a thin wall of self-restraint.

“Tell me no,” he’d said.

And now, annoyance made his face tight.

“Look, just forget about it, all right? I was drunk—”

“No. You weren’t that drunk,” you refuted. “I’ve seen you slaphappy, laughing at nothing, grinning like the Joker and falling onto the couch face-first, passed out drunk. You were coherent that night. You were honest. So tell me, how long have you felt this way?”

Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this. You both knew that, but he also knew that you weren’t giving him much of a choice.

And yet, you were waiting on him, as patiently as you could manage (something he knew was difficult for you). He sighed deeply.

“Pretty much from the beginning,” he said.

“What?” you said, ever so eloquently. You wanted to cringe at yourself. (And you called yourself a linguist.)

Your lips pursed in disbelief. “What part of the beginning?”

Dean glared heavenward, as if that could stop you from asking questions.

“From the first damn second I saw you,” he snapped. The longer he looked at you, however, he couldn’t help but soften. “I remember, you argued with Sam about dead languages, that Latin was for pussies. Ancient Greek was the tougher beat.”

That was true, you thought. And that argument stemmed back from when you and Sam were in college. Ancient history, you could say.

“The Greeks were more fun too,” you added. It triggered a smile to briefly lighten Dean’s face.

“Yeah, you said something about mass orgies,” he said, his brows furrowing.

You bit your lip at the memory. You might’ve winked at Dean with more confidence than you’d felt at the time.

Now, the man shook his head.

“Right then, I wanted to know you,” he said. “Problem is, the more I did, the more I liked what I saw.”

You stared back at him in dismay.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me from the beginning?” you asked.

Dean made a sound of frustration, carding a hand roughly through his hair.

“Oh, and what, break up the show?” he snarked. He waved haphazardly beyond you, to the moose of a man somewhere beyond the closed doors of the garage. Remembering his brother made Dean’s irritation start to fade, back into self-deprecation.

“You and Sam…you’ve got history,” he said. “He’s smart. He takes care of you, protects you. He’s uh, more the boyfriend type, anyway.”

Dean looked away from you then, crossing his arms. You relaxed yours and couldn’t help but draw near to him. A frown took over your features as you tilted your head.

“Okay, Sam and I have history,” you said with a nod. “But…you don’t think you’re smart too?”

Dean’s lips pursed somewhat as he glanced back up at you. You met his stare.

“You don’t think you’re capable of all those other things?” you asked.

Dean didn’t have an answer for you. At least, not one he was willing to say.

For the past few weeks, you’d been fighting with yourself. You’d turned that moment in the kitchen over and over in your mind, and why you couldn’t do what you were supposed to do.

Now, looking at Dean’s face, you understood why your heart broke for him. Why your heart ached with ridiculous longing for him in equal measure.

You knew then that he’d take care of you. That he’d protect you. And maybe…

“Sam and I don’t make a habit of going after the same girl,” Dean said. Even that, it seemed, was difficult for him to get out.

It broke you from your thoughts, again with your frown.

“Yeah?” you asked. A bit of your temper sparked once again. “Is that why you’re making me Yoko Ono? I’ll tell you something right now. You’re not John and Sam’s not Paul and I refuse to break up the band, Dean!”

“No one’s asking you to!” Dean said, finally raising his voice to match you.

He got off his seat and stood to his full height. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he still towered over you. You craned your head up to glare at him.

His green eyes were once again full of fire. You tried to resist it, but that look made a jolt of electricity zip down your spine, and between your legs.

“Oh, really?” you retorted. “That’s what you want? For me to forget you didn’t shake me the hell up?”

“Yeah, I really fucking would,” Dean gritted out. Even though his heart leapt at your admission, that he’d shaken you up at all.

“Why?” you said. “If you claim to care about me, why would you—”

“Why would you?” he shot back. He gestured at you with a dismissive hand. “The second you saw him, it was like your face lit the hell up. I’m not gonna get in his way. And by the time the you two were together, I just…I didn’t think you…”

Dean cut himself off, turning from you to wipe a frustrated hand over his mouth.

You watched him very closely, all while you made efforts to take in some deep, even breaths. You followed him, and more tentatively, you grabbed onto his wrist to tug him back around.

“Why would I what, Dean? You didn’t think I’d what?” you all but pleaded. Your grip lowered and tightened on his hand.

“Just talk to me,” you said. “Because this is your one and only chance.”

He was reluctant. For once, you could see it written all over his face. Or maybe you were just getting better at reading him.

“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it,” said Dean.

Liar.

He shook his head and slipped his hand out of yours.

“At the end of the day, you saw him, not me,” he said. “So go back upstairs, and we’ll never have to talk about this again.”

Your frown deepened as he sat back down and tried to turn away from you. You were so goddamn mad. At yourself, or at him, you didn’t know what percentages of each.

So you closed the distance between you and Dean and turned him back around, with a firm hand on his shoulder. Even with that small touch, your insides fluttered at the firm muscle there, and the broadness of his frame when he let you move him. He blew out an exasperated breath.

You wavered just slightly, as you contemplated the confession you were about to make. It shamed you, but at the same time, you were woman enough to admit your mistakes.

“I did see you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “But Sam never hesitated to show me what he wanted. And maybe…maybe he was safer. Familiar, and less dangerous.”

Dean’s brows furrowed, incredulous and confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

You couldn’t fault him for it. Your hand eased on his shoulder.

“Dean, seeing Sam again was like getting my best friend back,” you told him. “Back in college, we were thick as thieves. Me and Jess, Sam and Brady. And when you two found me to help with that case, I wouldn’t have ever seen him as anything more than my friend…until he did something about it.”

Your gaze was pointed. Dean’s lips pursed.

“When I met you,” you continued, “it was like the Godfather ‘thunderbolt.’ When you flirted with me, I didn’t know what to do with myself…whereas with Sam, I could fall back on my old habits.”

Dean’s face knitted further, making you sigh.

“With Sam, I’m the person I was when he knew me. The me that never faltered. That had all my shit together,” you said. Your small smile then was self-deprecating at best.

You felt vulnerable. Dean could see it in the way you held yourself. It was costing you something to be this honest, and that meant something to him. His face might've been stoic, but he was hanging on your every word.

“With you…with you I can’t hide," you said. Your voice was softer, slightly trembling. "And that terrifies me, more than monsters.”

Looking into Dean’s eyes again, you found him actually listening. He seemed to be digesting your words, and trying to make sense of them. You reached for him, clenching a hand in his shirt.

“So what was it that you thought I wouldn’t do?” you asked.

Dean studied your face a moment longer. He hesitated.

But he couldn’t keep lying to you either. What you’d just said gave him hope that he wasn’t about to fall flat on his face here.

With a deep, defeated breath, he shook his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

“I just got to thinkin’…” he said. “Why would you give up what you’ve got with him, for me?”

You didn’t know quite what to feel when you looked down at him. Disheartened, sympathetic, annoyed…but most of all, you felt your heart clench.

Your hands framing Dean’s face brought his eyes back to yours. You stepped in between his open legs.

“I’m going to try something. Just once,” you said, biting your lip. “And if it doesn’t work, we won’t speak of this again. Understand?”

A true smile finally twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“All right,” he agreed. You nodded.

Slowly, ever slowly, you leaned down and brushed your lips with his. It was chaste and sweet. Your hands were soft curving along his jawline. His hands found their way to your waist, molding to your shape. That steadied you, and encouraged you to dive back in.

You tilted your head and kissed him a bit deeper. He held you more securely against him, like he was afraid you were going to think better of this and pull away from him.

But you didn’t. His lips were soft and supple and knew how to move against yours. He soon guided you down for a seat on his strong thighs, even though the stool he was sitting on creaked at the added weight.

Then his tongue begged entrance past your lips. If this was his one chance, then damn it, he was going to make the most out of it.

You let him in with a moan. Your fingers tangled in his short hair, your nails dragging down the back of his neck and making a tendril of heat run down his spine. He squeezed your hips, down your thighs, while his lips continued to ravage yours.

It was one hell of a kiss.

But it wasn’t just lust either. At least, not for you. It was warmth, and an overwhelming feeling being right where you were always meant to be.

For Dean, it felt like a craving he wasn't meant to indulge in...but even so, having you in his arms felt as natural as he feared it would be. He didn't just want you. He wanted this. Today, and every day.

When his lips finally dragged away from yours, it took you a moment before you could even open your eyes, let alone catch your breath.

“Damn it,” you whispered.

Dean chuckled, and pulled back just far enough to graze your cheek with his curled fingers.

“Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. You smiled, but it soon fell.

“Oh God, Dean. What’re we gonna do?” you asked. Already there were tears stinging in your eyes. And still, you held him back with your arms curled around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Dean’s relief, and a hidden swell of happiness, also dimmed. “That ship’s sailed, sweetheart."

You sniffed, wiping at your face. “Don’t joke right now, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he said. He held you a fraction tighter. His deep voice rumbled, with desire, longing, and remorse all at once. “I’m actually serious beyond fucking belief.”

You saw everything you needed to see in his eyes. It gave you the strength to be honest.

“So am I,” you nodded, sniffling again. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother. I’ll do it.”

You stroked his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble against your fingers.

“Together, then,” you compromised.

And with an unsettled breath, you reluctantly detangled yourself from Dean. Before this went any further, you needed to talk to Sam. It was easily one of the hardest things you’d ever contemplated doing in your life.

Dean seemed to have similar thoughts as he let you up, then stood along with you. He dragged a hand through his hair again and heaved a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he said. His brows drew together as he considered every alternative reaction his brother might have. None of them were pretty.

You rested a hand on his arm.

“Look, Dean. If we’re going to do this…if I need to leave the bunker, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, as long as you’re in this with me,” you said.

Both your gaze and your will were unwavering. Dean didn’t doubt that you meant every word; that you were willing to jump into the fire with him. And that was just a small fraction of what had made him fall in love with you.

He took your hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“I’m with you,” he replied.

AN: So while it was painful to contemplate both of these scenarios, I hope I did them justice! 🥲

Which ending was your favorite: Sam, or Dean? 😘

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