Summary: Dean’s upset when a Cupid marks him with an arrow but not his soulmate, or so he thinks. As he struggles to come to terms, he calls her everything other than her actual name, though maybe that’s just a part of getting struck by true love.
Warnings: language, name calling, kissing, implied smut (established friends with benefits relationship), fluff
A/N: Something silly just for fun. Enjoy… and Happy Valentine’s Day Written for @howbadcanitbebingo.
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“Stupid, Cupid.” Said Dean, walking into the motel room, stripping off his soaked jacket and throwing it onto the chair.
“What are you muttering over there, sourpuss?” You asked, pulling off your wet clothes since you guys had gotten caught in the rain chasing down the monster of the week.
Which turned out not to be the cupid you ran into, who of course Dean just had to go and make friends with. He wasn’t a fan and he made sure to tell you that every two minutes on the ride to the motel.
There wasn’t much privacy in the room to begin with and since the two of you had a sort of friends with benefits thing going on for a while now, you didn’t care to cover up. You’d certainly seen it all and so had Dean.
“Nothing, sweetheart.” He brushed you off, muttering under his breath, “…dumb, giant baby.”
With Valentine’s day fast approaching, Sam took some time off to go who knows where, doing who knows what with Eileen. Leaving you to deal with one very grumpy Dean. He’d been in a mood since the start of the case and there’d been nothing you could do to snap him out of it. And you tried everything, until you’d finally had enough of his attitude.
“That’s it! What is wrong with you, De?” You snapped, tossing your wet shirt at him, leaving you in your bra and jeans. It hit him in the face with a satisfying slap sound and you giggled at the face he made.
“I’m not even talking to you, nosy parker.” He stated, his eyes lingering a little too long on your chest to just be friends and he muttered again, “…frigging, wingless diaper muncher.”
“You’re obviously not talking to anyone else, old man.” You bickered, putting your hands on your hips and staring at him.
“Don’t start with me, sunshine- And you’re not a hell of a lot younger than me so I’d watch it, dollface.” He said, pulling off his wet shirts and tossing them in the pile on the ground with yours.
It was your turn to cast him a lingering glance. He was the perfect combination of soft and muscular and you bit your lip trying to trap a sigh. Your cheeks heating up too quickly, but he didn’t notice, too busy trying to hide his own growing feelings for you.
“I know but you get so angry when I call you a geezer. It’s adorable.” You smirked, you didn’t know why but you always loved teasing him when he was already annoyed.
“And you think that’s funny, little girl?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Uh-huh, plus I think you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered, tough guy.” You chuckled.
“I’m not the one who’s redder than a tomato right now, jiggles.” He pointed out, finally noticing the hue in your cheeks.
“Whatever, nipple sucker.”
“Hey. You like it when I do that, pumpkin.” He said matter-of-factly, his tongue peeking between his lips as he grinned at you and tilted his head.
“That was one time-”
“And every other time after that-”
“Shut up or it’s never happening again, dork.” You threatened, feeling even hotter than before.
“I can hold out a lot longer than you can, sweetness.” He bet, sliding his jeans down his thick thighs, leaving him in just his fitted red boxers. The ones with the little black hearts that you’d gotten him. He watched you squirm and bite the inside of your cheek as you filled with need. “Tough noogies, kitten.”
“Tease.” You called him.
“Brat.”
“Jerk.”
“Ass-butt.”
“Watch it, Dean, your Cas is showing… Hoser.” You muttered.
“Excuse me, peanut, what did you just call me?”
“…Honey.”
“That’s not what you said, darling.” He shook his head.
“How would you know, weirdo? You’ve been ignoring me all night; muttering insults every time you think I’m not listening, dick.” You cursed, finally calling him out on it.
“Not everything’s about you, cupcake.” He shook his head.
“Sure it’s not, babe.” You rolled your eyes, if it hadn’t been something you’d done, it had to be about you. Otherwise, you would’ve gotten it out of him by now, you always did. Sam called it your superpower. “You know I’ll get it out of you sooner or later, buddy, and I’d rather not do this all night. I’ve got other plans in store for you, big guy.”
“If you must know, princess, that damn cupid jabbed me with an arrow before he disappeared. So I’m not really in the mood for your teasing. Alright, buttercup?” Dean explained dryly.
“Alright… Why aren’t you with your soulmate then, Casanova?” You continued to tease ever so slightly.
“The butthead didn’t mark her. Said something about karma- I don’t know, he was still pissed that I punched in the face, the cry-baby.” Dean rolled his eyes, he never liked cupids, especially when they greeted him with a hug in their birthday suit no less.
“Oh… Are you sure about that, handsome? I mean, how do you even know who she is?” You asked, chewing on the edge of your thumbnail.
“Trust me, beautiful, I know. I felt it before he even touched me, it’s just more… intense now.” He said, his emerald eyes searching yours for something.
“So what are you gonna do about it, Romeo?” You egged him on, knowing exactly how he was feeling.
“Not much I can do, sugarplum.” Dean breathed with sad eyes, avoiding your gaze.
“You sure about that, stud muffin?” You asked, scrunching up your forehead.
“Yeah…” He sighed.
“Yeah?” You questioned, squinting up at him and grinning like an idiot.
“Uh- what are you getting at, chipmunk?” He replied, mirroring your grin after a moment.
“He marked me too, squirrel.” You admitted, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and letting it go slowly.
“When?!”
“While you were renting the room, dumby. Cupids don’t mess around with true love, love-bug.” You said, noticing a look of relief in his bright eyes, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “So, good-looking, you like me, eh?” You asked, wetting your lips in antici… -pation.
“Cuddle bug, you have no idea.” He breathed, closing the distance between you far too slowly for your liking.
“Why don’t you show me, squishy.” You pulled him down by the back of his neck and into a needy kiss.
His lips slipping between yours as he struggled to keep up, still shocked that you were actually meant for him this whole time. He loved the idea of that, belonging to each other after craving all of you for so long. You were written in the stars together.
“Pretty girl, wait.” He panted, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to feel your moist breath on his skin. He was having second thoughts already ‘cuz let’s face it, it’s Dean; he never thinks he’s good enough even when he most definitely is. “Maybe we should call Cas, maybe he can reverse this.”
“Is that even what you want, doofus?” You pleaded, just wanting to keep on kissing him.
“No, Y/N/N. Of course I want you, angel.” But he had to ask one last time. “You sure you want me for keeps, baby girl?”
“Shut up and kiss me, tiger.” You moaned, pulling him down to meet your lips again, letting out a small squeak when he nibbled on your bottom lip and unhooked your bra.
Warnings: ANGST, Dean’s a tiny bit of a dick, Depression, Thoughts of Suicide, Anxiety, Panic Attack, Self- Esteem Issues, Self- Depreciation, Lots More Angst, Mentions of Torture, Minor Fluff
Summary: After being captured by a demon and tortured for a couple of weeks, you were having trouble healing from the aftermath. The physical wounds may have healed but it doesn’t mean the ones on the inside had. The ones telling you that you’re never going to be enough. That you’re better off gone.
A/N: For the haters and the ones who gave up on me. For the ones that made me feel like I wasn’t enough. For the ones who hurt me so bad that I wanted to disappear. For the ones who claimed to be my friend and proved themselves otherwise. This one is for you.
You stood in the kitchen, dipping your tea bag into your favourite mug that you had picked up from the gas n’ sip somewhere in Portland a few years ago. It was close to midnight when you last checked your phone. It was hard to tell these days since the bunker had no windows. No natural sunlight got in. You were clad in one of your favourite oversized sweaters and a pair of plaid shorts that barely covered your ass, and a pair of knee high socks. Your typical bed attire for the most part. When you were on the road it was a little different. At home, you were more comfortable.
Summary: You found a magic lamp but without speaking your wish, it made your darkest desire happen.
Pairings: Demon!Dean x Reader x Michael!Dean
Warnings: smut, threesome, language
Word Count: 1335
A/N: To celebrate 9000 of y’all here’s a filthy story! I cannot thank you guys enough for all your support and love and I am so grateful for all of you! <3 Feedback is loved!
“Shit.” You whispered, looking around the bunker, dropping the lamp, “Dean?!” You screamed, your eyes adjusting to the red light emanating. “Dean?!” You screamed again, running through the halls until you reached the map room, immediately stopping in your tracks. Two sets of green eyes faced you. One looking dapper in a three piece suit and a flat cap, the other clad in the red shirt of sex and tight jeans, hair messed up in comparison to the sleekness of the one across him. Your mouth hung loosely, they were not Dean, yeah, but. One was being possessed by the archangel Michael, whilst the other was a full pledge Knight of Hell.
“Fuck,” You breathed.
“Lovely for you to join us, (y/n).” The angel smirked, the demon began to walk towards you. You couldn’t help your filthy thoughts from escaping your head. The demon smirked, the same lips as the other but he carried a different swagger only you knew he can carry. Demon Dean flashed you his black eyes as he grinned. “This is exactly what you want, babygirl?” He asked. “It’s quite specific, your wish.” Michael said, walking closer.
You couldn’t stop the arousal pooling on your lower regions and you knew they knew and suddenly a warm presence was making its way up your legs and your heat. “Very much aroused.” Michael snickered, tsk-ing. You were frozen on the spot and Deanmon stepped closer, running his cold fingers on your cheek before grasping your chin to lift up to look at him, his eyes dark with lust. “Such a filthy slut you are.” He said through gritted teeth, his eyes flickering back and forth yours, as if reading your mind.
You let out a sinful moan, your lip coming in between your teeth. Michael walked behind you, pulling your hair to the side, his lips attaching to your neck, immediately going to the spot only your Dean knew. You gasped, feeling him lick your sweet spot, prompting you to tilt your head to the side, giving him better access. His grace was still spreading warmth across your pussy, making you wetter, you were sure you’re soaking through your jeans.
Deanmon leaned down to your lips, kissing you obscenely, his tongue roaming your mouth, showing clear dominance that you want to submit to. Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly that you knew bruises would litter along their wake, and pulled you back against his chest and you can feel his growing member against your ass and as if your hand has a mind of it’s own, it started to descend in front of you, palming Deanmon’s evident bulge. “You want both of us, doll, how greedy of you.” Michael’s husky baritone sent shivers down your whole body, your legs trembling.
“You can get both of us, (y/n), you just got to work for it like the cockslut that you are.” Deanmon smirked before nipping and pulling at your lower lip. “Fuck yes.” You groaned and lowered to the ground, kneeling in between the tall men and the Deans pulled down their zippers and letting their rock hard dicks spring free. You grasped each one in your hand, barely fitting and took each one into your mouth. You started to move your hand on Michael’s length and you bobbed your head up and down on Deanmon’s length. You were letting out pornographic sounds that you thought you couldn’t even make and hearing the deep grunts of Michael as you switched your mouth to his and Deanmon’s sexual groan made you move your wrist faster.
Michael’s fingers ran through your hair close to your scalp and pulled, making you gasp a mixture of a moan and a whine. Deanmon smirked and grabbed your cheek. “Such a fucking slut.” He chuckled. He leaned down and lifted you up, making you yelp and he placed you on the edge of the table, you head hanging. “Wanna taste this fucking pussy while you get your mouth stuffed with Michael’s cock, you would like that won’t you?” Deanmon smirked but before you can reply, his tongue was slicking through your folds, causing you to moan, giving a chance for Michael to fill you up, effectively suppressing your loud gasp.
Your legs were shaking, wanting to close but Deanmon’s grip on them were tight, arms wrapped around each one, his shoulders effectively stopping you as well. Michael’s fingers tangled on your hair, holding your head still whilst his hips started to buck on their own accord. Your groans were suppressed, your eyes shut as pleasure erupted within your body, within your soul.You felt tingling sensations squeezing your breasts and you opened your eyes no hands touching you.
You looked up to Michael’s jaw slacking, his eyes closed as his breathing started to become erratic, you figured it was his grace. You looked down to Deanmon who had a smirk, his lips glistening with your come. “Ready to feel this fat cock buried deep inside your pussy?” He asked and all you could do was plead with your eyes and he gave you what you needed, thrusting deep. He didn’t give you a second to react because he was bucking his hips wildly, fucking you, making you scream. Michael smirked and pulled away, your scream echoing throughout the map room.
You looked up to Michael, who stroked his cock, wet with your saliva, watching your face contort in pleasure. Your pussy clenched around Deanmon’s cock and he grunted, flashing you his black eyes, his lips curved in cocky grin. “Ready to feel me come inside of you, babygirl?” He asked and you nodded. “Please, Dean!” You screamed and he grunted, his cock pulsing hot come inside you, coating your walls.
When Deanmon pulled away, Michael leaned down, kissing you. “Why don’t you kneel for me, doll?” He asked, his voice husky. You nodded, moving the best you could, going on all fours, exposing your heat to Michael. You started to feel his grace going up your thighs, then to your clit and you gasped, your leg giving out, if not for his hands gripping your hips, you would’ve collapsed.
Michael’s grace was teasing your clit when you felt him at your entrance, his cock stretching you once more. He grunted as he filled you to the hilt and you moaned out his name. He set out a controlled pace, hitting spots that made you scream and he went faster and faster. “M—Michael!” You grunted, falling on your forearms and you opened your eyes to see Deanmon sitting across you, fully clothed, just watching, smirking at your exhausted form.
You felt your fourth orgasm for the day linger. Michael smirked and worked on your clit, making his grace vibrate and you exploded. “Fuck!” You screamed, sweaty forehead against the table. “Gunna make me explode, doll, you want that? Want my come in there too?” He asked. “Yes! Yes—please!” You choked out.” “Greedy, greedy…” He tsked, his pace faltering, his grace vibrating harder and harder. Michael pulled multiple orgasms from you, your tightness pushing him to his release.
He groaned as he pulled out and you breathed heavily, laying on your back, spent and fucked out.
“Thanks for joining us, doll, til we fuckagain.” Michael smirked, his blue eyes shining, pulling you up, pressing his lips to yours, he moved away for Deanmon to do the same, pulling your lips against his teeth. “Til next time, babygirl.” He whispered, flashing you his demon eyes and they both disappeared.
You blinked your eyes and looked around to see yourself in bed, panting and worn out. You ran your hands through your head, the feeling of getting fucked by both still fresh in your mind and body, suddenly, the door opened and you looked up. Dean, your Dean, opened the door. “Hey, babe.” He greeted then cocked an eyebrow up. “You okay?” He asked, looking at your figure, concerned.
“Yeah, just had a weirddream, I guess.” You breathed.
A/N: so I’ve wanted to write this for a while, I kind of ended up taking a different route than I inteded to, but I hope y’all like it nonetheless
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
“I love you,” you beam at Dean, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head against his chest. He smiles back, putting down the flowers so he can put his arms around you as well. Three words. You must’ve said them to him a million times before by now, but they never lose meaning. He knew you meant them, even if he couldn’t reciprocate.
Out of the two of you, you were the first one to vocalize those words. The first one to tell him you loved him. Not saying ‘I love you’ in a friend kind of way, you’d done that at least a million times before, but really meaning it. In a ‘I love you. I love all of you and I never want to be without you’ kind of way. You’d barely given it any thought back then, you had known it was love from your side for a while, so the words rolled of your tongue easily. It wasn’t even on a date or during an anniversary. It was simply Dean walking in carrying two drinks and pizza. As he put down your food and drinks and sat down beside you on the bed, your knees touching, you looked besides you. Your eyes locking with his as the fond smile on your face grew wider. You’d grabbed his hand before speaking up and as you rested your head on his shoulder the words came right out. “I love you,” you mumbled, still clear enough for him to hear.
His body had stiffened under your touch as he heard you say those words out loud, your head suddenly feeling heavier than before. Unsure of what to do his mouth opened, but no words came out. Should he say it back? Was he supposed to? He wondered. Aside from the fact he never let a girl get this close, always breaking it off after a one-, sometimes two-, nightstand, he didn’t want to just say it. He’d seen people say those words too many times without meaning it. Seen those meaningful words turn into fake promises people decided too many times. He knew you meant it nonetheless, he didn’t doubt that, he just wasn’t sure he could do the same for you.
Dean’s silence instantly made you realize what you said and what the impact of those three, simple words were. And you knew all too well how he felt about the subject. It’d been the main point of a lot of late night conversations the two of you had after having had one too many to drink. “You don’t have to say it back,” you reassured him, giving his hand a soft squeeze as you did so. “I just want you to know that I do and that I mean it.”
“I know sweetheart,” he breathed out, his heart still rapidly beating but with a small smile on his face. Warmth spread through his body as he let the words and their meaning sink in.
After that day you’d let the words fall more often. Whenever you went on an errand and you kissed him goodbye, whenever he brought you flowers or food, whenever the two of you took a shower together, whenever he took you for a drive in Baby or just when you felt like it. He hadn’t said it back yet, but you didn’t mind. You knew he loved you too, even if he couldn’t tell you yet. They often say actions speak louder than words, and Dean’s actions definitely did.
Sometimes though, just sometimes, the fact he wasn’t able to tell you he loved you too got to your head. And today was one of those days. It’s not that you blamed him or wanted to force him into telling you, it was just that the voices in your head would tell you that maybe you’d been too confident. That maybe he didn’t love you after all. Because after all, why would he? No matter how hard you tried, on days like these you just couldn’t shut the voices out.
You’d felt yourself starting to slip away yesterday. But you played it off, telling Dean you were fine when he asked you if you were okay, hoping a night of sleep would make you feel better.
But when you woke up this morning your body felt heavy as your head felt clouded. You’d dragged yourself out of bed to get dressed and get yourself ready for your classes. Despite the hunting you still wanted to try and finish school, even if it would take a couple of years longer. This morning was one of the few times you were just slightly regretting that decision though.
You planted a quick kiss to Dean’s lips, who’d been watching you getting dressed while still being half-asleep himself, before telling him you’d be home late in the afternoon. You couldn’t get the other three words out.
School was a blur. Classes flew by, hardly interesting enough to keep your attention for longer than a few minutes. You tried to socialize but couldn’t find the words to join in on most of the conversations. You were thankful no one noticed though.
Now all you had to do was make it through the rest of the day without making Dean suspicious.
“Hey,” you say when you notice Dean sitting in the Map Room as you walk down the stairs of the Bunker. You sling your backpack over one of the chairs before hugging him from behind, shortly pecking his slightly stubbled cheek.
“Hi sweetheart,” he replies, pausing the video he was watching on his laptop before leaning his head back against your body. “How was school?”
You shrug, pulling away from him. “It was okay, I’m just gonna start on some homework,” you speak before turning on your heel and retreating to your room.
As soon as you’ve kicked off your shoes, letting your body fall straight onto the bed, not caring your clothes will get wrinkly or that it’s actually a bit of an awkward position you let yourself fall into, the door opens.
“You forgot your backpack,” you hear Dean’s voice muffled above you, amused at first but as he takes in your form you can practically hear the smile disappearing in his voice. “Sweetheart? You okay?” he follows up before you hear the soft thud of him putting your backpack down on the floor.
“I’m fine,” you mumble into the pillow, not wanting to turn around and face him.
“Are you?” The bed dips down beside you and you feel a warm hand being put on your lower back.
You sigh. So far for not making him notice anything. Him and his stupid hunter-senses. Or just you and your stupid forgetfulness. Doesn’t really matter which of the two it is, does it now?
So you sit up, figuring Dean’s not going away before figuring out what is going on with you anyways, resting your back against the headboard and tucking your knees up to your chest. “No,” you give in, voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been doing really good the past couple of weeks, despite school starting and my stress slightly increasing along with it. But it’s been great so far. Or I mean it was. Right now,” you hesitate, taking in a shaky breath. “It’s not going so great,” you finish.
“If I say something now, do you promise you’ll still tell me what’s bothering you afterwards?” Dean asks, as he starts playing with the bedsheets, suddenly looking nervous. When you don’t reply he tears his gaze away from the sheets to glance at you. “Do you?”
You sigh, shrugging but then nodding your head. “I will,” you confirm, not really wanting to talk about it still.
He nods as well. Sucking in another breath before speaking up again. “I love you,” he then speaks clearly, voice free of any doubts. “I love you.”
You can’t help the tears that fill up your eyes after hearing him speak those words. Upon seeing your tears he moves closer, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around you.
“I was afraid you didn’t,” you croaked, you didn’t want to admit those words out loud. But you had to, knowing you’d promised Dean to talk to him. You knew you could lie, but even if Dean believed you, what good would that do you? As you feel Dean pull away you’re reminded just exactly why you didn’t want to tell him this. You look at his face and it shows no emotion. You can clearly see the hurt in his eyes though, even though you know he’s trying his damnedest to hide it. You’ve always been able to read him better than he’d like to admit. But that worked both ways.
“I figured it was something like that, but I do mean it,” he reassures you. “Were you really? Questioning it, I mean” he then asks, studying your face as he does so.
“No.. yes,” you stutter, head hanging low as you feel tears burning in your eyes again. “No,” you then repeat, more sure of yourself this time, before you try to explain. “I don’t. Most of the time I don’t. I just.. Sometimes on the darker days these bad thoughts get to me and I have a hard time convincing myself that’s exactly what they are: bad thoughts. I guess I haven’t been doing a very good job at it, today especially,” you admit. And now you’re the one nervously playing with your hands.
Dean knew all about your mental health and about how dark it could get some days. And he understood, mostly because he knew exactly what it was like. But you still didn’t talk about it very often, simply because you felt you didn’t have to.
“Well, what’s bothering you sweetheart?” He genuinely asks, grabbing your hand to stop your fumbling. The thousands of electrical shocks his touch sends shooting up from your hand to your arm causing a small smile to appear on your lips. But the reality of the situation quickly causes that same smile to fade again.
“Nothing really,” you shrug. “I mean school’s good so far, the subjects are okay, there’s not too much homework and the people are nice. I have you guys here with me, practically on a permanent sleepover. I’m not even that stressed at the moment. There’s no reason for me to feel like this,” you state.
“But you do,” Dean concludes.
“Yeah,” you nod, slightly aggravated. Not with him, but with yourself and the way your brain’s wired. “The thoughts are getting pretty dark up here,” you say, pointing to your head. “I don’t feel too great in my body right now. And I’m having a really hard time seeing the point of it all.”
“Sweetheart,” he starts, using his all-time favourite nickname for you. “It sucks that you’re feeling like this right now, and if there was a way to take it all away you know I would. But you’ve been feeling good for quite a while too. Sometimes we need a bit of bad time, which will undeniably pass again, to appreciate the good times we’ve had. You just need to let yourself feel,” he tells you, his voice soft. He’s rubbing soft circles with his thumb on the palm of your hand. The gesture gives you something to focus on and calms you down at the same time.
“I just don’t want to get stuck in this again,” you admit, voice a whisper. You knew everyone had bad days every now and then. The thing was that for you, those days tended to turn into weeks, sometimes even months. And to say you didn’t want that to happen again was an understatement.
He clicks his tongue. “We’re just gonna have to take it one day at a time, Sweetheart. Don’t worry about tomorrow or how you’ll feel, that’s not going to make it better in any way. For all you know tomorrow could be the best day of your life. Just let yourself feel, and let life come the way it’s supposed to, and remember that you’re going to be okay,” he finishes, the determination in his voice actually making you believe that he could be right about all of this.
Hesitantly you tear your gaze away from your hands, looking up to face him. “You think so?” you ask in a small voice.
“I know so,” he answers, smiling encouragingly. “C’mere.” He opens up his arms for you to crawl into. Once in his embrace you burry your face in the crook of his neck, fitting perfectly, and breathe in his cologne. The smell of it, combined with the faint smell of gunpowder and cinnamon, instantly calming down your nerves. Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around you, making you feel as if nothing in the world can ever hurt you again, as if no bad thought will be able to break through his barrier. He always did have a way of making you feel better.
“Dean?” you speak up, mumbling into his neck.
He presses a kiss on your head before he hums in acknowledgment.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” you then say. Moving your mouth up to his ear so he’ll be able to hear you clearly.
Warnings: mention of periods.. if you’re grossed out by that you better not read this lol. Also fluff
Word count:2.5k
A/N:just wanted to take a quick second to welcome all my new followers and thank you guys for all the love I got on my recent oneshot. It seriously means the world to me <3
Also it was that time of the month a couple days back (this took a little longer to write since somehow it’s harder for me to write fluff, apologies about that, but we’ll deal with it) and this came out of it. Hope you guys enjoy
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
As you sit down on the toilet first thing in the morning, before starting up your usual routine to get ready for work, suddenly your behaviour from the past few days makes sense to you. You’d been craving chocolate more than you normally were and you’d been a bit too emotional for your liking. Worrying about things that were long overdue, your anxiety heightened up to the point you almost had a panic attack, and those weren’t the only examples.
Now naturally you worried about things, you were one to stress about things and feel anxious a lot, but it was only once every month these feelings reached their peak. And unfortunately that peak had started today. Easier said; you got your period.
You sigh, annoyed that it had to be today of all days, although when was it ever convenient, before doing your thing and getting up, washing your hands afterwards.
Both the Winchesters are still sound asleep as you make your way to the kitchen to eat breakfast and pack your bag. The desire to go straight back to your room and crawl back into bed with Dean, have him unconsciously wrap his arm loosely around your waist and pull your body closer to his, almost too strong to fight.
But eventually you make it through your routine, having brushed your teeth, combed your hair, put on your clothes, et cetera, and you head over to the place you work at. Mentally preparing yourself for the workload you’re going to have to deal with and the cramps that are undoubtedly going to show up soon.
A couple of hours later and you decide that you actually made it through the day relatively well. I mean you bled through your pad twice, but aside from that.. relatively good. You’re still relieved when you glance at the digital clock and see your shift has ended, ready to go home and change.
As quick as you can, without making it look like you’re toodesperate to go home, you grab your stuff and say goodbye to your colleagues, saying you’ll see them tomorrow, and then you’re on your way. As you sit in your car, making the 20 minute drive back to the Bunker, you already feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You briefly examine your nails, two of them having been ruined due to the work you had to do today, and you roll your eyes while an annoyed sigh leaves your lips. Add that to the list of things that suck today.
At least you manage to park your car in the Bunker’s garage without any further complications. You hop out with even less grace than usual, your cramps for the first time today really bothering you, and close the car door behind you. When entering the Bunker, you’re met with a delicious smell that makes its way up your nostrils and you frown. It’s not like you don’t enjoy the smell, but today was supposed to be your day to cook. A while ago Sam had insisted on making up a weekly schedule, the three of you taking turns at cooking, simply because up ‘till then Dean had made dinner almost every day and there rarely was a day you didn’t have burgers. It’s not like you were complaining about that but Sam, being the health freak that he is, insisted on eating salad and other ‘healthy food’ as well. The only way he’d get that done, is to cook it himself. That’s why you took up Tuesdays and Thursdays to make dinner, while Dean took Mondays and Fridays with Sam taking the remaining days. The three of you decided on ordering take-out at least once a week just for the sake of all cooking the same amount of days, that being when you were actually staying at the Bunker. As soon as the three of you were out on a hunt you’d spent your evening and the majority of the night at the café, if you weren’t out ganking monsters.
That’s why it’s not supposed to smell like delicious, home-made food right now. It’s supposed to smell like gun powder and old books. It’s supposed to smell just as it always does. Suspiciously, wanting to investigate the situation further, you follow your nose and make your way to the kitchen were you find Dean, oven gloves on just as he pulls the hotplate out of the oven.
“Hey,” you say, announcing your presence, as you lean against the doorframe with your arms crossed in front of your chest. A fond smile on your lips as you see the man you love handling his way around the kitchen so effortlessly. “Watcha doin’?” you ask.
“Hi,” he affectionately replies after putting down the plate, revealing a perfectly shaped and baked home-made pizza with all your favourite toppings. “Just making us dinner,” he shrugs, taking off the gloves and making his way over to where you’re standing to press a soft kiss against your lips.
“But it’s my day to cook,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls away and you look up at him, once again unable to repress a smile from gracing your lips.
“I know,” Dean answers. “I just felt like making pizza, thought you deserved it after working all day. Speaking of, how was work?” he asks just like he does every day, never growing tired of hearing you talk about it. Whether it was just you complaining about whatever it was your boss made you do, telling him about the things that went well or the hardships you faced, or just sharing something that happened to or with colleagues. He knew you loved your work. And he loved hearing you talk about the things you loved. He loved the smile and the twinkle in your eyes that would always break through and light up your entire face.
“It was okay,” you assure. “Just fixing up some loose ends for the boss, you know how it goes over there, glad I’m home now though,” you state, not wanting to go into too much details about how your day was.
Dean smiles. “Sounds okay.. How ‘bout this,” he continues. “You get out of those work clothes and change into something more comfortable and I’ll grab us some drinks and call Sam so we can eat?”
You simply nod, pushing yourself up on your toes to press another quick kiss against his lips before letting go and walking towards your bedroom to change into your favourite pair of sweatpants and a hoodie you’d stolen from Dean ages ago. You don’t bother fixing your hair or taking off your make up, telling yourself you’ll do that later tonight. Though in all honesty, knowing yourself, you probably won’t.
When returning you find Sam and Dean already waiting for you, gathered around the table with a couple of slices of pizza and a drink, the same thing waiting for you in front of your chair. You sit down, mumbling a ‘bon appetite’ before diving in, enjoying the perfect flavour of Dean’s cooking skills.
Later that night you’re snuggled up with Dean in your bed. He’s resting his head against the headboard while you have your head positioned against his chest. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, while yours is wrapped around his waist. Dean has his laptop resting on his legs, the device playing a movie you let him pick. You’re not entirely sure which movie it is you’re watching, aside from the fact that it’s no horror movie. Despite the fact that it’s Dean’s favourite genre of movies, and the fact that half of the time your life literally is a horror movie, you’re not that big of a fan. You’re pretty sure it’s A Few Good Man though, since you’ve seen Tom Cruise pop up on the screen a couple of times. The dude has been in probably a million of movies so that doesn’t say all too much but it does narrow the window down a little, so your pretty sure of yourself on this one.
As comfortable as you are just laying there, Dean’s fingertips rubbing soft circles on your arm while you listen to the sound of his heart rhythmically beating against his chest, you have to go to the bathroom and do your business. You gave up on following the movie anyways. That’s why you push yourself off of the bed, immediately missing the warmth Dean provided you with, as you mutter “I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later and you’ve made it to the bathroom without any incidents. As you shut the door behind your back you instantly notice the new box with pads you always use. That box hadn’t been there this morning. It was the reason you’d planned to go on a supply run tomorrow, after making sure you had enough to make it through today of course. But seeing that there was now a new box that wouldn’t be necessary anymore. Partially you were glad about that. At least you were good for the next couple of days and you wouldn’t have to go to the store in your work clothes. At the same time you are also a little disappointed. Having to buy pads had also given you an excuse to walk by the sweet shop section and buy yourself a bunch of your favourite chocolate and candy. Now you didn’t really have that excuse anymore.
But this meant Dean had to have bought it for you when he went out to buy everything he needed for his pizza today.
“Dean?” you ask after entering the bedroom again.
“Hmm?” he responds without tearing his gaze off of the screen, too invested in what’s going on on there. You can make out a lot of grunts and the sound of people getting either hit or shot so he’s probably in the middle of a fight scene.
“Did you buy pads for me today? Because I swear this morning I was running out so I made a mental note to go buy some tomorrow,” you ramble, Dean looking up, having paused the movie, at the mention of your period.
“I-uh, yeah,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck. You and Dean had been dating for a couple of months now, but your period hadn’t really come up until now. It’s not like it was really necessary or like you felt like giving him all the details. Partly because you weren’t sure where Dean stood on the subject. Guys could be horribly, and, mind you, unnecessarily, grossed out by the monthly occurrence and you didn’t want him to feel awkward. Of course as a loving boyfriend he’d warmed up your heating pad for you when your stomach or back was aching or got you some medicine a couple of times before, but that was really as far as it went. “I noticed we had a Code Red this morning and that you were running out so since I was going to the store anyways I figured I could just.. get you some. I made sure I bought the right ones, I even asked an employee,” he explains, only mildly nervous. “Hope that’s okay.”
You know you should be grateful and awestruck at the fact that your boyfriend noticed all this and went out of his way to get you what you needed, and even without you having to ask for it, but you can’t help but chuckle as his term for you period sinks in. Over the years you’d given it several names, you’d heard different women calling it different ways. But ‘Code Red’ definitely was a new one.
The dumbstruck expression that overtakes his face instantly makes you feel guilty about that though. “It’s okay. It’s more than okay,” you say as you sit down on the bed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “So.. you’re not grossed out by this or anything? I-I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things you don’t want to do,” you ask, making sure to monitor his face and his expressions just so you can make sure he isn’t lying. He was a damn good liar but over the past couple of months you’d picked up on a few little quirks, or rather ‘defects’ as he called them. It’s not like you didn’t trust him, sometimes he just tended to.. bend the truth a little bit, all on your behalf of course. And right now you just needed to know what he was really thinking.
“No,” he firmly says, his tone and expression deadly serious as he looks at you. “There’s nothing to be grossed out about. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s merely a monthly occurrence of the female body. Yeah you might get a little bit moody or emotional, your back might hurt or your stomach or your head. But that’s what I’m here for. I got you, and I got you every day of the month,” he states as he reaches for your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. You’d watched his face as he answered your question and you were sure he hadn’t lied for one second. Being completely genuine and meaning everything he had just told you. And as you make that realization your entire body goes warm inside, the love you feel for him right at that instant warming you up entirely. And you feel incredibly lucky to have him as your boyfriend.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, and you can’t help yourself but having to blink away a few tears. Blame that on your period. “Thank you,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose against his neck before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
“I also got you this,” Dean says, pulling away from you carefully as he reaches for something besides the bed. You hear the rustling of the plastic bag he pulls up before he hands it to you. Inside you notice all your favourite kinds of chocolate and candy and a couple of cans of your favourite drink. “There’s also a tub of ice cream in the freezer,” he adds.
“Dean..” you say thickly, tears once again welling up in your eyes as you breathe out another thank you. “I love you,” you tell him, giving him another hug.
“’Course sweetheart,” he smiles. “No problem, I got you, remember? Is there anything else I can do? Do you have pain anywhere?” he asks, looking you over probably to check if you’re clutching your stomach or back, looking for any sign that you’re in pain. As he looks up again, not having found any, he sees you shaking your head and he relaxes glad that at least for now you’re feeling okay.
“Just wanna lay down with you,” you acknowledge, to which Dean immediately sits back against the headboard again and opens up his arms for you to crawl into. He wraps both his arms around you as you lean down against his chest, getting comfortable, and presses a soft kiss against your temple.
You sit just like that for a while, neither of you starting the movie again. Instead the two of you just enjoy the comfortable silence and the feeling of your bodies touching, fitting perfectly together.
“So Code Red, hm?” you speak up after a while, again unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is that what we’re calling it from now on?”
This time Dean can’t help himself but chuckle too. “’Got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Warnings:Angst.. little bit of language but like you’ll miss it if you blink
Word count:2.1k
A/N:It’s been a hot minute since I posted a oneshot on here.. It’s not like I stopped writing, it’s just that the stuff I wrote about was really personal and I didn’t really feel like sharing all that on social media. But I’m trying to get into writing ‘normal’ oneshots again. So here we go :)
Also, while writing this I listened to the song ‘Hands’ by ORKID (hence the title) so to really get into the feels you might want to listen to that while reading this.
*I do not own any Supernatural characters and/or gifs I may use*
“I don’t love you. I never have,” Dean flatly states. Neither his voice nor his face showing any sign of emotion as he spits those words out. As if they wouldn’t turn your entire world upside down. As if they meant nothing, as if you meant nothing.
He had to be lying. Either that, or he had been lying for the past six months straight. He had to have been lying the day you met him at the café you work at, when he ordered two coffees and a slice of cherry pie and flirtatiously told you you looked beautiful as a smirk graced his perfectly chiselled face. Right before he took his coffee and pie he slid his napkin towards you with a wink. Looking down you noticed the sloppy numbers that were hastily written down on it. The black contrasting against the off-white napkin.
He had to have been lying when he took you on your first date, just one day after you decided to take the risk and call the number he gave you. Taking you to a fancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner whilst telling you how you made him feel like no one else ever had, a blush creeping up his neck as he admitted those words out loud. You spent the night getting to know each other, cracking jokes and holding hands and even sharing dessert afterwards. He leaned in as he whispered he never shared his pie with anyone, but for you he’d make an exception.
And he had to have been lying on all the dates that followed. The time he asked you to be his, the first time he told you he loved you, the time he promised you it was the two of you against the world.
You remembered the last date the two of you went on. Merely two weeks ago he surprised you after you came home from a long day of work, telling you to put on some comfy clothes. You begged him to tell you where the two of you were going but he gave you nothing. He simply laughed as you tried all your persuasion techniques on him, pulling you closer and pressing a feather light kiss against your forehead before whispering “you’ll see,” and as you felt his lips curl up in a smile against your skin you couldn’t help but smile as well, surrendering and deciding to just put on some yoga pants and a flannel you’d stolen from Dean. Again he told you you looked beautiful. Told you that you looked better in that flannel than he ever had, or ever would. He took your hand and led you to his black impala, holding the door to the passengers seat open for you and shutting it after you’d gotten in. The whole ride through he continued to hold your hand, his other hand resting on the steering wheel. By the time he pulled over and cut off the engine it was a little after eleven and the sky had darkened, making way for at least a million of brightly shining stars. Dean pulled a blanket over the hood of his car so the two of you could sit down. He’d pulled your body into his and wrapped his arms tightly around you, providing you with just enough heat to not get cold, and the two of you spent the night stargazing. Every now and then one of you would point up, wanting to point out a star that seemed to shine just a little brighter than the others. Just as you’d started to drift off his lips moved towards your ear. “I’m yours. I’m all yours, sweetheart. Ain’t no one ever going to take you away from me,” he whispered, the feeling of his lips so close to your ear, his breath fanning your skin, making goose bumps spread all over your body. “I’ll stay by your side, always,” a smile spread across your face as you let yourself fall away in a peaceful slumber, his words still dancing in the back of your head. It didn’t take long before your head softly fell against his as you failed to keep it up any longer.
Every word, every touch, every smile. He’d have to been lying through his teeth.
At first you refuse to believe him, desperately scouring his face for a sign that he is indeed lying. You search for the sparkle in his eyes you normally notice when he’s cracking one of his horrible jokes, the fine wrinkles around his eyes that only appear when he genuinely smiles or laughs, or even a smirk, indicating he’s just fooling around. But you find nothing of the sort. It’s like staring at a brick wall, you see the cold, blank exterior but you don’t have a single fucking clue what is going on behind it. Likewise, Dean shows you a blank face, giving you zero indication of what is going on behind those eyes, inside his head.
And slowly the reality of the situation starts to dawn on you. Right then, right there, all you want to do is scream. Make sure everyone, all over town, can hear you. Make sure everyone knows. But you stay still. Your body trembling, but still. You shake your head. “No,” you bring out, hating how broken you sound. You feel tears coming up, but you will them away, refusing to cry, to break down, in front of him like you had many times before. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it is, we can fix this,” you desperately try. But you know damn well you’re lying, both to him and yourself. You reach for his hands, hoping your touch will solve it all. Make him feel anything, make him love you again. Make the truth disappear. But his hands feel unusually cold in yours.
“I was only pretending,” he declares, yet making no effort to pull back his hands. “You can’t really blame me can you? You can only blame yourself,” he goes on, his words growing bolder, harsher. He looks you dead in the eyes as he spits out those words and you feel your heart breaking a little more with every word that leaves his mouth. Making it impossible for you to hold back your tears any longer, feeling them fill up your eyes.
You wished you could hate him right now. Let go of his hands, that seem to be growing colder by the second, and throw him out instead of seeing him leave. But truth is, you don’t. Because while he may have been pretending, you sure as hell didn’t. You loved him. You loved him like you had never loved anyone else before. You’d felt a spark ignite that day he ordered his coffees and pie, fuelled by the fact that he gave you his number. And after that first date you knew you were a goner. You loved him even before he asked you to be his girl, you loved him before the hugs, the flowers, the late night walks or car rides, before you even knew if he loved you back. Every moment made that spark burn brighter, stronger. And right now you couldn’t simply extinguish it, leaving yourself with nothing but ashes and thick, suffocating smoke. You’d figured you shouldn’t have to, fully convinced that he would stay right here by your side like he promised. That the vows he made to you actually meant something.
God had you been wrong.
“So what happens now?” you ask, trying to keep the pain out of your voice, clenching your jaw as you attempt to keep your lip from trembling also. But Dean stays dead silent.
“Why would you leave me when you said you were mine?” you follow up your previous question as you conclude Dean isn’t going to provide you with any kind of answer.
Again, no answer. “Please just let me go,” is all he says. And with those words he pulls his hands out of yours. His hands even colder now, your hands unable to warm them like you had been before. He takes a few steps back, the sound of his shoes making contact with the wooden floor beneath them sounding hollow in the silence that is shared between the two of you, before turning around and walking out of the door without looking back.
You watch him walk away without saying another word and as you hear the door fall shut behind him you finally allow yourself to let the tears fall freely. Your knees buckle from underneath you and with no one there to catch you you fall to the floor, a raspy sob racking your body as you bury your head in your hands. You feel empty. Your entire body aching. The fire Dean had ignited now feeling like it’s burning right through you. The floor feels hard and cold against your knees but you’re unable to move. Unable to do anything but let the tears cascade down your face.
A few meters away, just from outside the door, Dean hears a soft thud as you fall to the floor. He hears the heart-breaking sob that starts your breakdown and hears the ones that follow. And it breaks his heart, more than it had already been broken. But there was no choice, he had to do this. He has to protect you. And the only way for him to do that is to keep you out of his world, away from the monsters. He’d rather have the both of you hurting, but with you alive, instead of spending the next few months with you but finding you dead one day after coming home. He’d seen too many people around him die; his parents, Charlie, Kevin, hell, even Crowley. He knew death came with the job description. The lifespan of the average hunter wasn’t very long, the better part of them getting killed during a hunt one way or another, sooner or later. He couldn’t get you involved. He couldn’t see you lose your life, too.
After listening to you for a little while longer, whispering useless ‘sorry’s’ and praying to whatever or whoever was listening that you’d be okay, he makes his way down the driveway to the street just around the corner where Sam is waiting for him. As he walks away, looking over his shoulder to the house he shared with the one girl he truly loved more than anything for the last time, a single tear leaves the corner of his eye and makes its way down his face. The heartbreak he feels is making it almost impossible for him to keep walking. But he has to. He knows that if he stops now, turns around one more time, he’s going to make his way right back to you. Tell you he was lying when he told you he didn’t love you. Tell you that he really does love you more than anything.
But if he wants to keep you save that’s not a possibility. So he keeps walking, shoulders drooped, head hanging low. He wipes away his tears before getting into the driver’s seat of Baby. Refusing to make eye contact with Sam.
“Dean..” Sam tries, but Dean immediately cuts him off.
“No,” he says, harshly. “This is the only way. I am not pulling her into this world,” he argues. “I can’t,” Dean mumbles, voice sounding wobbly. He’s practically begging Sam not to go against him on this one. He’s got his mind made up, nothing Sam will say to him is going to change that and he’d rather get out of this town as fast as possible. To leave the memories, the feelings, all of it behind.
To leave you behind.
His hands are freezing now. He genuinely doubts they’ll ever warm up again now you’re not here to warm them anymore. As he puts his key in the ignition memories of the two of you sitting in his car flood his mind. All the times the two of you pointlessly drove around, him driving of course and you occupying the seat Sam was now sitting in. All the times he held your hand while driving, the times the two of you were shamelessly singing along to your favourite songs and the times you talked, whether it was just mindless chatter or deep conversations late at night, they wash over him, suffocating him as he struggles to keep his head up. He takes in a sharp breath, shrugging off the urge to cry as best as he can, before he turns on the car and drives off. Away from the house, the street, the town, he considered home. Away from you.
He sure as hell hopes he did the right thing. Because if he could be sure of anything his head was telling him right now, it’s that there’s no coming back from this.
A/N: soo I mainly wrote this for myself ‘cause I needed this. But I figured there are probably more people who could use a message like this, so I hope it helps. And if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m always just a message away <3
*I do not own any Supernatural characters or gifs I may use*
You’d started slipping back into your old habits again.
It usually went like this. You were happy for a while. But then slowly that happiness started to fade out and it’d slowly get replaced by a much sadder, heavier feeling that would weigh down on you. You’d take that weight with you for a while, hoping it would get better. At the same time knowing that it wouldn’t, but you being you, you refused to talk to anyone about it. As you carried on that weight would get heavier and heavier. And that’s when you started finding your escape in your old, nasty habits.
It usually takes a couple of weeks and a few break downs before you completely break down and everything that you’d been holding in comes rushing out during one late night conversation. Usually with Dean.
Right now you were past the heavy feeling. Past the old habits. Even way past the breakdowns. You’d broken down more times than you could count and yet the words wouldn’t come. You weren’t allowing them to.
Not that it really made a difference right now. Sam and Dean were out on a hunt, which left you to be alone in the bunker. Even if you’d wanted to talk about it, there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to. You didn’t really have any close friends aside from the Winchesters. At least not close enough for you to confide in about this subject.
They’d asked you to come along, Dean especially pointing out they could use you. But you couldn’t get yourself to believe him. You knew you’d only slow them down. And you just couldn’t get yourself to care enough to come and act like everything was alright. So you came up with a weak excuse, that you knew neither of them believed but luckily they didn’t push you.
And that left you where you were right now.
Sitting in one of the armchairs in the library. An abandoned book laying on the floor, a cup of tea standing cold and forgotten on the side table. You’d been sitting in the same place, in the same position for the past three hours at least, constantly alternating between blankly staring at the wall and pointlessly scrolling through your Instagram. Your knees have been hurting for the past hour, but still you don’t move.
Eventually though, you unfold your legs from underneath you and get up, having decided on just going to sleep. You leave everything as it is and go straight to your room.
As you shut your bedroom door behind you though, your eyes instantly fall on something white laying at the edge of your bed. Now, there might be clothes laying all over the floor, your desk might be a mess, but you sure as hell know that that wasn’t there when you left your room earlier.
You approach and pick it up, noticing it’s an envelope with your name written on it. Sitting down you open it and slide out a piece of paper, your eyes darting over what’s written down on it.
Hey sweetheart,
I know you haven’t been feeling like yourself lately and I know you have been keeping it all to yourself. Maybe it’s just because you don’t want to talk, or it’s because you want to be strong and don’t want to bother us. That’s why you put up your brave face, act casually as if nothing is wrong. But I know there’s something behind that façade, I know something’s going on in that pretty head of yours.
You’re the one person who’s always there for me and Sammy when we need someone. You always do these little things for us, like putting Sammy’s favourite book on top on his pile of never ending books just so its easier for him to grab it or asking me to take you for a drive when you know it’s really me who needs to clear their head. You always notice when something is going on and offer us a shoulder to cry on, not once judging us for it.
Yet you never admit it yourself. You’re always ‘good’ or ‘fine’ or ‘just a bit tired’. You don’t have to be the one that’s always okay. You don’t have to be the one who can’t fall apart just so we can. It’s okay not to be okay.
I know you’ve been through so much already and that sometimes you don’t see a light at the end of this tunnel, but sweetheart me and Sammy? We got you. We can put your favourite book on top as well, I can take you for a drive when you need it. We will sit with you and we’ll stay. Because we’re family, and that’s what family does.
So sweetheart know that, whatever is going on, we’re here for you. Just don’t give up. You are the strongest, sweetest, most beautiful woman I have ever met and I need you to just hold on. If you can’t do it for yourself then do it for me. Do it for Sammy.
Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Smut
Summary: After spending the summer in Lawrence for a so called “change of scenery”. Y/N has found herself in a healthy, loving relationship with Dean Winchester. Her rocky relationship with her father, Bobby Singer has just started to blossom. But leaving one life and starting to build another isn’t as easy as it seems. Everyone has a past and secrets they don’t want others to know. One chapter ends. Another begins.
A/N: This journey is just getting started!! If you would like to continue, please help ya girl out and tell her (me) what you think :) Feedback is my favourite!!
This is purely based off of a research. I have never been to vegas so I know nothing about what it’s actually like there.
You woke up to a pounding sensation in your head. It had been a while since you had drank that much and even longer since you had felt a hangover. The hotel room filled with the morning light, irritating your eyes.
You felt the bed shift next to you, earning a groan to escape out of your mouth. You thanked whatever higher power that made sure your hangover didn’t feel like you were going to throw up.
“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
Summary: After spending the summer in Lawrence for a so called “change of scenery”. Y/N has found herself in a healthy, loving relationship with Dean Winchester. Her rocky relationship with her father, Bobby Singer has just started to blossom. But leaving one life and starting to build another isn’t as easy as it seems. Everyone has a past and secrets they don’t want others to know. One chapter ends. Another begins.
A/N: Here is Part 1. I hope y’all will enjoy this sequel series that over 400 of you voted for! I think it’s safe to say I’m a little nervous about this. Feedback is greatly appreciate and what will keep this series going!
A layer of sweat covered your body as you twitched in the sheets that rested over you. Your eyes flew open as a panicked feeling took over your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest, you felt shaky and like every nerve in your body was on edge. The room was dark and you took in a deep breath trying to get yourself under control when you realized where you were. You were home. Dean was sleeping right next to you. You were safe, you repeated to yourself. Dean wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. Dean wasn’t going to let Gordon hurt you if he had anything to say about it.
You slipped out of the bed, your feet touching the carpet floor as you patted your way out of the bedroom. You didn’t want to bother Dean in the middle of the night, not about this. He just got you back after all. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a week and you didn’t want to ruin another for him. You didn’t want him to worry about you, not more than he already was.
i know this has been out a while already but since life has calmed down for a couple seconds i’d like to come back and say i absolutely looooveeedd summer fling & im super excited to see where more than a fling will go!!! everybody go read this & send @supernatural-jackles lots & lots of love !!!!!!
