Summary:With the newlywed hunting humans caught, you and Dean Winchester need to address the drunken vows that neither of you can remember. A/N: It’s taken a hoe (me, I’m the hoe) literally four years, BUT HERE IT IS
You traced the pink, puckered scar that dragged down your abdomen and across your hip. It was an angry reminder that not every monster was actually a monster. Some were … human.
Annie and Henry had done it before. Each year for their anniversary, in fact. Eight couples in eight days in different cities around the world for twenty years. It had been nothing more than bad luck (for them) that you’d been in Vegas for your first vacation in years, that Sam had happened to talk to someone from Mount Charleston, and that you and Dean had said your drunken vows.
“Does it still hurt?” His fingers reached out to trace the scar just behind yours. It had been three weeks before Dean allowed you to even leave the room without him and twice as long before you could leave the bunker. Even now you could see the guilt and worry in his eyes.
“Not physically.”
“I liked her too,” he said after a beat of silence. Annie’s face looming over you had been worse than the cut itself. She had been so kind, and you had liked her in spite of the red flags her eager invitation had raised. Dean took your left hand in his, playing with the ring you still wore.
He hadn’t taken his off either. Neither of you had brought it up in the months following your run in with the serial killers. It had seemed unimportant then, such a trivial detail after your near death and the (sober) night together that had followed it.
– – –
“So get–“ You ignored Sam’s voice and the opening of the door, hands running down Dean’s chest before slipping beneath his shirt. “I’ll, uhm, I mean, uh, bye,” Sam stammered, neither you nor Dean paying any attention.
The sudden slam of the door, however, had caused you both to laugh. “Do you think we should apologize?” you asked, breathless as Dean moved his lips away from yours to trace down your neck. He was careful to avoid the fresh stitches, but the adrenaline had yet to wear off and you weren’t sure it would hurt anyway.
“Sam should know the risks he takes walking in on newlyweds without knocking,” Dean answered, silencing you with a kiss before you could question him again. “Sam should know the risks he takes walking in on you and me without knocking.”
– – –
“Are you ready for dinner?” Dean asked. You couldn’t help the smile that lit your face when he asked. Once you had healed enough to freely leave the bunker – and then waited another two weeks for Dean to agree that you had healed enough to freely leave the bunker – he had begun taking you to dinner every week, even during weeks when you were hunting.
More often than not, Sam would sequester himself to the library while Dean laid out a blanket on the floor or a tablecloth over the kitchen table and treated you to the latest recipe he’d discovered. During hunts, he would whatever meal you’d been craving and bring a movie to the hotel room you all shared and tell Sam to eat in his bed instead of on the couch with the two of you.
Dean had been … cautious on those nights. Holding your hand or wrapping his arms around your shoulders, but never leaning in to kiss you unless you moved toward him first. Instead he would fill the night with questions and honesty, asking you about your family, about yourself, and answering whatever questions you posed in return. The dinners never ended in either of your beds – although plenty of other nights did – and he had made a habit of reminding you that he “truly cared about you” before he left you at the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside your own.
It had taken a few weeks before you realized what was happening. Dean was dating you. Proper courting, dating you. Although the rings had gone unacknowledged, something had undeniably shifted. You no longer had two separate lives, but an unconventionally and admittedly confusingly tangled single life. Apparently, without vocal acknowledgement, you had decided together that the easiest way to untangle the mess you’d found yourselves in was to continue forward with the, again unspoken, acknowledgement that neither of you regretted it.
You and Dean had started dating, without ever saying a word to each other.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, standing and allowing the flannel with missing buttons to cover your scar again.
“A picnic.”
– – –
Sounds native to the countryside that had become home filled the air as you watched the sun set, content to lean against the man next to you and the impala behind him in comfortable silence. It had been the perfect picnic. Dean had bought your favorite sandwiches. You weren’t sure how he had slipped out of the bunker without you noticing, but he driven to town to get them. He had even stopped by the liquor store.
You felt a soft kiss in your hair before he spoke, and you shifted in his hold until you could look into his eyes. “You know how much I care about you, don’t you?” You ignored the pang of uncertainty at his words. It was always care and never love.
“As much as I care about you.” The silence that followed your words served only to intensify the ache to admit it was more than caring, but you were patient. You always had been with Dean.
Dean had been so careful with you since Annie and Henry. He had carried you around the bunker the first few days, refusing to let you stand on your own. He always hovered near you on hunts, although he knew better than to stop you from fighting. He was simultaneously softer and harder when you trained.
But the change hadn’t only been physical. You might not have noticed if it had been. Dean was always protective, and even more so after an injury, but it was more than that. He would speak slowly, as if weighing what each word meant. He was slow to respond when you reached out to him and quick to ensure it was what you truly wanted. He fought against his instinct to close himself off and forced vulnerability between you. You could see the battle in his eyes each time you asked him about himself.
– – –
You were lying in the bed of the honeymoon suite, half dressed, as Dean tended to the cut that had begun bleeding again. “Do you really not remember anything about that night in Vegas?” you asked, struggling to distract yourself from the sharp sting of his fingers.
“Nothing …” You could tell he was far more focused on his fingers than your conversation, and you struggled to think of some way to force him into saying more as pain momentarily clouded the room. “Just waking up next to a beautiful woman I somehow tricked into my bed.” His voice was quiet, distracted, as if he hadn’t realized that he said anything out loud.
His words surprised you. Enough that you didn’t feel him pressing wrapping a bandage around your middle until it caught against your fresh stitches. You hissed, and his eyes jumped to yours, suddenly focused again. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. There was nothing in the way he looked at you that hinted at the admission he’d just made. That he felt he had tricked you into his bed; that it wasn’t something you had wanted as well. Maybe he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
– – –
His quiet voice tore you from your reminiscing, from your reminder that Dean had believed you’d woken up in Vegas regretting him. He spoke slowly, brow furrowed in concentration as if struggled to find the right words, or struggling to remember them. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “After … everything that happened … waking up in Vegas … then nearly … nearly losing you … I wanted to be careful.” With this admission, something changed. Dean held you close to his side, and a hand rose to cup your cheek, his fingers playing along your temple as he continued. “There were so many questions, so many things we couldn’t talk about … but those things don’t really matter, and all that matters is that I love you and I need you to hear me say it.”
You didn’t hesitate, didn’t give him a moment to wonder if you had regretted him all those months before. “I love you too.”
Summary:Y/N prepares for the perfect Valentine’s day with Dean Winchester…
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The alarm clock blared and Y/N sat up in bed bleary eyed and fatigued.
She frowned at the ringing and reminded herself that she didn’t need to set the timer anymore. The Bunker had been empty for a while now and she didn’t have much to do without the boys around, anyway.
Y/N looked to her right and saw Dean’s side of the bed was vacant. “You’d think I would be used to that by now…” She stretched with a soft groan and stepped out from under her covers. It wasn’t until she checked her phone that she was finally spurred to action.
The screen read February fourteenth.
She gave a small smile at the date. “Well Dean, looks like you’re in luck!” With a renewed sense of purpose, Y/N set out to get her Valentine’s plans ready.
Every February fourteenth, Dean and Y/N would celebrate the holiday with all its clichés. Chocolate, romcoms, and a couple of beers was all it took to make the day a good one. Though their celebrations were modest, the way they saw it, having each other was enough.
Y/N walked over to her closet and put together an outfit. It was an important day and she had to dress accordingly. Once clothed, she gave a weary smile at her reflection and stepped away.
Y/N ambled down the Bunker’s empty hallways until she reached the main room. She fetched her keys, two bottles of beer she had laid out the night before, and a DVD copy of Say Anything before rushing out the door to meet Dean.
A crisp February wind met her outside and she squinted at the clear sky above. Y/N smiled at the perfect weather and stepped into her car. She turned on the ignition and let out a deep breath “Here I go,” she whispered.
Valentine’s Day, One Year Ago
“Though I respect your affections, couldn’t you perhaps ease your passions?”
Sam entered the room and rolled his eyes. “Guys, come on. Cas is right. Take it easy, we ALL live here.”
Dean and Y/N grinned from their spots on the couch. “It’s just a kiss Sammy. Get over yourself,” Dean chastised.
“You guys are making out in our movie room. It’s not just a kiss,” Sam retorted. He and Castiel weren’t really offended, but liked to nag whenever they could.
Y/N shifted in her seat and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Sorry guys. We can’t help it if we’re hopelessly in love with each other,” she teased.
Dean turned around and kissed her back. “That’s right,” he started. “Hopelesslyanddevastatingly in love…”
Sam and Castiel shared a look as the pair carried on from where they had left off. In each others arms and against each others lips. “Maybe we should-” Cas stammered. Sam nodded. “Right ahead of you.” The angel and the hunter spared a last smile at their friends before leaving the room and locking the door behind them.
“I think they’re gone…” Y/N mumbled mid kiss
Dean pulled back and winked. “I figured that would do the trick.”
Y/N laughed at his callousness and moved away from him. She lay down and settled her head on his lap.
“How’s the view from down there?” he asked.
“Spectacular.”
Dean frowned. “Honestly? You usually hit me with a testy one-liner.”
Y/N shrugged. “I’m serious. I’m getting a great look at the ceiling from this angle…”
“Yup. There it is.”
Y/N giggled. “I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” he laughed, leaning his head back on the couch.
Y/N grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed gently. “You totally did,” she admitted.
They stayed quiet for a moment, comfortable in their easy connection. Dean started humming and Y/N listened as the faint tune carried on. She closed her eyes and smiled. “What are you humming?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
He hesitated and Y/N opened her eyes, taking in the glint in his eye. “Mr. Roboto,” he said carefully. “Styx.”
Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that so?”
“Is that a problem?” Dean asked, glancing down at her.
“You mean, is it a problem that you only ever hum the same ten songs from eons ago?”
Dean raised a brow and hummed louder.
Y/N raised a hand and reached out to touch Dean’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. He sighed and leaned into her touch. “I know,” he said softly. “And you have no idea what that means to me.”
Y/N moved to sit up. She looked into his eyes and saw him staring back. “Happy Valentine’s day,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what this year will hold for us.”
Dean leaned forwards and kissed her lightly. “As long as you’re still by my side, I couldn’t give a damn.”
With their favourite movie playing in the background, and plenty of sweets and beer waiting on the table, the two hunters nestled against each other and took comfort in the small moment they shared together.
***
Y/N drove past vast green pastures and earthy plains before finally reaching a sparse forested area. She knew exactly where to find Dean and felt her heart race as she drew nearer to her destination. She parked her car and stepped out, taking her Valentine’s treats with her.
I wonder if Sam has passed by lately… Y/N thought as she walked down a woody path. She could hear the buzzing of insects as she hiked, the unlucky few that hadn’t left for the winter. Their humming sounded suspiciously like Dean’s beloved rock hits… Y/N hiked for the better part of an hour before entering a familiar clearing. It was there that she saw Dean waiting just up ahead, the grin she knew so well tugging at his lips.
“How’s the view from down there?”
Y/N felt her eyes sting as she stepped forwards, a shaky smile on her face. “Dean,” she said softly, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“And you have no idea what that means to me.”
Y/N walked towards the clearing’s centre. Her heart ached as she caught a flash of Dean’s laugh. She stopped when she reached a patch of blackened ground.
She knelt down before a heap of scorched wood. It had been months since she’d last been here and the ground was still stained with ash. She laid out the DVD and bottles of beer she had been holding. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she whispered.
Above Y/N, standing cold and out of place was a pyre. It had been months since she had lost Dean to the vampires and he had been laid to rest. She still remembered the night Sam had driven the Impala home, passenger seat, empty. He had left the Bunker shortly after and she hadn’t heard from him much since then. She winced and cast away the memory, thinking instead of her last Valentine’s with Dean. They had been hopeful then, trusting in their future. He had told her that day that he would be content so long as she stayed by his side.
Y/N looked up to the sky and closed her eyes, reveling in the sun’s soft touch upon her skin. She took a breath and spoke.
I have no idea why I did this. It sounded like a good idea at first but then by the end it was just too late to turn back. Don’t worry, I’m writing another Dean Winchester V-Day fic as we speak to atone for this one. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY YOU GUYS!!!!
If you’d like to be tagged in any future Supernatural fics, just tell me in the comments… or visit mytaglist! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Supernatural fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Dean, Christmas with TFW series, etc…)
Summary: Y/N has always dreamed of fighting alongside the Winchester brothers, but when they finally give her the chance to join the hunt, things don’t go as expected…
This is an angsty one…
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…
“Are you sure you’re up for this, kid?“ Dean asked, his tone laced with doubt.
Y/N crossed her arms and turned to Sam for support. "Tell him that I’m not as clueless as he thinks I am!”
“I don’t know, Y/N. Dean’s got a point. We just don’t think you’re ready for a real hunt yet. Maybe in time, with some more training?” Sam was trying to come off as earnest, but was sweating under Y/N’s pointed stare.
“I’ve been taking the backseat on every hunt for the past year,” she began slowly. “I’ve read the lore, done the research, and studied everything you two have taught me. I know what to expect!”
Dean shook his head and sighed. He fetched a beer from the cooler propped up against the car. “That’s all good in theory,” he said, cracking open the can and leaning against the Impala’s hood. “But it ain’t so clean cut in the thick of it. You’ve got book smarts, no one’s denying that, but you’re not cut out for a hands-on fight.”
Y/N felt something snap within her. Hunting was heroes work. It was a task that only the most skilled could endure. To hear the Winchesters tell her that she wasn’t a match for their lifestyle was a blow to her pride.
“I’m not asking for your permission,” she spat. “I’m not your sister and I’m sure as hell not your responsibility. I’ve been researching your cases for as long as I can remember, so it’s time you respected me as a member of the team.”
Y/N glared at the brothers, expecting them to challenge her. She was surprised by their grim silence, instead. “We do respect you,” Sam said softly. “It’s because we care about you that-”
“Forget it, Sammy,” Dean cut in. “I don’t think she understands. We’re past protecting her at this point. If this is what she wants, then let her have it.” He tossed his can across the gravel plot and stomped to the driver’s side. “We’re five miles from the wolf pack. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Dean scowled at Y/N before shutting the car door with a slam. Sam swallowed nervously and followed suit.
Although joining the brothers on a hunt was what Y/N had wanted, she felt hollow at the prospect of finally doing it. She assured herself that it would be a heroic endeavor and followed the Winchesters into the car. She knew what to expect. Everything would be fine.
…
His face was scarred and bloodied. His wide eyes held the broken promise of lost innocence. “Please,” he begged. “Please, I don’t want to die…”
Y/N gripped her blade tightly as the boy cowered below its tip. “You’re a monster,” she said more to herself than to him. The boy couldn’t have been a day over nineteen, with awkward bristles patching his chin, and the soft blush of youth still coating his cheeks. He was only a boy, but he was also a werewolf. A living contradiction that Y/N needed to end.
“What are you waiting for?” Dean yelled from across the field. “Kill it!” Y/N turned to the sound of his voice. The Winchesters fought back to back, defending each other’s rears as fanged creatures clawed from every side. The moonlight cast a bright glow on the land, contrasting the crimson stains on the shadowed earth.
Feeling pressured by Dean’s instruction, Y/N focused on the young monster before her and took a hesitant stab, missing his heart entirely. He cried out with pain and gripped at the blade impaled in his shoulder. Y/N froze, fear sapping her of the strength to pull back.
“Y/N!” Sam hollered. “Finish it!” She caught a flash of Sam’s wild eyes and pulled the silver blade back by reflex. The boy dropped to the ground and clutched at his wound. His face was pale and Y/N felt nauseated.
She saw his tear stained cheeks and the helplessness of his posture. She saw a reflection of herself. Frightened. Desperate. Hopeless. She raised the bloodstained blade in her hand but felt her fingers seize. It dropped to the ground with a clatter. The metallic resonance an echo of her crazed heartbeat. She couldn’t kill him.
She dropped to her knees.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix this.” Y/N leaned over the boy and pressed her hands against the wound to lessen the flow of blood.
She miscalculated.
The werewolf bared its fangs and lunged at her. It was a wounded animal trapped in a corner, unable to tell kindness from malice. Y/N struggled against it, her back against the dewy grass. The creature clawed at her chest, tearing streaks across her shirt. Her limbs turned to lead against the assault. She had seen the Winchesters fight foes before, but had underestimated the raw violence involved. “I’m trying to help you!” she cried. “Let me help you!”
The werewolf slashed at her with pure animal instinct. It was blind to her good intentions. It sought blood. Y/N arched her back against the grass as the creature craned forwards, its fangs grazing her neck. She pushed against its chest but lost strength as it inched closer.
“I just want to help,” she choked. The creature snarled and Y/N looked away from its yellowed eyes. Her grip against its chest faltered as her resilience dissipated. Her eyes screwed shut as she accepted the finality of what was to come.
She would not survive this hunt.
Heat slicked her cheeks. She cringed. Sam and Dean never cried. Sam and Dean never let the monsters get the better of them. Sam and Dean never lay down, accepting death.
She was not Sam or Dean.
She was not a hunter.
As these thoughts richocheted through her mind, Y/N felt the werewolf stiffen above her. She was sure that the monster had bitten her neck. In her rush, she must have stayed numb to the fatal wound. She kept her eyes closed, grateful for the painless kill.
A moment later, she heard the scrape of metal and felt the weight over her body lift.
She opened her eyes.
The werewolf boy lay dead beside her, the tip of a silver blade protruding from his heart. She turned her head and saw Sam and Dean, standing tall and bloodied above her.
Dean was glaring down at her and the kindness had left Sam’s eyes. In that moment, they were hunters. Nothing more.
She gasped when a rough hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her up from the ground. The Winchesters stared with hardened features.
“You almost died,” Sam said. “If Dean and I hadn’t come in time, that would have been it.”
Y/N hummed a response, still disoriented. Blood hummed in her veins. She could taste metal on her tongue. The air was thick with death and Y/N shuddered in spite of herself. She was buzzing.
Her eyes darted around the grassplot. Bodies littered the ground, and when she looked down, the glazed eyes of the dead boy monster stared back. Her eyes stung and tears trickled out, leaving a hot trail in their wake. She turned to the Winchesters, hoping for comfort, but saw indifference instead. Sam and Dean were unfazed by the massacre, immune to its horror. They were hardened by their years on the road, and could offer Y/N no sympathy after she ignored their warnings.
“I only wanted to help,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the young werewolf lying dead at her feet. “I thought I could help him…”
“Are you crazy?” Dean scoffed. “These things are monsters. They don’t need your help! In this job, you kill whatever goes bump in the night, end of story. The sooner you quit trying to be a hero, the better.” He shot her a look of disappointment and strode off.
Sam sighed. “We’re not trying to be hard on you, but this is it. You’ve hunted and seen it all. Are you satisfied?” He squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gravely and stepped past her to follow his brother.
Fled were the fantasies of hunting’s triumphs and honour. Y/N had learned the truth tonight. Hunting was a curse. A plague. A brutality. She watched as the Winchesters left her alone. She wanted to run away from them. She wanted to escape the pain, regret and humiliation she had brought upon herself. She wanted to escape the burden that weighed upon Sam and Dean Winchester.
Instead, she followed them.
She walked the stained path to the Impala and nodded at the boys up front. Moonlight glared from above. She climbed into the backseat and shut the car door with shaky hands. She listened to the rumble of the ignition and took one last glance at the remnants of her fist hunt.
This was just a spur of the moment fic, but don’t worry- ALL OUTSTANDING REQUESTS WILL BE POSTED NEXT WEEK!!
If you’d like to be tagged in any future Supernatural fics, just tell me in the comments… or visit my taglist! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Supernatural fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Dean, Christmas with TFW series, etc…)
The reader is terrified of thunderstorms and finds herself stuck home alone.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 718
Warnings: none ! mention of a knife but do you need a warning for that, dean is really just a thoughtful son of a bitch and i need someone like him in my life
A/N:I KNOW IVE BEEN GONE im sorry but im trying to get back on my writing bullshit and here i am pls enjoy this little tiny itty bitty drabble that i conjured out of thin air in the library instead of reading for my philosophy class <3
Lightning flashed, casting eerie shadows across your bedroom. You shuddered as thunder shook the house, pulling your covers closer to your trembling body.
“Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a storm,” you berated yourself. “You’ve killed demons and ghosts, but you can’t handle a little bit of thunder?” You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t, because it was true. You were terrified.
You were sure it stemmed from some traumatic event from your childhood that your mind had oh-so-conveniently blocked out over the years, but unfortunately, that didn’t stop you from almost crying out in fear with every roar of thunder. Usually, this wasn’t a problem because you were with the Winchester brothers, but you had sprained your ankle running through the woods during the last hunt, and you were currently sidelined, patiently waiting for them to return from their simple salt and burn over in the next state.
Dean had called earlier, informing you that they had finished and were going to wait out the storm before returning. Too embarrassed to ask him to drive back immediately so you wouldn’t be alone with the thunder, you gave him a shaky, “Okay,” and wished them a good night. But that was over four hours ago, and now it was nearly two o’clock and you desperately wished for a strong, comforting Winchester to cuddle with— Sam or Dean, either would work just fine.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, humming Metallica— a coping mechanism Dean had taught you years before— with no avail. You longed for the night to pass quickly, but it was clear that you would spend the rest of the night anxiously waiting for the next lightning strike followed by rumbling thunder.
You squeezed your eyes shut the next time it happened, giving into the urge to dive fully under the thick blankets. Your heartbeat had just begun to slow when your stomach dropped when the corner of your bed dipped. You froze, slowly sliding your hand to grip the dagger underneath your pillow. When something clasped around your ankle, you popped out from under the blanket, slicing your blade through the air towards the direction of your attacker. You would’ve met your mark too, if it weren’t for the warm hand that grabbed your wrist, deflecting your attack.
“Woah there sweetheart. You could take someone’s eye out,” Dean exclaimed, and your body shook from the adrenaline, fear, and growing fury.
“Dean! You scared the shit out of me! What the hell were you doing?” You placed your knife on the table next to your bed, flicking the lamp on before harshly smacking the man with a pillow.
“A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” he grumbled.
“Thank you?” You asked, incredulously. “Thank you for what? Sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, or ominously grabbing my ankle?” He furrowed his eyebrows.
“I thought you would’ve been happy to have some company, but I didn’t know if you were sleeping or not,” he said, his eyes lowering, and you softened at his words.
“Thank you for being here, but you should’ve known I was going to come at you with a knife. Youwere the one who taught me how to do that in the first place,” you recalled, and he rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t drive all this way to be abused and lectured.” He gave you a look. You sighed, and then had a startling realization that he was here. Dean was here.
“Why are you here? I thought you guys were spending the night in Nebraska,” you questioned.
“I didn’t feel right,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that you knew signaled his nervousness. “You hate thunderstorms and we were just going to leave you here alone?” The back of your throat tightened and you rapidly blinked away tears that quickly formed.
“You drove all that way,” you swallowed thickly, “for me?” He nodded solemnly, and your heart burst at the thought of him being worried to the point where he drove back in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm. You threw your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you.
“Thank you,” you whispered into the crook of his neck, and he squeezed you.
Summary: Stuck in motion for too long, Y/N tries to finally live for herself. That’s until she meets a man with crinkles around his eyes and a heart ready to do anything for her to love him.
Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader
Characters: Charlie Bradbury, Benny Lafitte, OMC, More as series progresses
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Drinking, Language, Toxic Relationship, More as series progresses
A/N: This is the first bit of writing I’ve had the courage to post, maybe you’ll see it. Maybe you won’t! But it feels good to get it out there. I hope you enjoy it!
