You Understand, Right?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby, John

Length: 1663+ words

TW: Suicide [gunshot to the head]. Depression. Abandonment. Dean being a jerk. 

A/N: Another word vomit that I did when I couldn’t sleep last week. I just had the idea in my head for the whole night, and I knew if I didn’t write it down, I wouldn’t be able to remember it the next morning. So, here it is! Feedback is encouraged!

SERIES MASTERLIST


The thing about the Winchester family was that they collect family like one would collect dolls. They have a lot of family around the State, any of them willing to do anything for the brothers. They always had a saying. 

Family doesn’t end in blood.

Except it does. They can say it as many times as they want, but there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for the family. Their blood family. 

You were 4 when you were collected by John, and shipped off to Bobby’s. You were basically raised alongside the brothers from then on. Sam being a year older than you, and his brother, Dean, being 5 years older than you.

You were 5 when Dean ran out of breakfast. Bobby, and John were gone on a hunt, leaving 10 year-old Dean in charge. There was half a single granola bar left, and he looked uneasily between you and Sam, both of you had complained about being hungry. He gave you a strange look, and even though you were 5, you knew what it meant. Afterall, John gave you the same look when he told you why you can’t come home to your parents. It was also the same look that Bobby gave you when you asked about your parents. The look of guilt. You turned away, not being able to handle the fact that his decision had already been made when he was 4, and the responsibility of Sam’s livelihood was thrusted into his hands.

“Not hungry,” you mumbled, despite your roaring stomach. Sam’s eyes lit up with glee as he snatched the snack from his brother’s hand, and you can see Dean’s face visibly relax.

“Sammy’s my responsibility. You understand, right?” Dean asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

You gave him a nod, hopping off the chair, and went back to your bed, hoping you can sleep away the hunger. 

Keep reading

Request: Storm

Request: Can you write one where the reader breaks down to Bobby because she is pregnant with Dean’s baby. Thank you :)

Word Count: 1,069

<3

The rain has been coming down in buckets all night, and the wind whips at the sides of the house in such a way that every now and again, the foundations shake so severely that Bobby nearly ends up waiting out the storm in the panic room.

When he sees the flash of light outside the window followed by a rumble, he isn’t paying enough attention to think of it as anything but another facet of the storm. What he does pay attention to, however, is the frantic, loud knocking that reverberates well beyond the door.

The knocking doesn’t stop until he answers, pulling the door open to be bet with a harsh gust of wind.

“Y/N?” You’re soaked and dishevelled, and he isn’t sure which has smeared your makeup more – the rain, or the tears you’re trying and failing to hold back.

“Can- can I come in?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing your fuzzy, addled brain can come up with. Bobby doesn’t speak, but he nods, ushering you into the warmth of the house where you grew up and forcing the door closed against the wind.

“What the hell are you doing out in this?” Driving in this weather would be dangerous enough without you being in a complete state. You don’t reply, though, shivering in the hallway and wiping at your face in frustration. It scares him – you’re the closest thing he has to family: he’d raised you since you were six months old and your parents had been killed, leaving no-one to keep an eye on their demon-blood infected child. He’d taken you in, and found that he’d quickly become all too fond of you.

“Y/N, seriously. Where are Sam and Dean?” It must be something to do with them, because it elicits a sob from you, “I don’t want to play twenty questions with you.” He steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders and pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead, “Give yourself some time, alright? Go get a shower, get changed. Everything’s fine. Nothing is going to hurt you while you’re here. I’ll make you a hot chocolate while you’re gone, just how you like it. How does that sound?”

To his eternal relief, that manages to get a nod and a weak smile from you, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before letting you go. He doesn’t look away from you until you’re safely up the stairs, and then sighs to himself – he’s never seen you like this. But you need him, and he’ll be damned if you’re not going to have him to go to.

***

It’s nearly half an hour before he hears you coming down the stairs, but there’s nothing wrong with that – especially when he sees how much better you’re looking. Sure, your eyes are still red-rimmed and you’re still shaking with the effort it takes not to cry, but at least your clothes are warm and dry and your lips are no longer bluish with the cold.

You shuffle into the room and take a seat, swallowing hard before looking up at Bobby. He sets the hot chocolate – piled high with cream, chocolate shavings, and marshmallows – in front of you, and then takes the seat next to yours. The storm outside still batters the windows, but the kitchen is warm, and with the pair of you bathed in warm light, it’s almost cosy.

“Talk to me.” Bobby prompts softly, reaching over and resting his hand over the top of yours. He sees the way you flinch at the gesture, and for a moment he thinks the worst, “Is it Dean? Has he hurt you?” He hadn’t been overly happy when you’d begun dating the eldest Winchester two and a half years ago, but you’d been happy, and Dean had given him a heartfelt promise that his intentions were pure – but Bobby had promised in return that the moment Dean so much as breathed the wrong way at you, he’d find himself without the means to do so again.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me if you want to fix this.”

“I can’t fix it.” You speak properly for the first time since you stepped into the house, “It’s broken. Very broken.”

“Still with the ambiguous, sweetheart.”

It takes you a few moments to muster up the courage to come out with it, but eventually, you do.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence, apart from the sounds of the storm outside, fills the room. For a long moment, he can’t find it in himself to speak – and then…

“Do not drink that.” He wraps his spare hand around the mug and slides it away from you, reminded suddenly of the copious amount of whiskey he just dropped into that, “Is it… it’s Dean’s?”

You scoff, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Of course it is.” Sorrow and bitterness taint your tone in equal measure, and Bobby winces.

“Have you told him?” He tries, and you nod again.

“Yeah. That’s what the second problem is.” You sigh, pulling your hand away from his in order to run your hands over your face, skilfully masking a sob – but not enough. Bobby knows you inside and out, and picks up on it instantly.

“He reacted badly?”

“If saying I’d ruined everything and needed to get the hell out of his sight is reacting badly, then I’d say so, yeah.” You spit, but your voice breaks and before you know it, your head is on his shoulder and you’re sobbing openly into him, everything coming out. He holds onto you tightly, a silent promise that he’ll never let you go; that you always have him.

***

It’s nearly three hours later, by the time he’s managed to calm you down and get you asleep. You’re still asleep on the sofa when his phone rings. He answers, begrudgingly, when he realises who it is.

“Dean?”

“Bobby? Have you heard from Y/N? She’s gone and we’ve been trying to track her all night, but we haven’t found anything.” He rattles off, his voice frantic and shaking.

“Why? What happened?” Bobby asks, watching you sleeping form.

“We got in a fight. I said something stupid. God, Bobby, I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, and swallows hard, “Have you heard from her?”

He pauses, “Nope. Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

I Think I Wanna Marry You...

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: none.

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

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.”


“Ya’ sure?”


“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”.


“Ohhh.”


“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.”


“Dean…”


“Yeah?”


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…


Still.


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?”


“I do.”


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?”


Another nod.


“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.”


“Sure?”


“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.


This is gonna be a hell of a wedding.


                                                  ~*~*~*~

Part 2

I’ve been in my feelings for Dean for the past few weeks so bear with me pls. Also, I’m very excited for this story; more chapters to come, hopefully soon.

As always, likes, re blogs and general feedback is greatly appreciated!

Confessions

“You’re a good guy.” You whispered into the darkness. Dean lay on his own bed, just a few feet to your right. Sam’s snoring filled the silence while you waited for Dean to respond.

“You always say that.” He whispered back, his voice was raspy and aching for a good night’s sleep that you knew neither of you would receive tonight.

You pulled the blanket up higher up over your chest. The sheets scratched against your ass; once again you forgot to pack sweat pants.

“I always mean it.”

“Huh.” He muttered in response. You heard him flip sides. Was he facing you? You couldn’t see.

Regardless, you turned from your back onto your side, to face him.

“Dean?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever…feel lonely?” You asked. After two in the morning, you found that more often than not, your filter seemed to leave.

After a beat of silence he responded, “Most of the time.”

“What about the other times? What helps you get through them?” You hadn’t realized that your grip around the blanket tightened.

His breathing was even. Dean always breathed deeply, you noticed.

“You.” The word slipped out from between his lips so quietly you almost misheard, until he repeated, “You do.”

After hearing that, you weren’t sure if you allowed seconds to tick by, or minutes. Years worth of tension just released itself between these shitty motel walls. You kicked the blanket down to your ankles before quietly stepping out from your bed.

“Move over.” You gripped his shoulder beneath your fingers. He did as he was told and you crawled under his sheets. He didn’t touch you until you pressed your forehead against his chest. His t-shirt smelled like him, and you nuzzled yourself even closer.

“Do you love me?” You asked suddenly, and Dean lifted his leg over your own. In his own way, that was an answer. Laying there intertwined, you allowed yourself to savor the moment of feeling completely whole in his arms until repeating your question.

It felt as if nothing before this moment had ever existed, even though you had never even been this physically close to him.

Hugs, of course.

Kisses on the forehead, always.

But something was different now; suddenly you became more than just his best friend.

“Yes.” He answered, his lips ghosting over your head. “So fucking much.” His voice was shaking as he said it. You raised your hand to plant it firmly on his jaw. You traced circles over his temple and down to his ear.

“Why have you never told me?” You asked.

He gripped your head in his hand. “I never knew what you thought of me.”

“What I think of you?” You said more to yourself than to him, “You’re honest. Strong. Brave. Caring. Hilarious.” You began listing his qualities, “And that smile of yours, it can light up a room.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear as you spoke. When you dragged your fingers to his cheeks, you realized they were wet.

“You’re selfless, Dean.” You added, “And most of all you’re good. The kind of good that makes the best of men yearn to be like you.”

Right there, you realized you had only seen him cry one other time.

“I love you.” He whispered again and tried to pull you closer. There wasn’t any more space but damn did he try.

“Dean?” You whispered his name as if you hadn’t heard him speak just a second ago, “You’re also the guy I love. I don’t know if that fits in with the rest of the list, but I do. So fucking much.”

He was squeezing you so tight now, you nearly began to sweat.

“It’s the only part of the list that matters.” He said as his hands gripped your back.

– – – – 

I haven’t written for this blog in a while. Partly due to exams, and partly to writer’s block. Let me know if you like this/send feedback! I’d love to know how you all feel about this type of imagine. 

War Paint

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Summary: After discovering your boyfriend’s infidelity, you decide to exact your revenge… only things don’t go exactly how you planned

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: cheating/infidelity, language

A/N: It’s been awhile, guys, so I’m a little nervous about this one. I feel out of shape so feedback is greatly appreciated! And thanks as usual to @deanssweetheart23 for helping me get this finished and restoring my faith in my writing… love you, dude.

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The Past On Your Doorstep - AU

Dean x Reader

Summary: After more than 4 years Dean knocks on your door, surprising the hell out of you. Then it’s his turn to be surprised when he sees a little girl standing next to you.

A/N: Moving this fic from my side blog @canyonic to my main one.

Word Count: 1900+

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Half-Blood Princess

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Hannah (Twin Sister)

Length: 2466+ words

TW: Descriptions of Injuries. Character death. Just sadness and angst all over (I made myself cry writing this tbh)

A/N: I’m sorry (but not really sorry) for all the angst. Feedback is encouraged!

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3


Being half a Winchester usually never ended well. With Adam being in a cage- it was safe to say that if you’re not a full-blooded Winchester, your fate is very bleak. Very, very bleak. You on the other hand, never believed this. Neither did your twin sister, Hannah. When your mom died, she gave you the address of a Bobby Singer who then introduced you to your brothers- well, half brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester. They were one of the strongest men you’ve ever met in your life, and to say you weren’t a little bit intimidated was a lie.

You and Hanna were complete polar opposite. She was outgoing, and very easy to talk to; whereas, you were a bit on the shyer side, always anxious about saying the wrong things. But you got along pretty well. She understood you, and always tried to do her best to make you comfortable. Despite being quieter, it didn’t mean you were bad company. You had a lot of friends who thought you were the life of the party- well, before you moved to the other end of the country. Life with your brothers wasn’t exactly what you were expected. They bonded so well with Hannah (as expected), and you could see yourself becoming distant from them.

It wasn’t until they started training you two to hunt that you saw the clear favouritism towards your sister. You were equally as good as Hannah when it came to picking up the skills that your brothers taught you, but you were never praised. You were never given a high five, and offered to go out for your favourite treat. You were absolutely sure your brother had no malice intentions when doing these things. It was just your personality.

Dean was an extrovert through and through. You thought you could win him over through your cooking, but apparently he didn’t like anyone else working in the kitchen but him. By the time you found out his love for pie, he had already banned you from using the kitchen.

Sam was good-natured, and you were sure that you and him would get along very well. But, Sam was too excited at the prospect of a sister that he became more of an extrovert as well. He wanted to socialize, go out, and do things with his little sister.

It’s not like you hated going out or anything. You were fond of spending time with your family, but socializing drained you, and you were already quiet from the beginning. It was hard to get close to your new brothers when all they wanted to do was outgoing activities, but you did try.

You sat in when Dean was fixing his Baby or washing her, but he didn’t like the silence, so in the end he turned on his music. That’s when Hannah came in. She made a joke about his taste in music which he took full offense to, and she started asking questions about his car, and next thing you knew, he was teaching her everything about Baby- forgetting that you were even there.

With Sam it was a little easier. He was better to be around since you both were avid readers. You sometimes would read with him, but that left no room for communication, and you were left with a gap between you and your brother. There was one time where he wanted to go to the library, and you wanted to go as well, but that was until Dean piped in, and said that he wanted to go alone so he could ask the cute librarian out. Immediately, you backed out- not wanting to latch onto him when he wanted some alone time.

Cases like this kept happening, and it was harder to try. Too much time has passed, and you got nowhere closer to your brother than when you first met.

Then, there was the day that changed everything.

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Request: Sharp Objects

Request: HI I love your fics!! could you do a deanxreader where dean broke his right hand on a hunt and can’t shave himself so the reader, with hidden feelings for dean, does it for him with lots of fluff please

Word Count: 1,270

Thank you<3

“Ouch! Jesus Christ, that’s a bitch.” The muffled cursing comes from behind the bathroom door, then followed by the clinking sound of something falling into the ceramic sink, and finally a, “Son of a bitch!”

Despite the laundry pile you’re carrying, you swerve across towards the door and knock a couple of times with your free hand, “Dean? Everything alright in there?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a short reply, “Fine.”

He’s obviously frustrated – a tone you’ve quickly become accustomed to hearing after dragging him home from the hospital a few days ago. He’d landed badly after being catapulted across the room by an overzealous ghost and broken a hand, whereas Sam had gotten off with a concussion and you’d somehow managed to slip away injury-free – which had inevitably resulted in you skivvying around to cater to their every whim.

While Sam had managed to get over himself somewhat and take it easy while the hellish egg on his head goes down, Dean has been trying to do everything as normal. He hates being laid up like this, and trying to get everything done for himself has just resulted in more hurt and hindrance than help.

You still linger outside the door for a few moments, “Can I help at all?”

He hesitates, and for a long moment you wonder if he’s actually going to accept, “I could use a clean towel.”

“Got one here. Mind opening the door?” You ask, after trying to get in and finding the door locked. Again, a hesitation, but then the door opens, Dean fumbling with his good hand for a few moments to get it undone.

You pride yourself on being able to keep a poker face. Sometimes giving the enemy no indication of your emotions could mean the difference between life and death – sometimes it’s imperative that a victim doesn’t know what you’re thinking. But this time, when it’s important that you don’t make a sound so Dean doesn’t slam the door in your face, you just can’t seem to freaking manage it.

“I know, alright?” He huffs as you sidle into the bathroom and begin draping the towels from the pile over the towel rack, trying desperately not to laugh. It’s not your fault – he’s covered in shaving cream – it’s smudged over his nose and there are even splatters in his eyebrows. It’s all white, apart from a trail of crimson blood slipping down the side of his face.

“You can’t shave left-handed?” You guess, taking note of the razor left in the sink and the cast immobilising his right hand. He sighs wearily, and then nods.

“Nope. I’ve never had to try before, and I was starting to look even more homeless than Sam.” He complains, taking a towel from you when you offer one to him.

“Dean, for crying out loud, you shattered your hand. I think you’re allowed to look homeless for a little while.” You reassure him, balancing the rest of the laundry – mostly jeans and a handful of flannels – on the countertop, “If you really want it sorted, I’ll do it for you.”

As soon as the offer has left your mouth, you regret it – the very idea of managing to get so close to him without blushing like a five year old, or completely losing your breath… impossible. And yet, he nods, smiling ruefully.

“Would you mind? I just… can’t.” He shrugs, and you smile back, nodding and shooing him off towards the closed toilet seat.

“Go on then, sit down.” You instruct, picking up the razor and running the warm tap to clear it off. You let the tap run for a little while, filling the basin, and then approach Dean carefully, “You have to promise to stay still. Usually when I’m so close to someone with something this sharp it doesn’t end very well for them.”

He laughs, leaning back with the force of it, “That’s not encouraging, Y/N.”

“I said I’d do it. I never said I’d do it well.” You remind him with a smile – humour: humour is how you get through this without making a complete idiot of yourself.

“Much appreciated, beautiful.” He winks, and it’s all you can do to force out a snort and place your fingers beneath his chin to tilt his head up a little.

“Mm, whatever you say,” Sometimes it’s difficult not to take his words too seriously, and you have to remind yourself that Dean Winchester can and will flirt with anything that moves – you’re not special to him beyond being good friends and hunting buddies.

“Well, the closer you get, the more I’m thinking it.” He mumbles, remaining still as stone as you skin the razor over his skin smoothly – you’re painstakingly careful, starting on the opposite side to the cut on his lower cheek. He chuckles when you lean back to dunk the razor in the sink, then move back over to him.

“I’ll stay well back, then.” You wink in response, but contradict your own statement by leaning close enough to him that his breath ghosts over your face. His eyes remain trained on your face, watching every movement as you press your lips together, squinting in concentration. You try your best to ignore it, being as careful and steady as your humanly can manage while you get to work.

His eyes don’t leave you until you’re finished, patting down his face with a towel and then handing it to him – only then does he force himself to look away, watching as you clear up and set everything back in its place.

When he finally manages to open his mouth, he’s expecting the words that come out to be ‘thanks, Y/N’ – instead, they’re, “When you’re concentrating, your nose does this funny little thing.”

You turn slowly, quirking an eyebrow in a manner he can only describe as adorable, “Excuse me?”

“It kinda… wrinkles. But just at the tip. Right here.” He taps his own nose, a small smile playing on his lips, “And you blink a lot. I just… never noticed before.” Dean confesses, giving a nonchalant shrug and trying to ask as if he isn’t mortified by the words.

Rather than make a comment, you give a smile, wiping your hands off and stepping back, “I suppose I’m not the kind of person people pay a whole lot of attention to.” It’s not meant to be self-deprecating, but Dean takes it that way nonetheless.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He rolls his eyes, standing up and poking at the cast as if his hand would be magically healed, “Y/N, you turn heads everywhere you go.”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Hey, look at me,” He takes your wrist in his hand, turning you to face him properly, “You’re beautiful. Really, truly beautiful. And smart, and kind, and funny. And people notice that. I notice that.”

That’s when your heart really does skip a beat – his eyes are on yours, emeralds glinting in the harsh white light of the bunker’s main bathroom.

“Dean, I-“

“You don’t need to reply to that. Didn’t mean to back you into a corner. Sorry.” Dean smiles sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck with his good hand – but you shake your head, stepping forward with all of the boldness you can muster.

“I want to.” You assure him, taking his good hand and squeezing it gently, “I don’t care about anyone else noticing. Just you.”

He hesitates, then glances sideways, at the door, “Can I kiss you?” He blurts, flushing red like an embarrassed teenager.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”  

Heartache

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,099

Summary: A look at the reader through Dean’s eyes, focusing mostly on Dean’s emotions throughout the day and how he reacts to even the simplest of words. This is the raw and vulnerable side of Dean. 

A/N: I haven’t written something like this, I think ever before. It’s heavily focused on Dean (especially since it’s his POV). Even so, the reader is a huge part of it, but once again, through Dean’s perspective on the matter. Hopefully, you love it. I spent a long time on it, trying to really get into Dean’s head. It’s not the light side of Dean, not many jokes or wise cracks – it’s him in his raw emotional state. Also, this would not be possible with @thefangirllifeismine who not only corrected all of my shitty grammar, but stayed an inspiration throughout. Please, send in your feedback. It’s extremely important to me, I’d love to hear what you thought about this, especially since it’s definitely different from what I usually post.

Originally posted by canonspngifs

– – – – 

DEAN’S POV: 

Her lips were moving, but my eyes were stuck on her hair. It was wet, and dripping a river down her shirt. I don’t think a towel ever touched her head.

“Dean?” Her voice was warm, inviting. It always was. She was never harsh with her words. Sam constantly tried to poke at her, just to see what her voice would sound like if she raised it.

“Yeah?” I met my eyes with hers, catching her gaze.

I felt my brother’s eyes on me as well; his brow was raised and a smirk played on his face.

“We were asking if you wanted to go to the bar tonight.” Sam filled me in.

A laugh came up from my throat as I raised the glass of whiskey in my hand. “I’m fine right here.”

Y/N smiled and looked at Sam, “You’re still in, right?”

He nodded and got up from his chair. “I’ll go shower.”

I tipped my glass in response, and took another swig from it.

“Have you been out in the sun?” Y/N asked, suddenly.

I furrowed my brows, “I was working on Baby earlier, why?” Then, proceeded to lift up my shirt and smell it. “Do I smell that bad?”

“No,” She let out a light laugh, “Your freckles are darker.”

“My- my freckles?”

She leaned forward in her seat, her nose a mere foot from mine, “Freckles get darker in the sun.”

“Huh.” I muttered and took another sip of my drink.

“It’s cute, Dean.” She said and the whiskey managed to go down even slower. My lip twitched upwards.

Without waiting for me to respond, she gathered her hair to the side and wiped her now wet hands off on her jeans before jumping out from her seat.

“I’ll go change for the bar. Invite’s still open.” She smiled, turning on her heel.

I watched her leave, shamelessly.

The first time Sam and I met her, it was an accident. Neither of us knew we had been working the same case, so when I approached who I thought was the legitimate FBI agent on the case, Y/N’s face beamed back at me instead. After a few back and forth questions, the three of us discovered none of us were agents, and went to grab drinks instead. It was supposed to be a one time deal.

But, one night turned into two. Eventually, three. In no time, I was helping her bring boxes into the bunker from the trunk of her run down car.

“We can’t let anything happen to her, you know that right?” Sam said to me the night she moved in. The shower water was running loudly, and in that noise, we had a discussion.

“I know.” I replied to my little brother. Worry etched itself into every wrinkle on his face, just like it did on our mother’s. He would never know just how much he looked like her.

“That means relationships, too.” Sam narrowed his eyes at me.

I looked away, forgetting how easily he was able to read me.

He continued speaking, “Everyone we get too close to…”

Sam never did finish his sentence. The shower water shut off abruptly and out bounced Y/N. Her face was flushed and her hair dripped down her bare shoulders.

My thoughts were interrupted as Sam strided into the room.

“You sure you’re not coming?” He asked, cuffing up the sleeves to his shirt.

It was tempting. I knew the bar had better whiskey than the shit that was currently burning its way down my throat. Better yet, the bar had Y/N. Whenever she entered a bar, I could see everyone’s attention land on her. Her warmth radiated through her big eyes and genuine smile. Who wouldn’t be attracted to that?

“Nope,” I shrugged, “Not tonight.”

He nodded his head and walked towards the door, waiting for Y/N to meet him there.

“See you.” Sam shouted, his voice echoed down the hall.

Moments later, Y/N came out from her room. A short navy dress was hugging her skin, but what stole my attention was the jacket draped across her shoulders.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She said, pulling my black jacket around her.

“Looks better on you, anyways.” I said. It was the truth.

“Thanks, Dean.” She smiled at me before opening her small purse, reviewing whatever items lay inside of it. “See you later.”

With that, she was gone.

It may have been another hour before I got up, but when I finally did it was solely because I needed to go to the bathroom.

I stopped at the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, but this time it was different. Usually, I don’t look in the mirror.

Not when I wake up.

Not before I go to sleep.

If I do, I hate it. Plain as that. I never did like the man staring back, and I don’t know if I ever fully will. What changed though was that this time, someone liked what they saw on me.

My fingers reached up to my cheeks, running along the freckles on my skin.

Y/N liked them.

She honest to god, found something of mine that she liked. So, I did too. Immediately, I loved my freckles. I loved that my cheeks and nose were dusted with them, and that the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid eyes on, had found beauty in me, as well.

– – – –

It couldn’t have been earlier than two o’clock in the morning, when I heard familiar footsteps stumble down the bunker’s staircase. I kicked the sheets off of myself and went to see the state they were both in.

“Come on.” Sam mumbled, trying to hold Y/N up, but he was hardly walking himself. “Dean!” Sam shouted, his drunk self wearing a huge smile.

“Oh, it’s Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, a laugh bubbling out from her lips. She gripped the edge of the staircase with both hands, leaning forward as she spoke.

I crossed my arms and raised my brows, watching the two of them stumble through the bunker like baby deer.

“Here-” Sam tossed me a pair of car keys, “We called a cab, the car is still in the bar parking lot.” The keys hit the floor with a loud jingle, his aim completely skewed from the liquor.

Y/N rounded the edge of the table and began to fall towards me.

“Woah, there.” I grabbed her by her arms and steadied her.

“Thanks.” She laughed once more, at nothing in particular.

Behind me, Sam had already found his way to his room. Eventually, I’d have to check on him. For now, I gripped Y/N’s shoulder and guided her to her own bedroom.

“Oh- I forgot!” She looked up at me with wide eyes. “Remind me in the morning.”

I looked at her, waiting for her to explain. When she didn’t, I asked her what she was talking about.

“I have-” she stuck her hand in the pocket of my jacket that she was wearing and pulled out a napkin. A number was scribbled onto it. “His name is Matt. I have a date with him tomorrow night. Remind me, ok?”

I took the napkin from her, fighting the urge to rip it to shreds.

“Okay.” I stated, turning on the lights as she walked over to her bed.

“Promise me.” She kicked off her shoes sloppily. “He’s so nice-” I could tell she was beginning to ramble. Once she’s had enough to drink, she tends to.

“I bet he is.” I cut her off, helping her unzip her dress.

“And Dean-”

“Yeah?”

“He just has the most gorgeous freckles!”

In that moment, I worried that she could actually hear my heart drop into my stomach. I swallowed thickly, and within seconds, she continued on her drunken ramble.

“Goodnight.” I stated, simply from habit.

“Night, Dean!” She dropped onto her bed.

I should have gone back to bed. I should have crawled under the covers and shut my eyes. My feet had other plans, though. Step after step, I was trudged through the halls and into the library where my hand found a bottle of brown and an old glass.

Sam’s words spun through my head. She had to be protected. I thought back to everyone I had ever gotten close to; Charlie, Jo, and Bela were long dead. Just like every other fucking hunter that I had ever met and let into my life.

Sam tried to show me the positives. He brings up names like Jody and Cas – but who knows what will happen to them too?

I took another shot.

Eventually, it got dark.

– – – –

“Hey, sleepy.” Y/N’s hand gripped my shoulder. “Wake up.”

I opened my eyes and everything was sideways. Fuck.

“You fell asleep here, again.” Her soft voice explained my current situation. It was embarrassing. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking at the scene before me. A mostly empty bottle, a half drunk glass, and what I think was a little bit of drool, lay on the table.

“What time is it?” I asked, quickly getting up from the chair and brushing past her. She smelled like her shampoo. Always vanilla.

She turned her wrist towards me. Nearly noon, her watch read.

“Thanks.” I muttered and began walking towards the kitchen.

“I should be thanking you.” Her voice called from behind me. Then, her footsteps began to draw nearer. “I couldn’t have been easy to take care of last night. Sam and I, we kind of let loose.”

I grabbed the coffee pot and turned it on. The sound of boiling water dripping down filled the silence.

“No, it was fine.” I replied, then remembered what she asked of me last night. “Except-” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin. “Matt.”

Her eyes went wide, “Oh god.” She took the napkin from my hands. Her hair fell before her face as she read the number, and she combed it back with one hand.

“I totally forgot. Shit.” She pulled out her cell phone and checked for any notifications. “I’ll just text him.”

I turned from her, unable to watch her any longer, and grabbed a cup for my coffee.

“Want some?” I asked over my shoulder.

“No, thanks.” She said, just as her phone beeped. “He already answered!” She exclaimed.

I kept my eyes glued to the cup in front of me, not daring to see her face light up as she saw his name and not mine.

“Smells good.” My brother’s voice carried into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet and grabbed a cup as well, waiting until I finished pouring my own before taking the pot.

“Feeling good, Sammy?” I threatened a laugh and he rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t been this hungover in ages.” He grabbed a bottle of Advil and returned to the table. “It was worth it though, you should have joined.”

I shrugged and took a sip of my coffee.

“Who are you texting?” Sam directed his question at Y/N, who still stood in the middle of the kitchen.

She looked at him and dangled the napkin in the air, “Remember that guy at the bar last night?”

“The really funny one?” He asked.

She nodded fervently, “Yeah, Matt. I got his number and we’re going to grab dinner tonight.”

Sam glanced at me, before returning his gaze to his breakfast.

“He’s a good guy.” Sam said. I think it was more to me, than Y/N.

“I bet.” I mumbled into my drink.

– – – –

Sam decided to watch a movie tonight.

“Batman?” I questioned. He wasn’t one for the superheroes.

He popped it into the disk slot and dropped onto the couch. Looking at his huge frame swallow up the furniture, I remembered being able to hold him in my arms.

“Last time Y/N picked, it’s your turn.” He said while pressing play.

“Good. Wouldn’t want one of your history documentaries to bore me to death, tonight.” I began to laugh and he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” He muttered and grabbed the bowl of popcorn he had prepared.

An hour into the movie, the bunker door swung open. The loud creak it made reminded me to oil it later.

“Y/N?” I called out her name. The heels she was wearing when she left were no longer on. Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor until she finally reached us.

“How was it?” Sam asked, lowering the volume.

Her lips formed a fine line, “I’m just going to go shower.” She grabbed a fistful of popcorn before disappearing.

I looked at my brother. His brows were raised as he shook his head in confusion.

“I’ll go-” I sat up from the chair, “I’ll go check on her.”

Her door was shut. I raised my fist to knock, but she opened it before I got the chance.

“You walk loudly.” She stated. My lips formed at ‘O’.

“What was that about?” I motioned towards the other room with my thumb.

She shrugged and put her heels away in the closet.

“Sorry about that.” She looked up at me with her big, bold eyes, “I think Matt was a lot nicer when he was drunk.”

I crossed my arms and sat on the edge of her bed. “Huh?”

“Well, we ordered our food and everything was great. I mean finally, a break from hunting.” She explained, and I sighed.

She pulled her bouncy hair out from the pins it was in while she continued, “He was sweet at first, really. But I could tell something changed. Matt wanted more than what I did…”

My arms fell to my sides, “Did you leave?”

“Yeah, but that was only after he asked me four times to go back to his place.” She was on the floor, her legs bent underneath her. She dropped her hands onto the floor from frustration as she spoke.

“What a douchebag.” I stated, no other word was able to form itself. “You don’t deserve that.”

She looked up at me, and a smile formed itself against her cheeks.

“I’m gonna be single forever.” She joked. “I mean, who am I kidding?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

From her spot on the floor, she reached out and gripped my leg with her hand. “Come on, Dean. We’re hunters. Let’s say it did work out with Matt – who’s to say he wouldn’t freak out the second that I brought him down into the bunker or told him that vampires are real!” Her grip tightened as she spoke, “It’s so fucking frustrating sometimes.”

“Dating is the worst.” I agreed with her.

“No.” She ran her hand down my leg and to my ankle, where she removed it.

I furrowed my brows and looked at her, every bit of me confused.

“Then what?”

“Being alone.” Her eyes dropped from mine and my chest suddenly felt heavy. I knew the feeling of being alone, too well. It was heartbreaking, yet familiar at the same time. It was relief, yet yearning.

“You got me.” I blurted out.

She got up from her spot on the floor by my legs, and situated herself on the bed so she sat next to me.

“I know that, Dean. I meant… more.” Y/N’s voice dwindled into a whisper. I turned my head to face her, and in that moment, I couldn’t lie to her.

“Exactly.” I stated, and her eyes first searched my face. They traveled from eye to eye as she thought of what I could possibly mean, until her lips parted.

I didn’t know what to expect. My heart hasn’t raced this fast since for someone else since high school. I either just started the relationship I had been waiting for, or ruined a friendship that was worth more to me than anything else.

I was so focused on her face that I hadn’t realized her hand found mine.

I wanted to keep her hand there, to squeeze it tight. But, Sam’s words found their way back into my head.

“I’m selfish.” I stated simply, standing up from the bed.

“What?”

“I’m being selfish, you deserve better.”

She tilted her head at me, her hair falling with it. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Everyone I touch, they-”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Y/N cut me off. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“They leave.”

“You know I’m not going to.” She stood up from the bed and walked up to me, placing her open palms on my chest. “I’m not just somebody.”

“That’s the point!” I exclaimed, voice rising. “You aren’t just somebody! What if something happened to you? I can’t let you get hurt.”

“You’re not my keeper, Dean.”

I laced my fingers around her wrists, holding her palms tightly against my chest. “From the first time you walked through those bunker doors, I wanted no one but you, and you know why I haven’t told you?”

She looked up at me through her lashes.

“I have been torturing myself every day, because I want you safe. I need you safe.”

For a few moments, no one said anything. Y/N just stared up at me with a look I had never seen before.

Then, she stood on her toes, and pressed her lips to mine.

And God, it was everything I thought it would be. She was warm and sweet, like honey. Her hands were squeezing at my waist and I knew right there that I was done for.

My hands traveled up to her neck, grazing every inch of her skin.

“Since the first day?” She teased, speaking slowly against my lips.

I laughed, “Since day one.” I affirmed and she smiled so wide that all I wanted to do was kiss every inch of her bubbly cheeks.

“How about we get dinner tonight, sweetheart.” I asked, hoping she was still hungry after the shit dinner she described with Matt.

“I’d love to.” Y/N’s fingers found mine and she led me out of her room.

Sam was still seated on the couch. His hand was glued to the remote and I could hear the channel being changed every other second. When we passed through, my hand still in hers, he raised his brows and stared at me.

“Woah, wait-” He called out behind us.

“We’ll be back soon!” Y/N called over her shoulder.

A smile remained on my face for the rest of the night, never faltering.

Can’t Go Back

Originally posted by justjensenanddean

Characters: Y/n, Dean, Sam

Pairing: Dean x Y/n (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

Warnings: Angst, argument, abandoned reader, regret, self hate. Just all angst.

Word Count: 1861

Summary: Dean finds himself back where he should be. But Y/n isn’t with him.

A/N: Ok, so some angst cos…this song just gave me a load of angst. I’m hoping it’s really angsty. I have no idea. Either way, hope u like it!!

Masterlist

“No. No. NO!”

Dean frantically scratched at the floor, the doorway, anything he could get to, so he could get back to you.

He turned back to Sam, eyes pouring with tears, not caring who saw him.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?”

Sam swallowed hard, his heart pounding as the rage poured out of Dean.

“I…I did what I had to”, he stuttered, knowing Dean wasn’t going to accept this. 

Not with you still there.

“You…yo-you…”

Dean choked on his words, his vision completely blurred as he felt his heart break.

Keep reading

3

Broken - Dean x Reader

Summary: Weddings. How fun. Super fun. Especially when the one getting married is the love of your life. Especially when he’s marrying someone else.

A/N: 2000 thanks to the wonderful @there-must-be-a-lock for beta-ing this story. ❤ 

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst :D

Theme Song: In my Veins - Andrew Belle


Keep reading

Half-Blood Princess (Part 2): Guardian Angel

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Castiel, Hannah (Twin Sister), Alexis (Cross-Road demon), Chuck/God. 

Length: 2953+ words

TW: Surprisingly, nothing? A broken soul. Mentions of torture. Alastair. Drunk!Dean. Sad!Dean. 

A/N: SO MANY PEOPLE WANTED A PART 2!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the first part, and there are so many interests for a second part. I had such a hard time writing this, but it just all came to me last night when I couldn’t sleep. Feedback is encouraged!

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3


Alexis glanced at the angel with her eyebrow raised. “What do you want?” she asked coldly. 

“I’m looking for Y/N’s soul,” Castiel responded calmly.

Anger flashed through her black eyes before returning to its original colour. “You’re looking at it.”

Castiel turned his attention to the broken soul on the ground, the light emitting from it almost nonexistent.

“She’s been here a while,” Alexis told him.

“You are the crossroad demon that made a deal with her, correct?”

“Yea.”

“I see. I will be right back.” The angel disappeared for a few minutes to break the news to her family, telling them that there was no hope on getting her back before returning with another man.

“Who the hell are you?” Alexis asked protectively, stepping forward in front of what was left of Y/N’s soul.

“My name is Chuck,” he answered. “Other known as, God.”

The demon scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yea, right.”

“It is true,” Castiel confirmed. “I’ve asked him if there is anything he could for Y/N.”

“She didn’t deserve that.” Alexis seemed to be more relaxed after the angel’s explanation. “She was too young to go.”

“You are very inclined to her,” Chuck stated. 

“She reminded me of myself when I was human,” Alexis repeated softly. “I sold my soul for a shitty boyfriend after he went off and killed himself driving drunk. After I saved him, he ran off with an ex-girlfriend.” The demon looked at the bloody wall where Y/N was usually chained. “I tried protecting her as best as I could here.”

The two men waited for her to elaborate, knowing that there was so much more she wanted- no, needed to say. 

“I made a deal with Alastair. Every 10 years, I would take her place for a year, and she would do my cross-road biddings. She didn’t deserve to be tortured for so long.” If she could, the two men were sure that Alexis would have been in tears by now.

There was a brief moment of silence before it was interrupted by Chuck.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been kinder to her than I have, it seems. As a token of my gratitude for being so kind, I would like to extend an offer.”

“I think I’ve made enough deals don’t you think?” Alexis asked with laugh.

“I think you’re gonna like this one,” Chuck bantered back. “There’s no catch. I want your soul to move on.”

“Move on? As in, I won’t be a demon anymore?”

“Yes. You can pass to your heaven now.”

“You’re kidding?!” Alexis’s jaw dropped. This was not the deal she was expecting after being a demon for so long.

“I am not. It’s the least I can do.”

Her attention went back to Y/N’s soul, looking at it sadly. “What will happen to her?”

“I will do my best to piece her back together.”

Keep reading

World’s Best Dad (Part 2)

Originally posted by hugwinchester

Summary: The reader heads to the Winchesters for her date with Dean…

World’s Best Dad Masterlist

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Gah, daddy!Dean is too cute…


Keep reading

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 3)

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, Dean being a jealous bb

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Word count: 5k O_O

Summary: Dean, trying to get accustomed to Y/N’s family and her life in Boston, finds himself worrying about their very own lives together and what the future holds. Will he manage to find a permanent position in her life, or is it all just a role he must play for these two weeks?

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been writing this over a span of two weeks and had initially planned to divide it into two or three parts, but decided against it. I hope you like this.

Tagging: @sassyspn67 , @awkward–jay , @daesunglg​ ,  @hayleynightcore

                                                      ~*~*~


Dean prays his nervousness doesn’t show in the weak smile he offers the table of gleaming faces. They all stand as the three of them approach, all with welcoming smiles, all eyes trained on Y/N as she walks to them like a prodigal daughter returning home after so long.

S/P/N goes in for an immediate hug once she’s close enough and engulfs her little sister, squeezing the life out of her. He tries not to chuckle at the way Y/N groans—countless stories about their childhood together, about how close they were and unbreakable bonds and up until today Dean has never once met S/P/N, but he can’t help but find the way she treats her sister amusing.

The grin on her face is wide as she pulls away. “Look at you!” She says, eyes raking up and down Y/N’s face. “You’re so different now, oh my God!”

“Please don’t start with me, we only just got here.” The y/h/c-haired girl replies as she straightens out the creases in her skirt. Before she can even get another word out, her mother is at her side, an ambient smile gracing her face.

“Well, S/P/N’s not wrong.” Her voice is a deep baritone, husky and rich as she gives her daughter a kiss on the cheek then turns to the boys. And that’s when the anxiety comes flooding back.

A queasiness in his stomach, a twitch in his jaw—something basic and miniscule like breathing or blinking, something he does unconsciously, suddenly feels mechanical. Forced. But the elder Winchester masks it with an amiable smile, the corner’s of his eyes scrunching up. Y/N’s mother’s eyes then travel to his own and her face lights up. “Dean…”

“Marilyn…” He smiles.

They hug like their old friends, like this isn’t their third (fourth?) time meeting; that’s the kind of person Y/N’s mom is. Everyone is her friend. Everyone is adored company rather than a burden, and Dean can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by this level of kindness because God, could he pick a leaf.

Her face folds like dough when she simpers. “looking dapper as ever. Sam, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”

S/P/N cuts in, earning the elder Winchester’s attention. “So you’re the esteemed-Dean, huh?” She asks, brown eyes scrutinizing him; despite being her blood, she looks nothing like Y/N. A few join similarities here courtesy of genetics and maybe some shared habits, but Dean knows Y/N enough that he’d be able to distinguish her if she even had a twin.

“Wow.” S/P/N turns to Y/N with a ribbing smile. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the pink-tint in her face is undeniable—so she’s nervous, too. Good. Someone has to be, he thinks. Maybe Y/N can take his place in this apprehensive state, salvage him from his feelings.

“The stories I’ve heard about you…” S/P/N says fondly. “Welcome. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. Your sister goes on and on about you.”

“Likewise.”

Dean’s expression then shows hwo taken abck he is at that very moment: his eyes widen a smidge and his brows quirk. Turning to Y/N, he asks, “Does she now?”

The young hunter’s face is a deep red as she shoots her sister a dangerous look, jaw clenched. “Really?”

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, she then links her arm with his. “Come on, Dean. There’s still a ton of more people we have to meet.”She says  as she turns and strings him along with her. They scuttle aside, leaving Sam deeply invested in chatter with Marilyn as they venture into the crowd. Amused, the elder Winchester’s smirk doesn’t leave his face as they move.

He leans in, voice hushed. “So, you talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Y/N then halts to a stop and whips around to face him, face constricted with irritation. Satisfaction floods Dean at the sight; pretending they’re in a relationship doesn’t mean abandoning his liking for razzing the young-girl. If anything, he reasons, it’s a catalyst.

“Dean,…”She warns, her voice as thin as ice. “I’m warning you…I’m not one to shy away from slapping you right in front of all these people?”

“You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend…”Smirking, he goes to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls Y/N in, tipping his head down to look at her. Her expression then falters for a moment; her face falls and the fire in her eyes fades; but its brief, almost indiscernible, because seconds later her pout resurfaces.

Their bodies are flush together, her nimble waist caged in his hands, and Dean tries so hard to ignore the way the tips of his fingers heat up at the contact.

Instead, he chuckles and loosens his grip. Y/N manages to slip out as she rolls her eyes—even then, her blush is still evident.

“Come on…”She links Dean’s hand in hers, and leads him over to another table crowded with some cousins and aunts. The garden is dotted with various people, all smiling when they see her, all going in for hugs and pecks on the cheeks and all giving such sly smiles when Y/N says that Dean and her are dating. Some congratulate them, some, whom Dean has had the pleasure of meeting before like Y/N’s cousin Garth, hold a teasing glint in their eyes.

They talk to relatives and uncles and eerie aunts who, right in front of Y/N, try to hit on Dean. The garden is buzzing with life from all ends, music floating amongst chatter of guests, people dancing,  and as she talks more and more with old friends and relatives, he can see the young girl gradually unwinding.

Her smile, ever-present and as radiant as star, grows with each second, with each interaction. She’s mirthful. Happy. If that’s the case, Dean wonders, then why was she so reluctant about driving out to Boston? Why had Y/N shown the idea of coming out here such disdain?  The question swims in his mind, but that’s as far as it goes. Dean doesn’t bother asking. That’s not his focus now—his focus now is playing his part and helping her get through these two weeks without any setbacks, and so he allows himself the luxury of sitting back and indulging in the buffet with Y/N. Their earlier hunger returns with a vengeance once they spot the table lined with various foods.

They’re stacking piles of pastries onto their plates, when all of a sudden comes a voice.

“How did you two meet?” Uncle Gary, a burly bull trapped in a man’s body, inquires. He’s got hair as grey as the ash on his cigar, and each time he speaks, the thick mustache atop his lip wiggles like a caterpillar. His wife, Steph, stands by his side, eagerly staring and waiting for a response.

“Uhm..”Dean’s gaze slides to Y/N. She looks back at him, a brief horror flashing on her face. For a few seconds, they panic. Shit.“We met…”

“In the park!”

The elder Winchester, shocked, glances over at his girlfriend. She’s smiling at her uncle, her cool demeanor seamlessly in place. If you look hard enough, you can see the glint of pride in her eyes from just saving their asses.

Uncle Gary’s thick grey brows quirk curiously. “In the park?”

“Yeah…” Y/N affirms. “Well, by the park. I was, uh, walking my dog one morning when all of a sudden this car comes speeding out of nowhere as we’re crossing.” She casts cursory glance at Dean, who tries not to smile, both in appreciation and subtle arrogance.

“Yeah.” He supplements, earning the attention momentarily. It’s kind of funny how synchronal they are—a close call like that, teetering along the line between exposing themselves, but Y/N manages to redeem them, and Dean, like a dancer moving to the tune of her symphony, follows without a beat.

“See, I was on my way to work that morning. I was late, so you can imagine what a rush I was in, right? So there I am, cursing to myself as I speed down the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on my tie, when this fuzzy little poodle—“

“Jack Russell.” She corrects. “ He was a jack Russell.”

Dean raises his finger in benediction.  “Right, Jack Russell. So—all of a sudden, he jumps out onto the road and I’m in shock. “

“Luckily, with quick reflexes like Dean’s, he managed to swerve out of the way. He misses him. ” The young girl plays the role so earnestly, her furrowed brow and weary eyes expression selling her distress. “God, poor Kujo was shaking like a leaf. “

“So, Y/N, pissed as hell, tries waving me down. She’s running after my car until I finally pull over and she comes up to my window, and just starts exploding.” Dean’s eyes widen for emphasis, his hands waving in the air. It’s a known trait of his. Whenever telling story, to try and spice thing up or make them seem much more exciting than they actually are, the elder Winchester will flail around and pull faces, and Y/N won’t admit it, but she find it absolutely adorable.

“She’s going on about calling the cops and road rules and safety, but at that moment all I’m focusing on is how goddamn y/e/c her eyes are.” He explains. He doesn’t notice that, as soon as the words leave him, the young girl’s face flushes red. He goes on, says something more, something that makes Aunt Steph’s face fold and crease like cookie dough as she smiles, and then finishes off with a firm arm around her shoulder.

He gives it a firm squeeze, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Long story short: I didn’t even show up for work in the end.”

“Wow.” Aunt Steph’s grey eyes go wide like planets. “Unconventional grounds indeed.”

“That story was a rollercoaster from start to finish! Loved it!” Uncle Gary, smile engulfing his face, slaps a friendly hand onto Dean’s shoulder who glances at Y/N.

The pair shares a confided glance, their pride shining in the way they smirk at each other. They’ve pulled it off.  

The elder Winchester offers a proud smile, fighting the urge to turn to his partner, to pull his lips back in a teasing smirk, for the smugness in his eyes to say I told you so, I told you the doggie hit-and-run would sell. Instead, however, he focuses on Uncle Gary telling him about his very own Terrier that nearly got hit by cyclist as she and her aunt wander off to the sidelines.

“Well, well, well…” Someone says from behind them.  Dean instinctively turns; his eyes meet with a pair of deep blue ones staring intently at him, at Y/N, a lopsided grin set onto the stranger’s face. His hair, a deep onyx, cascades down his neck to his shoulders. He’s dressed in a suit, very official, very formal, and it makes the elder Winchester’s stomach turn for a moment.

“Look who it is.” The stranger says.

Dean furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

“Rick!”

His head snaps in the Y/N’s direction, and his confusions swells even more when he sees the wide grin lacing the young girl’s face.

Her eyes trained on the stranger, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh my God.”

“Missed me?” The stranger smirks at her, then goes in for a hug.

Dean steps aside and out of the way, trying not to bump into the table and almost topples over a tray of croissants. He watches, bewildered, as the two exchange pleasantries. Y/N’s arms are slung around his neck, as she giggles then pulls away.

“Very much.” She smiles at him. “Wow. It’s been so long.”

“Hasn’t it?”

“Dean!”

The elder Winchester, attention grasped, looks to her. She points at the blue-eyed man. “This is Rick—Rick Montoijia! He was my neighbor when I still lived my parents from, like, two houses down. Uhm, rick, this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Heya.” Rick stretches his hand out for a shake. Hesitating, Dean eyes it momentarily and then finally accepts the gesture.

“Hi….” His eyes scan the stranger’s face dubiously, his grip firm, trying to assert dominance. And all of a sudden, something has brewed in his chest.

Something hot and vehement in the space below his ribs; an energy, a sense of intimidation. It’s stupid to feel, yes, but Dean can’t help it—his chest floods with a jealousy as he lets go of the other man’s hand.

With an excited smile, Y/N addresses Rick. “What are you doing here? We—I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“S/P/N’s wedding.” He points to Y/N’s sisters standing a few meters away. “Obviously I knew you’d be in town for that. I figured,’ well, when was the last time I saw Y/N L/N?’ and here I am.”

“Here you are.” Dean cuts in.

All eyes shift to him. Y/N peers over Rick’s shoulder, trying to get a better glimpse, and the green-eyed hunter offers a strained smile; one far from genuine, something the young girl is obviously familiar with, because her smile begins to melt away at the sight. Dean doesn’t care. His gaze then shifts to Rick, whose smile is still smeared across his chiseled face.

“Uhm, yeah…”The dark-haired man laughs nervously. “Here I am. So…”His attention averts onto Y/N. “How long are you gonna be in town? We need to catch up.”

“Definitely. I’m here for—“

“We’re here—“

“—for two weeks. Yeah, we’re here for two weeks.” Y/N finishes, voice holding a dangerous edge to it. Dean chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the dark-haired stranger’s face lights up with mirth.

“Wow. That’s great.”

“It really is, Rick. Anyhow, it was great meeting you, but we have to go.”

“What?”

Dean doesn’t give her a chance to object as his hand goes to Y/N’s waist, and he nudges her forward, quickly trying to get away as fast as possible. Luckily, they succeed; standing behind them, Rick offers a weak, awkward goodbye as they move further away. In his chest, dean’s heart thrums rapidly, incessantly.

His jealousy boils like a hot stew, threatening to spill over, and he suffocates it; he’s being irrational. He’s being stupid. That guy is just one of Y/N’s many friends, he reasons. He’s just another familiar face from Boston, a ghost from her past, nothing too serious…

But the call to worry is stronger than reprimand for Dean.

When she notices his stiffness, Y/N turns to look at the elder Winchester. Concern swims in her y/e/c eyes. “You okay?”

Attention grasped, Dean turns to her, finds her imploring eyes set on him. They’re back inside, sitting with Sam and the bride and groom, and the band is playing some variation of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.

Trying to stifle his feelings, the elder Winchester regains composure, offering a tight-smile. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sure? You seem…absent. Like something’s bothering you.”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh. He tries to steady the quaking in his core, letting his gaze drift across the room. Y/N scoots closer in and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his jaw.

“If you say so…”She says with sigh, her breath fanning against his skin. Her body is warm against his, like a tepid lava flowing down his skin, soothing, therapeutic almost.

“Good job back there with nearly killing my dog, by the way. Put on quite the show.”

The elder Winchester laughs. It’s soft and feint but she can feel it in the rumble of his body beneath her head.

“Yeah, well, what can I say—I’m a sucker for theatre.”

“Are you now?”

“Oh yeah, massive fan. Plus, anything to get my story told.” Dean senses it hanging in the air like a string suspended between them, a silent question. It’s quiet for moment.  He then tips his head to glimpse down at her, a smile playing at his lips.

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

Y/N bites her smile back, a row of her chalky white teeth contrasting the burgundy on her lips, then lets it all bubble out. “Fine! You were right. Your good looks and charm won me over—there, are you happy?”

Dean doesn’t bother to try and mask his smile. “Extremely.”

“What’re you guys talking about?”

His head turns; S/P/N waddles over and pulls out a chair a few seats away, smiling as she sits down. She folds the pleats in her burgundy skirt over.

“Stuff.” Replies Y/N, head still draped against Dean’s shoulder.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Couple stuff. Dean and Y/N stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” She smirks; then Dean pokes her side and she lets out a giggle; it’s a sweet, quiet sound, like the hum of a bird or the wind wisping through the trees, and it makes the pit in the elder Winchester’s stomach from earlier yawn open.

As Y/N speaks with her sister, the elder Winchester feels a flood of melancholy coming on. He can always tell when it’s happening; it’s like watching everything around you happening at a normal pace when all of a sudden things are slowed down, sluggish, delayed. That’s what Dean feels like right now. He loathes it.

The evening is electric and dressed in a celebratory energy. More guests have arrived for the dinner, all pouring in in massive crowds and gaudy sartorial dresses. Dean has to stand when he greets them all, offering an amiable smile, the occasional hug and peck as they all fawn—oh my God, the Dean? Y/N’s Dean?

It gets annoying having to hear everybody so jubilant over meeting him, at a point. They’re excited to be meeting their sister’s boyfriend, their niece’s lover, the man whom she, too, shall bring back here to Boston in a few years to wed. To them, Dean assumes, meeting him is a gateway to another one of this sartorial dinners just a few years ahead.

To him, it’s plain insulting.

Why did he even agree to this? Playing pretend had seemed less tedious in his mind. Doing it now, the elder Winchester is wrought with negative emotions; with jealousies and blind resentments and a bitterness because he shall have anything but this future with Y/N, and God, is he pissed.

“Dean,” She says, pulling him from his reverie. Aunt Steph and good ol’ Gary sit across from them, sipping on some champagne and laughing with Y/N’s parents, and to their left is S/P/N and Japheth. Everyone is laughing and chatting and the air reeks of jubilance, except for the corner where a heavy grey cloud hangs over Dean’s head.

Y/N’s hand is on his as he turns to her, her y/e/c eyes trained intently on his. “What’s wrong?” She pries. He has to say something. Lying would only act as a catalyst for his negative emotions (lying to Y/N, at least). So, instead, Dean heaves a heavy breaths and gathers the feelings in his chest into a single nest.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “I’m just trying to let this all sink in. Your family. It’s pretty overwhelming meeting all the people in your life who mean the world to you.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t how you planned to spend the next two weeks, Dean.” Y/N’s gaze falters, moving to their hands loosely draped over each other.  

Dean’s eyes follow. He shrugs and, taking her hand in his, slowly links them together absentmindedly. Their fingers fit perfectly, like a key slipping into a lock, like a tight knot, and he tries to ignore it.

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He replies. “Besides—I’m the one who offered this in the first place. I don’t really have the luxury of complaining.”

“Should I give it to you?”

“Keep it.”

“Sure?

When Dean finally looks up, he finds Y/N’s eyes trained on him, her lips pulled back in pleasant smile. In the background, the music slows to a stop as it shifts to the next song. More upbeat, more jazzy and fun. The room’s chatter provides the perfect undertone, but Dean ignores it—all of it, because all he can focus on right now is Y/N.

His Y/N. For tonight, for two weeks.

Whatever.

He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s having the honor of playing her boyfriend for a period of time and then going back to being just her best-friend; to being her Dean and not her Dean.  Going back to a life where she sees their relationship, although intense, as nothing more than a deep friendship.

It’s only been a few hours, but it’s crazy how much can be revealed to you in such a span of time. Dean sees it now—sees Y/N and, even if he didn’t think it possible, even more of her than he already has. He sees Y/N in her element, with her family, with her friends and with a sense of mirth radiating off her…And as great as it is, all it does for him is nudge at the thought that he shall never be part of that.

They mean a lot to each other, he knows that much, but today has made him wonder if he will ever be part of Y/N’s suburban life, whether he’ll breach past their life spent in the bunker and in pages of lore and into that which holds this very idyllic essence.

The thought, daunting and unfortunately saddening, hits the elder Winchester like a ton of bricks. He immediately turns away. He rests his focus on something—anything—that isn’t Y/N smiling at him and causing an uproar in the space behind his heart.

The night simmers on, laced with laughter and chatter and smiles too bright for Dean to bare. He only watches from the sidelines, an observer, a spectator…Y/N is the center of the orbit that is the eclectic crowd. She smiles and the entire room responds with an abundance of simpers; her laugh is a mellifluous symphony overpowering the music, her eyes glint like the stars in the sky and she throws her head back and captivates the attention of everyone in the room. She reels them all in like a magnet, like she’s magic…

And to Dean she is…

She always has been and always will be. She is ethereal and glimmering and inside her is a flame and a tornado and such vehemence that would tear a mere mortal apart, but doesn’t even scratch her skin the slightest.

Y/N is magic and she will always be magic, and Dean knows this. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, and it hurts…Because the hollowness in his chest that comes from watching her so radiant makes him wonder why he said yes to the torture of being just another planet in her orbit in the first place…

~*~

The list is exceedingly long, but what stands out predominantly on the account of things they were meant to discuss before they left home (but didn’t), is the sleeping arrangement.

Standing in their hotel bedroom, the elder Winchester stares at the single bed, at the six fat pillows nested at the head and the vast comforter definitely two huge for two. It’s a lover’s suit; of course the hotel would be expecting customer’s to be doing anything but sleeping in these sheets, but Dean’s case is the exception.

Y/N is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The sound of the shower running echoes throughout the otherwise silent room and the elder Winchester feels a small welt of nervousness claw at his belly. They’ve shared beds before. This shouldn’t be a big deal…

But…

God, he’s acting like a teenage boy with this. It’s not that hard, Dean tells himself. They can even divide it into two regions if they want, Y/N’s, and then the extremely comfy one with the extra pillow for him. They can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be awkward, eh tries to reason, but something tugs at his gut and tells him otherwise, because Dean feels all sorts of anxious.

Maybe it’s the thought of lying to sleep with her after the mortal sin they’ve just committed throughout the day: fraud. Artifice. Maybe, Dean thinks, it’s the fact that they’ll have to pretend to be together even as they lay to sleep that terrifies him maybe it’s the lover’s suit. He and Y/N are anything but. All the times they’ve slept in the same bed in the past, it’s been in dingy, itchy, sketchy motels, not five stars hotels that probably provide complimentary condoms.

He lifts the thick blanket on the bed and crawls under it, trying to get comfortable. The bed is cloud, embracing him, engulfing him into its form like it’s an amoeba and him its prey. God, this is comfy. Dean’s eyes flutter and he tips his head back in subtle ecstasy.

Right at that moment, the door to the bathroom swings open.

Y/N stomps out in pajama shorts and a towel clasped tightly to her chest, eyes wide as she glimpses around the room. Opening his eyes, Dean then ctaches her gaze.

“Sorry.” She apologizes and points to her beg at the foot of the bed. “I just need my shirt from my suitcase. Don’t look!”

“No promises.” But he doesn’t, instead covering his eyes with one hand. He hears the patter of feet and the rustling of clothes as Y/N retrieves the garment, then rushes back into the bathroom. When she returns, a moment later, this time she’s fully clothed.

“The pressure here is ace.” Y/N says, holding her fingers up in an appropriate gesture as she saunters towards the bed. She hauls her bag off and onto the floor, then climbs up, pushing the blanket aside.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a shower and didn’t want to get out.”

Dean lowers his hand and looks at her; hair wet and clinging to her skin, her face is bare, all the makeup from today washed away into the drain. A few pimples dot the surface of her cheeks and, although feint, there’s a single splatter of freckles just below her jaw line that Dean always finds himself admiring.

“That’s good to know. In other news: the sleeping arrangement. How’s this gonna work?”

“You mean top or bottom?”

“Grow up.”

Y/N’s grin never falters as she laughs. “I don’t really mind, Dean. If it bothers you, you could always take the floor.”

“I never said it bothers me…”

“Does it?”

Her eyes are staring intently into his and he’s trying too damn hard to not get caught up in them. He shouldn’t. the moment is far from appropriate. She’s basically telling him to get out of the bed and spend the night on the floor like a hound, and heaven be damned if Dean is going to let himself focus on anything but defending himself.

So he tips his head back slightly, locks his eyes on hers, and says, “Not at all.”

“Then goodnight, Winchester.” Y/N smiles, before turning the night-light off and wiggling further under the blanket.

Dean mirrors her. He slides beneath it, letting it came up to his chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the pulse of his blood. Sleep hovers over him like a phantom but never once dares to preside.

Minutes pass and he’s still awake. The elder Winchester fidgets, turning on his side, eyes meeting the bright glare of the moonlight invading the room. He checks his watch on the bedside table. Two am. Still up. His eyelids feel heavy and a yawn pries his mouth open, but Dean can’t sleep, and it’s an insomnia, the worst kind of insomnia, that he’s too familiar with.

He’s dabbled in it in the past; with the mark of cain and in purgatory. When he was demon, when Sam was soulless and when Cas was presumed dead. Dean knows this plague, greets it like an old friend, doesn’t even bother fighting it, but there’s no denying that it’s annoying. He wants rest—needs it. The last thing he needs right now is a visit from this phantom that keeps him up, staring at the blank ceiling.

A few seconds subside when silence is broken by hushed voice.

“Dean ar—you’re awake?” Y/N rolls over, her droopy eyes meeting his.

The elder Winchester nods silently. His eyes burn.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know why you can’t sleep?”

“That’s what I just said.”

The sheets shift. Y/N props herself up on her elbow, looking at him, her eyes still swimming with sleep. He wonders what woke her, but remains silent as he turns to meet her gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are somber and intently set on him; there’s a weight on her heart for a moment, something that visibly bring out the worry in her gaze. “Nightmares?”

She’s been with him through all of them; all those times mentioned, all those calamites in his life, Y/N has walked through them with Dean. Consequently, she can tell when something’s up. It’s comforting for Dean to know that’s she’s so in sync with him, that they’ve got this visceral connection that alerts her when something’s up, but unfortunately now it’s a bit of a false alarm.

He shakes his head. “No. Just can’t sleep.”

“Oh…” She voices simply and within a moment the solemnity fades. Then comes the sound of the sheets shifting, Y/N sitting up and she turns on the nightlight. The warm light right away glares onto the side of his face. Dean squints, lolling his head to the side.

Y/N’s hair dangles around her face as she looks at him. “Anything I can do to help? Get a glass of water, sing you a lullaby?”

“Rock me to sleep?” He supplements.

She shrugs. “Anything.”

Then, chuckling, elder Winchester turns away and allows his gaze to float back to the ceiling. y/N continues to speak in the background, going on about the day and tomorrow and how everything’s going to go down so that everything turns out as planned. She’s notified Sam already, apparently. Unlike Dean, he won’t have to do much besides be himself and distract Marilyn for the weekend…

But for Dean, Y/N proclaims, it’s going to be a long two weeks: he’s going to have to do a lot more than he’d anticipated; more work, more fraud. For the following days he must wear his disguise as though it is anything but…and the funny thing? Dean knows it’s going to be elementary…

Because they can only get so much closer.

Because they, before today, already spent nights in bed chatting about everything and anything that came to mind; because he already used to walk inches close to her and comb his fingers through her hair and laugh and feel (God, did he feel), and so maybe this is going to be a walk in the park. Maybe it will be easy, Dean thinks—until he’s reminded of earlier at dinner and the gaping hole in his chest.

                                                       ~*~*~

Part 4

If you enjoyed this, feel free to like, reblog and follow for updates, as well as to read some of my other oneshots. Thank you for the support <3

Princess

Characters: Dean x Reader, Castiel, Sam

Words: 2110

Summary: The reader has been sick for the past week, but when Dean has to go on a hunt and Cas takes care of the reader, Castiel reveals that the reader isn’t actually sick.

This one shot is dedicated to @soaringeag1e , in honor of her baby girl coming in September!! :D The idea came to me and I just had to write it. So this is for you Megan. And special thank you to @the-thirteenthhour for helping me with this! :) Enjoy!!

Keep reading

Best Teacher In The World

Kindergarten Teacher!Dean x Reader

A/N: I saw this post about what a great kindergarten teacher Dean would be, and I totally agree, so this one-shot followed. It’s just fluff and Dean being adorable. What’s new?

Word Count: 2100+

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @daydreamingintheimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @amoreagron @spnfangirl1965 @aristtewinchesterholmes @thisisthelilith @chelsea072498 @skymoonandstardust @apeshit7x @aiaranradnay @anokhi07 @tatortot2701 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt  @mangasia @sharkeeshark @maui137 @mogaruke @zanthiasplace @extreme-supernatural-lover  @feelmyroarrrr @mrsbatesmotel53 @ronniesanter @jensen-jarpad @27bmm  @just-another-busy-fangirl @deathtonormalcy56

“…re you go, buddy. You call me if you need any more help, all right? Natalie, you good there?”

Knocking on the ajar door, you peek into the classroom to find the 5-year-olds on their morning break, eating and talking, a teacher with them who’s currently helping a little girl opening her bottle of apple juice. The same teacher your friend keeps telling you about, the same teacher everyone is in love with, according to her. Dean Winchester. She’s mentioned him so many times that his name is now seared into your brain.

“Can I help you?” His eyes find you, and right then it’s easy to figure out why the moms like him. He’s way too attractive.

Keep reading

I love you too

Dean x Reader

A/N: After all the tears and the heartbreak, I decided to write something a little less angsty. So, here you go. No one dies. No one is sick. Nothing like that. And there are lots of I love yous. Like a LOT.  Cause Dean deserves to be loved. 


The first time she says “I love you” is when he’s about to leave. “Drive safe. I love you.” It’s the last thing she planned to say, but it came out nevertheless - just her heart spilling its secret by accident. Her eyes widen when the words have left her mouth and already reached his ears, and she starts wondering if someone dropped her on her head as a child and damaged her brain somehow, because why else would she say something so stupid?

Dean freezes by the door and turns around, a question on his face that he voices soon enough. “What’d you say?”

His voice is soft, his expression unreadable, and she stammers over her words a few times before she’s able to form a complete sentence. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t love you.”

“Oh. Right,” he says and hides away any hope he’s ever had. Of course she doesn’t love him, he thinks. Why would she? He’s not lovable. He’s not anything. Just a broken mess on two legs. Who would ever love that?

“I mean, I do,” she continues. “Like a friend loves a friend. Like a sister loves a brother. You know, like that.”

Great. He was friend-zoned and brother-zoned in the span of half a minute. That’s awesome. He gives her a nod and then turns back towards the door. At least she loves him in some way, he thinks, and that’s better than nothing.

The second time she says “I love you” she’s in the middle of the street, and she speaks so loud that everyone turns to look at her.

“Okay, all right. Stop shouting,” Dean tells her, dragging her to his car.

“No, you don’t understand. I LOVE YOU.”

“Yeah, sure you do.” 

Keep reading

Look At Me - Request

Summary: Dean is on the phone and reader wants his attention so she makes him hang up to the person he’s talking to.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 1.946

Warnings: Not much plot, but loads of smut (rough, bit of spanking, bit of teasing, unprotected)

A/N: I turns out, I did have a Dean request among the Sherlock ones and just now I found out. 

Enjoy!

Originally posted by dean-winchester-crush

A case, a new threat, maybe just someone calling to say hi; it didn’t matter. She wanted attention, and she wanted it in that exact moment. He was at the library, and she was just at the door, preparing herself to get what she wanted.

“Yeah, sure…” Dean replied listlessly to whoever was on the other side of the line. He was writing something on a piece of paper, and (Y/N) didn’t mind to read it. “OK, yeah…” He continued.

(Y/N) took the pen (or was it a pencil?) out of his hand, throwing it behind her back, then she scrunched the piece of paper and threw it away as well, taking its place on the table to sit. Dean watched every move she made with his lips parted and his eyes focused.

“Jody, I will uh… I have to go…” And with that, Dean hanged up the phone.

“That was easier than expected.” She flirted.

“If my girl comes here wearing that… Everything is easy.” Dean whispered.

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Coming Out

Characters: Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader, Father!Sam x Daughter!Reader (Reader is a teenager, age not stated but arounbd 16 or 17)

Words: 1180

Summary: The reader talks to her uncle about figuring out her sexuality. Once she figures it out, she tells her dad that she’s bi-sexual. 

Warnings: talk about sexuality, crying, bi-sexuality 

Hey guys. This is a special story to me, very special. I wanted to write and post it this month because it’s Pride month, and it seems more than appropriate. I’ll talk more about it all at the end of the one shot, so enjoy. 

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