Burning the Candle at Both Ends
Summary: Y/N finds herself insanely stressed with life at the moment. Between working on hunts and taking some local core classes, she finally has a break down. Lucky for her Dean is always there to make things better, and help her relieve some of that said stress.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: NSFW, intense stressful situations,some angst, mental break down, dry humping, smut
Word Count: 2,179
Request: This is a little stupid, but if you have time would you mind writing a Dean version of Stressed? If you can’t it’s ok.- @padfootserastartsnow
A/N: Thank @impala-dreamer for the beta read again you’re awesome. I like writing this stressed situation with Dean just to see how different Sam and Dean would react in situations like this. I hope y’all enjoy and feedback is always welcomed!
Your phone kept buzzing, your computer chimed, and your back was killing you. This was no way for a person to live their life. Even as a hunter, there was no way in hell you could take much more of this. You were taking lore classes at a local college, doing research, and you were still trying to hunt, all at the same time. Everything felt like it was crashing around you, it was all so overwhelming.
“Fuck this,” your leaned back in your chair in the library, “I can’t do this anymore.” Unshed tears threatened to escape your eyes as the words on the screen began to blur. You wanted to be strong, to bite this college stuff in the ass. You were a hunter, you’ve researched about stuff some people knew nothing about. But studying in the classes, worrying about MLA and APA formatting bullshit? Every ounce of your being was screaming at you to drop out and leave the normal life behind. You didn’t need to know all this useless information, that’s why hunters kept journals and relied on each other. At the same time however, you knew this was the right thing to do. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” The main door to the bunker opened with a sickening creak, followed by a slam. “What am I supposed to do!?” You screamed at the top of your lungs, flinging all your stuff off the table.