Pair: Dean x Reader (kind of) Warning: none Summary: Dean and the reader have an established relationship… as cuddle buddies.
A small whimper escaped your lips as you stretched your muscles out, waking up. The room was pitch black and cold; the only warmth you got was from the strong body next to you, holding you dangerously close.
Not ready to wake up yet, you turned over in Deans arms and nuzzled closer to him, resting your face in the crook of his neck; smiling when his arms wound tighter around your body. “Y/N” Dean whispered, lazily dragging his fingers over your skin, causing it to erupt in goosebumps. “Not ready yet” you croaked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual. “Okay” he whispered, back closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his.
You and Dean had been sleeping together for almost two months now. But that was it. You didn’t have sex or kiss or really do anything else, you just slept together. It all started one night, you two had fallen asleep together on the couch, watching some movie, and when you woke up you played it off as nothing until he told you it was the best sleep he had ever had in his life.
“C’mon, Y/n” Dean begged, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the couch. “Tell me that wasn’t the best sleep you’ve ever had” he pressed. “I’ve had… better” you mumbled, leaning back into the couch. “Y/nnnnnnnn” he taunted, knowing that you were lying through your teeth. “Fine! It was the best nap I have ever had, so what?! It’s weird, Dean. We aren’t sleeping together anymore.” But Dean being Dean means he usually gets what he wants, and that started your addiction for sleeping together.
“I can’t go on this hunt!” you sighed, plopping down in one of the chairs in front of Sam and Dean. “Why?!” Dean asked, looking baffled. “I think I have a-” you sneezed into the tissue in your hand. “a cold” you finished, sighing. You had a small fever and had been sneezing since you woke up. “Shit” Dean sighed, “alright, well, we’ll keep you updated. We should be home in a few days, it looks like a simple vamp nest.” Grabbing his bag, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Bye kid” Sam smiled, giving you a pat on the back as they walked out the door.
The first night was the worst night. You had grown so used to Dean’s warmth, no matter how many blankets you had nothing was ever enough. It had taken a strong dose of NyQuil and some Tylenol PM to put you to sleep; even then, it was a pretty rough sleep. You woke up early, before the sun had even come up and texted Dean I didn’t sleep for shit last night, come home. To which he responded: Me either. We’re working on it, sweetheart. Should be home in the next few days. Just hold out for me.
You had spent the most of that day soaking in a bath and eating tomato soup. You made sure that you staying in your actual room, not wanting to take the risk and exposing Dean’s room with your germs.
The next day, you were really spent. You had no energy to do anything, so you just took your medicine and watched movies in and out of consciousness. Sam and Dean had both left you a few voicemails, telling you how the case was going and just keeping you updated which you greatly appreciated.
By the fifth day, you felt better, having read that if you cut up white onions and place it around the home, especially in the room of the sick person they somehow absorb the bacteria and viruses and rid you of your cold.
Even though you had been feeling better, you still were exhausted. You had no idea how awful sleeping was without Dean there to keep you warm and safe. Sitting in the library, you were reading a few lore books you had found in the basement of the bunker when they brothers walked in. “Y/N” Deans voice called out for you as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor. “Yeah?” you asked, stepping out of the library and looking at him. “My room. Now, we’re taking a nap” his tone was so assertive and demanding, it turned you on a little bit. “What was that about?” you asked Sam as Dean had disappeared down the hallway. “He hasn’t slept since we left,” Sam chuckled, winking at you. Rolling your eyes, you followed Dean down the hall and into his room.
It was dark, just how the both of you needed it to be. Slipping your jeans and bra off, you climbed into bed with dean and softly moaned at the feeling of his arms around your waist. “Fuck, I missed you” you whispered, cuddling your head into his chest. “I missed you too, sweetheart” Dean sighed, running his fingers through your hair, basking in the feeling of you back in his arms.
Requested by anon:#7 Angst and #9 smut w/ Dean Winchester, please. -Anon♒️
7- “What you did was stupid and dangerous and scared the hell out of me.”
9- “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”
Genre: Angst and Smut
Word Count: 1068
Warnings: Profanity and sex
Written by Admin Tao
The house shook as Dean slammed the door shut behind him. Saying he was mad would be a huge understatement, he was beyond pissed. How could he not be you had straight up disobeyed his command to stay away from Lucifer. Instead of staying at the house out of harms way, you decided to go and try to talk to Lucifer even if it was against Dean’s wishes.
“Dean, please talk to me.” You lightly grabbed his wrist before he had the opportunity to walk away. He stopped immediately in his tracks at the feeling of your hand around his wrist. He slowly turned around, looking at you with his glossy brown eyes.
“What the hell do you want me to say?” He yelled in a harsh tone. “What you did was stupid and dangerous and scared the hell out of me.” His voice sounded slightly strained and you could see that a few tears already made their way down his face. You stood in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked at you with his glossy brown orbs before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you or make you worry. I just thought that maybe, I could help you and Sam get Castiel back by talking to Lucifer.” You told him while trying your best to avoid eye contact with him.
“I know and I appreciate the effort but I wish you would have listen to me. The reason I didn’t want your help was because I knew the Lucifer would try to deceive you.” Dean hooked his finger under your chin and lifted your face up. “Promise me one thing, please never do anything like that again. If me and Sam didn’t show up who know what Lucifer would have done to you.” He gently ran the back of his hand over your cheek.
“I promise.” You softly whispered before placing a soft kiss to his lips. He moved his hand to your waist as he captured your lips into a feverish kiss. You lips molded together perfectly as you two stumped backwards, your back soon hitting the cold wall. Dean placed his hand to the side of your head and his other hand made its way to your waist. A quiet breathy moan left you lip as soon as his mouth found its way to your sweet spot. He bit and sucked at your neck decorating your exposed flesh in little purple marks.
“Come on, follow me.” He softly whispered in your ear. You laced you fingers with his and eagerly followed him to his room. He swung the door open, quickly pulling you inside and following closely behind you before slamming the door shut. You shot him a smirk as you made your way to the bed, seductively removing your clothing before crawling to the middle of the mattress. He licked his lips as he eyed your naked from sprawled out on the bed.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking or are you going to come over here and fuck me?” Without giving your words a second thought Dean made his way over to you, discarding the thin fabrics off of his body.
“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He said as he crawled on top of your naked frame. Your face heated up at the sweet but dominant tone in his voice. He placed his warm lips against your neck, slowly making his way down to your breast. You laced your fingers in his dirty blonde hair, tugging at it slightly as he attached his mouth to your hardened bud. He placed his free hand on your other boob, kneading and squeezing your sensitive flesh. A string of soft moans fell from your mouth as he swirled his tongue around your nipple.
“Dean, I need you, like now.” He smirked and detached his mouth from your body.
“Aw~ is my babygirl needy?” You rapidly shook your head letting him know that you didn’t want to wait a second longer for him. A smirk quickly made its way to his face at your eagerness. He placed himself so that he was hovering over your body, placing his hands on either side of your head before positioning himself at your entrance.
“Are you ready?” He asked in a sweet tone letting his previous cocky demeanor vanish. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a loving kiss to his soft lips.
“Yes.” You murmured against his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly pushed his thick length into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he waited, giving you a second to adjust before setting a slow pace. You soon felt your walls adjust to the stretch and the pain of it melt into pleasure as he continued slowly rocking his hips against yours.
“Ah god, Dean..” You clawed at his back, more breathless moans falling off your lips. You gasped and arched your back as Dean pounded into you, moving his hips up just enough to graze against your g-spot. He bit down on you shoulder and let out a muffled moan as you clenched tightly around him.
“Goddamnit if you keep doing that I probably won’t be able to hold out for much longer.” He mumbled against your skin. You let you head fall back against the plush pillow and arched your back, your hips meeting his as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. With a few more sharp thrust of his hips, the knot that had been building up come undone. You yelled out, your vision going blurry and your head spinning as your orgasm took over your body. Your orgasm was enough to push Dean to his own. He slowed his pace, riding out his orgasm before pulling out and collapsed beside you.
“Do you want to go get cleaned up? I’m pretty sure that Sam and Bobby will be back soon.” You rolled to your side and snuggled into his chest. He smiled and kissed the top of your head before wrapping his arm around you.
“Not yet, I want to lay here a little while long and enjoy our time alone.” You looked up at him, giving him a sweet smile.
Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?
A/N: I’m a sucker for these “fake relationship” stories ;))
Y/N pulls the phone from her ear, her frustration drawn out in the creases in her brow.
“Well?” Dean asks, sat opposite her at the library table. Before him lies an open lore book, on a page about Nordic gods and how to kill them, and his cup of coffee sits dangerously close to the irreplaceable relic. With Sam out doing some shopping, it’s just the two of them at home, trying to dig up some info that might be useful for future use.
Pinching her brow, the young girl shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“Yes.” She says, trying to sound convincing, but its of no use, because the elder Winchester has known her long enough to see past her facades.
Living together for nearly five years now, calling her his best-friend even feels like an understatement. They got to know each other a while back through a hunt involving a Tulpa in California; Y/N’s kill, but the boy’s happened to jump in on it and help out. Surprise surprise: a friendship sparked, and ever since then, the relationship has flourished greatly.
To Dean, Y/N is family, just like Cas or Charlie or any of the other members of their little rehabilitation program they’ve picked up over the years. And with that, he knows—well enough—that despite her efforts to dismiss it, something is nudging at her mind.
“Obviously not. You seem like you’re about to explode. What is it?” He shuts the book and leans forward. Y/N still looks exasperated; still tries to act like she isn’t, and fails terribly. When she finally lifts her gaze, her expression is that of defeat.
“It’s my sister.” She says mournfully. “She’s calling me about her wedding coming up this month, and wants to know if I’ve been signed up to the family news letter that allows me to see all the updates on things like which floral arrangement we’re going to have. Surprise surprise—I’m not.”
“Damn.” Dean says plainly, still not seeing the reason behind her chagrin. Y/N rolls her eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but the smile that she suppresses says otherwise.
A sardonic laugh escapes her. “Yeah, damn indeed.” She rises from her seat, downing her coffee. Dean glances at his, then stretches it across to her. She finishes it in a single glug.
“So….what now?” He leans back in the chair. “You don’t know the floral arrangements? Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I don’t know anything about this wedding, Dean. I don’t know where it’s gonna be, I don’t know who’s gonna be there, and—until I few seconds ago—I didn’t know I’m going to have to be in Boston next week. S/P/N mentioned it in the newsletter but….” Her voice drifts off and she folds her lips into a straight-line, shrugging.
“What’s in Boston?”
“The wedding, apparently. Who even gets married in Boston? Yuck.” Y/N scowls.
“Your sister, apparently.” He almost rolls his eyes. “Right, so…go to Boston. Show up for the rehearsal, see your family, have fun, and then get back here once everything’s done.”
Dean explains it like it’s so easy. To him, it is. Wedding prepping can’t take more than three weeks, can it….? He wouldn’t know. He’s never had the chance to even be part of a wedding, but he assumes that that’s an appropriate estimate.
But, from the way Y/N bites her lip and averts her gaze to the floor, a look teetering between guilt and embarrassment on her face, maybe he’s wrong.
“Yeaahhh….” She draws out, skeptically. “Uhm…about that. It’s not as easy as it sounds…”
“Uhm…?” He quirks an inquisitive brow.
“I…sorta…told them that I have a date to the wedding and,…” Y/N gestures in the air, but doesn’t finish her sentence.
Dean watches her with a knitted brow, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come, until realizations strikes. His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o”.
“Yeah…” Her cheeks are dusted with a feint blush and she looks away.
Dean doesn’t want to say it, but he can’t help but think how cute it is—really cute. The only thing that can compete, he thinks, is the way her eyes disappear into her cheeks when she smiles.
As embarrassing as it is, he has almost an entire list like that about Y/N; things he thinks are adorable about her, things like her laugh, to he way she’s so awkward around big crowds, or how she has an undeniable obsession with space. Little things. Cute things. It goes on and on, infinite and growing each day, the more and more he gets to know her…but he’ll never admit that.
Because he can’t.
Because Y/N is family, and she’s just a friend.
“Well…is it like a must to bring one along? You could always just tell your family that you guys…broke up? Maybe he cheated. Maybe the love fizzled out.” Dean offers, shrugging.
Y/N looks at him with an un-amused expression. “Great thing to mention right before a wedding.”
“God, I don’t know.” Getting up from his seat, he rolls his eyes. He shuts the book and a gust if dust billows from it, then fixes it under his arm.“You’ll figure it out. It’s you.”
Y/N doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she looks to the floor, arms crossed over her chest.“Well,…there is something I thought about doing, but—God, I don’t know. What if, like—” She finally looks up.
Dean waits for the bombshell he knows she’s about to drop with a cautious, furrowed brow,
“—I asked Sam?” She finishes, her expression hopeful; her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s squinting slightly. The elder Winchester feels the wind get knocked out of him at hearing this.
His eyes widen. “Sam?”
“Not to actually be my date!—just to fool my family for the two weeks. Do you think he’ll go along with it?”
“I don’t get it—why don’t you just—“
“I can’t tell them I don’t have a date, because I already told them that I do. Going back on my word now will just make me look ridiculous, Dean. Just…”Y/N sighs and shuts her eyes. Dean can read the desperation in her features. He bites his lip, contemplating Y/N’s offer.
Sam, going on a date with Y/N. The idea is so ludicrous, so unbelievable that it sounds completely silly, like imagining pigs fly or anything of the nature. He can’t bring himself to even picture the two of them together, but…
He then feels something stir in his gut at the thought, a warmth, a….jealousy?No. Hopefully not. It’s been ages since these feelings have managed to surface. Now is not the time for a return. The elder Winchester quickly suffocates the feeling and averts his attention back onto his friend.
Before him she stands, imploring y/e/c eyes, a sweet smile stretched across her face and hands clasped together. She looks like a little girl, so young, so desperate. The elder Winchester doesn’t want to say no. Even if he did—with puppy eyes like those—how can you?
“So you have to have a date to this wedding?”
Dean thinks for a moment, raking his eyes over Y/N’s face that speaks mountains of uncertainty.
“You think he’ll say no, huh?”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?” Confusion floods the young girls face as she unclasps her hands. They fall to her side. Dean gulps trying to level his voice to a more confident tone.
“I’ll be your date to your sister’s wedding.” He repeats, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. His hands go cold, throat tightening.
Y/N’s face speaks volumes of surprise. “You’d…do that?”
“You’ll really do this?” She asks eyes wide. “A whole two weeks in Boston? With my family?”
Dean shrugs. For some wild reason, his heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweating, and he tries to stave off all the anxiety that begins to bubble within his gut. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Dean,” Y/N’s voice is stern all of a sudden. You can tell that she’s just as taken aback by the proposal as he is, but is trying not to show it. “If you say yes to this, I don’t want you to half-ass it? This is a real big deal for me, you know?”
“Look, do you want a date to this wedding or not?”
Y/N then bites her lip, contemplating. The elder Winchester’s eyes never leave her as he watches, waiting for response, until she finally agrees.
“Okay.” She says. A small smile then twitches on her lips, and Dean can see she’s trying to suppress.
“ Okay. Awesome. I’m gonna call S/P/N and see if there’s anything more I need to know yeah?” She asks. He nods.
“Sure.” Dean says. “It’s fine with me.”
“Mhm.” He knows he is, because the smile that breaks through Y/N’s authoritative face then is something definitely worth the decision. Her cheeks indented with dimples, she smiles, shaking her head, and then walks out to make the call. On the way out, she makes sure she butts her shoulder into his, just for fun. Dean lets out a nervous chuckle.
She’s gone. The empty library is silent, and that’s when his heart starts to thud.
Over and over, like a vicious doldrums. The silence only accentuates the sound of his rapid heartbeat, as the elder Winchester allows in a deep breath. His eyes flutter shut, and the anxiety begins to melt away gradually.
Summary: The reader stumbles upon Dean’s biggest secret. Dean’s not happy about it. He thinks…
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester
Word count: 500 (look at me, I can drabble!)
Warnings: Uh, language, I guess. And so much fluff, guys. So much fluff.
Author’s Notes: This is my sumbission for @trexrambling Daring Drabbles. My dear Jess, congratulations on your milestone and thank you so much for letting me participate (see how I was on schedule this time, even I can’t believe it lol.)
Special thank you to my wonderful twin @ravengirl94 for helping me figure out what I wanted to do with this. I wouldn’t have come up with this story if it weren’t for her (shocking, I know).
My prompt for this was the world “befuddled” and has been inserted into the fic.
Dean keeps a
picture of you in his wallet.
It’s an old photograph,
a fading reminder of all those mornings you’d spend at Bobby’s back yard, back
when the world wasn’t such a complicated place.
Sunshine sweeps over your face while you’re sitting on the hood
of the Impala, mug of coffee in hand, laughing at something Dean’s said. It’s loud and warm, a real laugh that makes
your eyes crinkle and shine, and you wonder if you can still laugh
like that after everything you’ve been through.
Summary: The reader wakes up during a hunt one morning with a strange new ability. She can read Dean’s mind. As she discovers some secrets about him, she tries to get herself back to normal without him realizing what’s happening…
“Hey, Dean. Have you seen,” Sam started, but promptly started choking as Dean walked by him.
“Dude. You smell like sex. You didn’t bring a random girl back to the bunker, did you?” Sam pleaded, trying desperately not to cover his nose.
“Not random. Nope,” Dean responded as he crossed the kitchen.
“Speaking of girls, you seen Y/N? She didn’t sleep in her room last night. She must’ve been enjoying her unattached drifter Christmas too,” Sam chuckled.
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam before answering. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. And she most certainly was,” Dean smirked to himself, heading for the coffee.
“Man. You didn’t?” Sam asked.
“Oh I did. Have you seen that girl? I’m pretty sure I love her,” Dean confessed.
“Love?” Sam scoffed.
“What?” Dean shrugged, reaching for the coffee pot.
Just then you stepped into the doorway in nothing but one of Dean’s button ups.
“Mornin’,” you yawned, stretching your hands above your head.
Dean turned to look at you at the same time Sam lifted is head.
“Damn,” they both muttered.
Dean glared at Sam again before setting down his coffee and closing the gap between you.
“You look beautiful in that,” Dean said, grabbing his shirt and yanking you against him roughly. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless.
“I’m out of here,” Sam mumbled, slipping out the door.
You laughed and looked at Dean. “You’re all about those chick flick moments aren’t you Dean?” you teased as you held him close to you.
“Only when it comes to you, princess,” he confessed, looking into your eyes.
You held his gaze for a moment before he spoke again.
“Only me huh?” you retorted.
“I can’t help it if I’m a hopeless romantic,” Dean shrugged.
“Prove it,” you challenged.
Dean practically growled as he hoisted you up, causing you to squeal and wrap your legs around his waist.
“Thought I did a pretty good job proving it last night, Y/N,” he rumbled, nipping at your neck as he pushed you against the wall. “But I’ve got no problem proving I love you again,” he whispered, his lips finding yours again.
You gasped at his words, but his lips swallowed yours before you could respond.
“No more unattached drifter Christmas?” you mocked as Dean carried you down the hall.
Dean chuckled, low in his throat.
“Only if it’s with you,” he growled, kicking his bedroom door shut and tossing you on the bed.
“Deal,” you agreed as he crawled over you once more, a look of love and devotion crossing his face that you had missed last night.
As Dean’s lips met yours tenderly, you couldn’t help but think maybe he really did love you.
Imagine coming out as bisexual to the boys and Cas getting confused.
Chill, Y/n, chill, damnit! Racing thoughts. Pounding heart. Sweaty hands. Why was saying three little words so hard? This was surely enough to send you to an early grave.
No doubt about it, Sam and Dean loved you, but worry struck when the realization of who you were could change that. Honestly, though, it was (and still is) the 21st century. People are changing the norms of society. Get over it…but Sam and Dean were old school. They weren’t up to date with today’s culture.
“Hey, Y/n, snap out of it,” Dean laughed. “Lost you there for a minute. You okay?”
You managed a nod. A streak of courage ran through you less than a second ago, forcing you into the kitchen where the brothers sat saying, “We need to talk.” Now, those golden balls were shriveled up.
“Jesus, you’re pale as a ghost!” Sam exclaimed before shoving you into a seat. “Kiddo, what did you want to talk about?”
Well, screw it. This was your shot. As the Roman poet, Horace, said, “Carpe diem.” As your chest rose with a shaky breath, you closed your eyes. “I-I’m bisexual..” Expecting a horrible response, your eyebrows squinted down to your eyelids, but nothing happened.
“Really?” Dean laughed. “That’s what this is about?”
You nodded. “Why aren’t you guys freaking out? I thought-”
“Bisexual?” Castiel interrupted. “Bi means two. Sexual meaning intimacy. So…two partners at once?”
A loud smack sounded off the walls as Dean face palmed. “It means a person will date a female or male, Cas.”
The poor angel only cocked his head to the side. “And this is a big deal?”
“No,” Sam shook his head, “not to us.”
“Y/n,” Dean started, “look, this isn’t going to change how we see you. It’s just going to change the fact that now I’ll be seeing girlfriends and boyfriends.”
After a bit of silence from Castiel, he began to nod to himself. “Humans need to be loved…so I will find you a lover.”
“What? No, Cas, I’m-”
“What about the redhead, Charlie?”
The mention of her name sent your cheeks up into flames. “No!”
“The boy that delivered the pizza?”
“Oh dear god, no!”
“I am Castiel…You have me mistaken for my father.”
Soft, pleading eyes fluttered to the Winchesters for help but two bright smiles met them. “We’re proud of you, kiddo,” Sam smiled.
Summary: Dean doesn’t know how or why he fell in love with her. But he does know one thing. It all started with a flannel…
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned)
Word count: 3977 (totally worth it, I promise)
Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some language. Implied smut. Death of a loved one, mentions of blood and references to grief.
Author’s Notes: This is my very late submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats‘ AU & Things Challenge. Michelle, I can’t even thank you enough for being so patient with me about this. I fell so in love with the story and wanted to do it justice.
Special thank you to twin @ravengirl94 for reading parts of it over for me and listening to me whine, I don’t know what I’d do without her.
My prompt for this was flannel (obviously, lol) and you’ll see what I did with it in the text *winks* Also, this fic was loosely inspired by Ed Sheeran’s How Would You Feel (You need to listen to that, btw, his new album is amazeballs)
Thank you for all of your love and support. Enjoy <3
The first time
Dean sees her in one of his flannels, it’s after a wendigo hunt.
creeping its way into his life again, its tawny leaves and withered hedges
painting the scene in golden colors and, even though he rarely takes the time to
appreciate things like these anymore, he stops for a second and breathes it all
in, the crispiness and the rustles and the shadows of change.
And then, she
swims into view.
She’s sitting on
the hood of a Bronco in Bobby’s scrap yard, fallen leaves dancing at her feet,
as she stares straight ahead, at the sky that’s turning to orange, and smiles.
And he doesn’t
notice at first, but there’s something familiar there, in the red
and white fabric that wraps around her, in the way the garment dwarfs
her, in the rolled-up sleeves and the hem that reaches her mid-thigh and he realizes
that it’s his clothes she’s wearing.
The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding,
considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her;
will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will
his feelings get the best of him?
Word count: almost 4k
A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3
Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk
morning, the sunlight raining down and painting Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen
leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is
spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.
“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks
as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick
“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any
of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the
houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to
persuade him, he’s still settled on
wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is
adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused,
but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.
Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.”
He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right
now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family
“We talked about this already last night.” The elder
“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace
is a must, and—“
“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all
of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a
turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo
teenagers walking to school (way too late).
“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also,
be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”
“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave
his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.
They had; at the
birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip
down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided
extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.
“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….”
She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a
second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend.
There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”
“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”
“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises
her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”
The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes
“Shut up, Sam.”
The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his
phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”
“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the
backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway.
I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of
friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks
him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told
him that we want him to come with.”
“And he said no?”
Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends
there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes
the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.
Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood
escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very
busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where
their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between.
Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she
encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.
So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts
more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before
she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the
rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away
from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s
She chose this life.
She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky
is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she
believes that they boys are anything but her family.
Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding
road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings
scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and
the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as
Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is
painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The
traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the
hotel in time.
In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then,
heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.
His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes
the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous.
One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety.
“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her
hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot. “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are
like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”
“Not supposed to.”
“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean
remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very
evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however,
Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the
color drain from her face.
The contact is warm,
assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine,
palms pressed flat.
“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t
hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter
one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.
They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding
her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a
vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely
grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like
everything that it’s not supposed to.
Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her
hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna
Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been
diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to
reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean
is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She
quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a
strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the
Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.
She turns. “Huh?”
“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N
stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking
at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those
funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the
heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off
“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack
from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.
“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering
above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s
years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along
the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the
“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend
instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic
cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.
Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”
“The reception’s over there.”
Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd,
the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them.
She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and
her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and
in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed
to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean
decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.
They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between
them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the
high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the
crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field,
the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean
ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit
disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on
the man before her.
“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back
in his seat.
Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer
is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t
hurt. Not around my parents though.”
“Not around your mum…?”
“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes
you look delinquent.”
Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various
questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one
end to another like a ball in a tennis court.
“Can I drink?”
Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She
says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question
“But if I had to?“
“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh. Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief
but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face. Moments later, the table has quieted for some
reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that
look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or
even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and
he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally
“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What
about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we
say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”
matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber
of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already
know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with
my other relatives.”
“So we lie?”
She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem
lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on
vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”
“Where was our vacation to?”
“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”
Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following
here. It’s your plan.”
“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”
“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles
and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I
nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car
and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit
managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me
Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth
quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad
Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair.
“Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”
“Vacation it is.”
A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in
the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only
indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her
“You guys aren’t eating?” He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby.
He sits and turns to Dean.
“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s
Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because
they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach
reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly
shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.
“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with
pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter,
clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.
“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter
begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter
escape him, and he lifts his hand.
“Waiter.”He calls. A
few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier
turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over,
a polite smile on his face.
“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.
“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her
attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink
spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for
stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.
They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their
rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they
are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving
when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.
“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate
and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little
trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles
practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.
“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean
Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to
fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath
his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled,
she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her
“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble
and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.
Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he
quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored
skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if
she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting
her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As
if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.
She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the
marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped
scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a
rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for
dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the
pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come,
can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.
This life has left
her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter,
a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has
managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that
separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl
couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had
definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.
She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it
shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the
tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying
something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment,
until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her
It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and
his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had
been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away
from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the
tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it
had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.
It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her
“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.
The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing
the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen;
she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.
Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure,
taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks
stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s
Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is
a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant
green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and
his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently
there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a
“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.
Y/N looks back up to
his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles,
clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were
Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped
and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar
on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get
going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”
“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get
“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”
“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her
satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him.
“There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for
these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”
“We already do, though.” He defends.
“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”
“Mega chemistry, huh?”
“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God,
did she really just say that?
But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to
and he shakes his head. “Dork.”
Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the
knob when Dean cuts in.
“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.
The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the
door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her
what’s the time or how she is.
“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.
Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that
mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”
She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion,
like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and
fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a
satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.
Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her
as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the
hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the
wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their
A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”
“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down
the strip of corridor. Y/N is trying to
mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even
here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked
up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this
wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she
wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?
But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes
them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean
talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they
walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are
set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the
ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently
off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her
dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.
Y/N notices her mother first.
Her hair is an ashy
blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s
smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or
three people are strangers to her.
Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter
in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost,
and Y/N meets his gaze.
“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.
His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”
If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and
looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when
S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress,
she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.
Summary: Dean Winchester didn’t know what having a home felt like. Not until he met her, anyway.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester (briefly)
Word count: 1418
Warnings: This is pure, unadulterated fluff (with tiny, light references to sex because Dean can’t help himself, okay?)
Author’s Note: This is my submission for @atari-writes‘ Birthday Challenge. Amber, thank you so, so much for letting me participate and granting me an extension for this. I’m glad I took my time with it because I kind of love how it turned out.
My prompt for this were “I hate to see you leave but love to watch you go. ‘Cause of your butt.” from The Office and “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep
like this…” from Parks And Recreation.
Dean isn’t sure he
knows what having a home feels like.
He remembers he
used to have one, of course, back when the monsters and the demons weren’t a
part of his life, but that was ruined the moment they killed
his mother and burned his childhood to the ground, and he’s certain that he
wouldn’t want to go back, even if he could.
He never settled
after that, never stayed in one place long enough to call it home, but that doesn’t matter anyway, because, to him, home isn’t really a place. He has heard the sayings, after
all, knows that, for most people, home is
where the heart is.
thing though; Dean is not most people and he doesn’t believe love’s something that can
be measured.His heart, he
knows, is not at one place; it’s
strapped to his brother’s existence, but there are parts of it, bloody and
weathered, that have stayed with his parents, and others that belong to the
friends he’s come to consider family, both the ones he’s lost and the ones that
are still around.
So, yeah, perhaps
Dean has many homes but it never feels like it, never feels like he truly belongs somewhere other than the Impala.
There, holding the steering wheel, with the scent of leather and whiskey and
dry blood filling his senses and a classic rock song blasting through the speakers,
he feels free.
And yet, there’s something
He can feel it in
moments like this, moments when he’s returning back to the bunker with his brother
after a fun night out because everything around him is still and nobody needs
saving, and he wants to feel happy, wants to feel content and at peace, but he can’t.
And then, he sees
asleep on the sofa, dressed in that ridiculous cable-knit cardigan of his that
she seems to love, the book she’d been reading for the past few weeks still in
her hand and she’s so beautiful and
stunningly innocent in that moment, so vulnerable and strong all at once, that he
can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.
disgustingly in love with her.” Sam announces, barely
able to contain his amusement when the tips of his brother’s ears flush pink. “You
know that, right?”