Summary: Y/N remembers Dean and the Impala through the years
Warnings/Explicit 18+: Implied smut. Kissing. First kisses.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N
Word Count: 499
A/N: This fic is being written for @impala-dreamer 's Drabble Challenge. I selected the prompt, In the Impala. Hope you enjoy! 💓
The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89
My heart was lost and found in the Impala.
When we were kids and our Dads would hunt together, the three of us would often get dropped off someplace, and I remember being crowded in the backseat, squished up between Dean and Sam, a buffer for their bickering.
I remember being taken for ice creams as a treat when Dad and John came home safe, and found that we'd all behaved ourselves and were in one piece.
We got to drive fast down the highway with the windows rolled all the way down, wind whipping my hair across my cheeks, and into my sticky, melting ice cream.
I think I fell in love with Dean that afternoon when I was twelve. He was thirteen and beautiful, all glittering green eyes, tan skin, and a white smile that flashed wide as he laughed at me and the sticky mess on my cheeks.
When I was fifteen, he showed up at my motel room one night, all alone in the Impala. I was alone too and he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. I didn't hesitate for a moment.
There was something chasing him that night, some fear or horror that he needed to bolt from, and I wanted to run with him.
He sang along loudly to AC/DC on the radio. I didn't know the words, and Dean wasn't a good singer, but it was the best music I'd ever heard; it sounded like freedom and speed and dangerous things that gave me butterflies, just like the boy driving next to me.
Dean gave me my first kiss that night, reclining on the cold metal hood of the Impala. I cuddled close to him, pretending a chill and hoping he'd take the hint. He did, and the chills became real as he pressed his soft, closed lips to mine.
It made my cheeks flush and my mouth get warm and tingly, and when Dean pressed his tongue tentatively to my lips, I opened gladly for him and felt a new and unfamiliar heat start to build in the center of me as he trailed the tip of his tongue along the roof of my mouth.
Our first hunt together when I was eighteen years old, ended with us in the back seat, making love for the first time. It was crowded and awkward, a lot of bumped heads, pretzeled limbs and laughter. But alongside that was heat and desperation, young, boundless passion, and Dean's gentle hands, bloody, bruised and callused, discovering just how I wanted to be touched.
My heart was lost to Dean Winchester in the Impala, and tonight it was found again as I pushed our first child out of my body and into the world, with the scent of leather and car wax to welcome her and Metallica singing her first lullaby as Dean put her in my arms and then wrapped me up in his.
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Summary: Dean has to rescue Sam and Y/N from a compromising position.
Warnings: smut, Sam Winchester being obscenely hot and a puppy dog at the same time, banter, crack-ish maybe.
W/C: 1.2k
Rating: E (explicit - 18+)
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, fem!reader.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Notes: This scene was on an episode of 9-1-1 (season 1 episode 9), and I thought it would be fun to write with Sam and Dean.
Betas: there's smut so you know I had to ask Lisa - @cockslut-padalecki // and I don't feel like something is finished unless Kym checks it over @deanwinchesterswitch
Graphics: canva. Dividers: @talesmaniac89
Master Lists: Sam Winchester // Main
Smut from the offset so fic under the cut....
Cuffed
The rush of adrenaline when the giant of a man gives you complete control is like nothing else.
You're straddling Sam, and it's challenging to forgo foreplay and not just sink down onto his thick cock. The urge to feel him stretch you wide and deep is hard to resist. Instead, you concentrate on his tongue in your mouth and his deft fingers sliding in and out of you with ease. He chases your mouth as you pull back, smirking down at him. The salty tang of him is strong on your tongue, and the soft, blissful set of his features is a thing of beauty.
The elixir of him is thick in your mouth, and he licks the tang from your lips. “Hhmm, I love the taste of me on you.”
He pulls his fingers from inside you, the wetness dragging up your stomach as he frees his hand from your panties. The emptiness makes you whine. He runs his index finger over his lips as if applying balm, then plunges the digits into his mouth. Humming around his fingers, he tries to sit up.
He gets halfway before you push down on his shoulders, “nuh-uh,” you tut, “not tonight, baby, I’m in charge, remember.”
He huffs as he drops back down onto the pillow. “But I want you to fuck my face until you can’t hold yourself up, then I’m gonna keep going until you can’t form words anymore.”
The obscene words mixed with the puppy dog eyes should be a felony. You have to stop yourself from groaning needily and giving in to him. It’s a pledge Sam can more than deliver on, a promise he regularly keeps. This man will be your undoing, sweet as sugar but deviant beyond human comprehension sometimes.
“I will ride your face,” you promise, kissing him as you lift his arm up to the metal headboard and slip the handcuff around his left wrist. “But only if you do as you're told first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says and wets his lips in anticipation. You kiss him again and feel the other cuff wrap around your wrist, but before you can pull away to tell him to stop, Sam clicks it in place.
“No!” you panic.
“What?” he asks, concern etched in his brow. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” you tell him quickly, “but you just cuffed us both to the bed, and the key is over there.” You point to the dresser across the room.
It’s at least ten feet away, a trail of your clothes leading the path to where you left your bag of tricks. There’s no way either of you will be able to reach it.
“Shit.”
The options aren’t limited. They are none existent. There was nothing within easy reach to use to pick the lock. The only item available was Sam’s phone on the nightstand.
“I’m not calling Dean,” Sam says flatly for maybe the tenth time.
“He’s two doors away,” you counter. “It’s either call Dean, or we wait for housekeeping to show up in, oh, I don’t know, fourteen hours?”
“I can probably break this,” Sam says, wrapping both hands around the metal bar of the headboard and jiggling it. The bed shakes, but it's obvious the thing is well built and won’t budge.
“Sam, we have to call Dean.”
“I’d rather chew my arm off.”
You laugh but know he’s probably half-serious. You’ll never hear the end of this if you get the eldest Winchester involved. But what other options do you have?
“I’m calling him,” you decide and grab the phone from the nightstand.
It takes half a minute for Dean to answer, and you hope you’re not interrupting him with a woman. He needs to blow off steam as much as you and Sam do.
“This better not be a butt dial,” answers Dean over the distinct noise of a crowded bar.
“Not a butt dial,” you say with a grimace. Hearing his voice, you realize how much you and Sam will suffer for this. Maybe you should have waited for housekeeping.
“Y/N? Everything okay? Where’s Sam?”
“We’re fine, but we…um… we need your help.”
“Help?” Dean asks, and you can tell from his voice he’s already speed walking out of wherever he is. “What kind of help?”
“We’re not in any danger,” you assure him. “We just need a hand. Can you come back to the motel?”
The noise of the bar disappears, and the wind muffles his voice, but you hear him, “On my way.”
It’s less than ten minutes before the rumble of the Impala’s engine signals your rescue, and Sam spends the entire time grumbling around a scowl.
With his one free hand, Sam pulls the sheets up around you to cover your modesty, though you still have your panties and bra on, and just as Dean bangs on the door, he yanks a pillow over himself to shield his naked form.
“Sam, Y/N,” Dean calls out. “You guys in there?”
“Come in!” He turns the handle, but it's locked, so you shout, “you’re gonna have to pick it.”
“What the hell is going on?” Dean mumbles, but seconds later, you hear him jimmying the lock. One and a half excruciatingly embarrassing minutes pass before Dean finally opens the door.
He crosses the threshold but then stops. “What the…” Dean starts, a flirty smile curling his lips as he takes in your compromising position of kneeling beside Sam. “I knew you two were into some kinky shit, but if you wanted a threesome, you just had to ask,” he says, and his fingers go to his belt buckle.
“Dean!” Sam warns, pointing at the dresser, “just get the key.”
Dean looks to the bag, then back to the two of you twice before he bends at the waist and bursts into a fit of laughter.
“I told you calling him was a bad idea,” Sam gripes.
Dean snorts and coughs barks of laughter; his ribs must ache before he’s finished.
“Are you done?” you ask when there's a break in his chuckling.
“I thought,” Dean begins, “I don’t know what I thought. You called me for help with this?”
“We just need the key.”
“You called me to walk across the room to get you the key?” he guffaws, rummaging in the bag to find the keys. His shoulders shake with compressed laughter as he approaches, “let me just unlock you then.”
“Woo there, boy,” you say, palm held high to halt him as he gets to the side of the bed. “Did I ask you to uncuff us?” Dean cocks his brow but has no words, so you continue, “just put it right there, where I can reach.”
“Seriously?” Dean snickers.
“Hhmm-uh,” you wink, “We’re good. You can go.”
“Ooo, okay,” he says, nodding approvingly as he places the key on the nightstand. “Damn, get it, girl.” he laughs again, turning away and going back to the bag that held the key. He picks it up and carries it toward the bed. “Let me just bring this over here in case you two wanna get kinky with the knives or somethin’,” he teases and drops the bag beside the bed.
“Oh Jesus, get out of here!” Sam yells.
“Oh wait,” Dean says as if remembering something important. In a flash, he fishes his phone from his pocket and turns to put himself in the shot for a selfie. “That’s one for the family album.”
Sam throws the pillow he was using to cover himself at Dean, but he dodges around it as he makes a break for the door.
“Remember, kids,” Dean shakes a finger over his shoulder, “safety first.”
Summary: Steve buys you a present, but it’s more for him.
Warnings: smut, dom!Steve, language.
W/C: 663
Rating: E (explicit - 18+)
Characters: Steve Rogers, fem!reader.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
A/N: I saw a post online that said something like, “got a couple of sundresses I want you to fuck me in!” and it inspired this. I created the dress on the title card using canva.
Graphics: made using canva. Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Master Lists: Main // Steve Rogers //
There was a time when you would have called Steve shy. He was a fierce soldier, a loyal friend, and, in the beginning, a shy lover.
He was timid; the first time he saw you completely naked, you swore, his eyes filled with tears. He’d acted as if you were made of porcelain, taking extra care not to hurt you, needing your reassurance at every move to make sure you were okay. After a frank and earnest conversation, you’d revealed a few kinks, and it had awoken a hibernating bear. He was hungry all the time. Insatiable. Passionate. Sometimes borderline condemnable.
He’s waiting in the hallway of your apartment when you get home, arms folded over his broad chest, seams of his shirt barely holding their ground. That devilish smirk, the one that is reserved only for you, creeps across his mouth.
“Welcome home, baby,” he says, and his eyes shimmer with mischief, “have a good day?” His tone suggests he doesn’t actually care.
“I did,” you shrug off your jacket. “And I have a feeling it’s going to get a hell of a lot better.”
His smile deepens, eyes darkening, and he flicks his chin up slightly. “Bedroom.”
It’s an order and a promise, one you obey without question. You open your bedroom door and see it immediately, a blush pink spaghetti strap sundress with a pink and purple floral print. “It’s beautiful,” you say and run your fingers down the fabric, smooth and silky.
“Try it on,” Steve suggests, but his voice is distant; he’s still in the hallway.
You undress, including your underwear, knowing the lines would be visible under the dress. The garment slips on like a glove, and you stand in front of the mirror admiring your figure, twisting left to right, checking out how it compliments you from every angle. Steve knows what suits you.
“Beautiful,” he says, and you turn to look at him. Your breath hitches when you find him as naked as the day he was born, palming his sizable cock. “I saw it in the window, and all I could think about was seeing it bunched up around your waist while I fuck you senseless.”
You groan, teeth cutting into your bottom lip as he stalks closer, pre-cum glistening on the dome of his dick. He kisses you, softer than you expect, but he’s shimmying the dress up your hips as his tongue meets yours.
As soon as the dress is out of the way, he bends his knees, giving him the leverage he needs to lift you, and your legs automatically wrap around his waist. His hands caress your ass, then he gives a slight smack, making the flesh wobble, and he grins fiendishly with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He glides his fingers through your wet folds.
“So wet for me already,” he praises, and as you revel in the compliment, he pins you against the wall, a little too hard, and the air whooshes from your lungs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says genuinely before kissing you. He teases the tip of his dick between your pussy lips, rolling it over your entrance, thrusting slightly when he hits your clit.
When it presses to your empty and eager hole again, you wriggle, and he slips in an inch. He growls, throaty and feral before he pauses and stills. He tuts as he disconnects from your mouth, his pupils completely blown, and you know you're in trouble. “Feeling feisty, doll?”
As the last syllable dies on his lips, he jerks his pelvis up, and you let out a shocked screech as he hits your cervix. So deep he feels like he’s in your throat, and you can’t speak.
“Are you gonna scream for me, sweetheart?”
And you do, over and over, on repeat like a broken record, and the dress is ruined before he’s even halfway done.
Yes, you once thought Steve Rogers to be shy, but there’s nothing shy about him when he has you alone, preferably trapped between plasterboard and muscle.
Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: It's All Coming Back To Me Now by Celine Dion.
Notes: Follow on from my other entries, but don’t need to have read those. But in case you want to (all 100 words or less):
Part 1 - Love From Nothing
Part 2 - Last Thursday
Part 3 - Something Stupid
Part 4 - Every Breath
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics // pics found on google.
Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester
“…goodbye.”
The wind made you shiver as he said it and you don’t feel like you ever got warm again. The slam of Baby’s door banished you from his life and you did the same to the memories.
Now Dean is back. His kiss threatened to buckle your legs, whispering apologies into your skin, hollow lies of forever.
He touches you in a way no law allows and the nights of endless pleasure come rushing back.
“I love you, Y/N,” Dean said.
“I love you, too.”
It’s too hard to resist and the hurt you once felt is gone with the wind.
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Summary: Dean says something stupid that he thinks you’ll regret.
Warnings: angst, fluff.
W/C: 100
Rating: T (teen+)
Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: Something Stupid - Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra
Notes: Follow on from my other entries Love From Nothing & Last Thursday but don’t need to have read those.
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics // pics found on google.
Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester
Dean’s across from you in the tiny booth. He’s pissed and he knows you know it. The sleazebag back at the bar was holding you too close and swaying too slowly for the beat of the song. Even if Dean didn’t possess the Mark, he would’ve wanted to tear him apart.
“You okay?” you asked, casting the mark a dirty look.
“Yep,” he seethed, tugging his sleeve down to cover it.
“Sure?”
Dean groaned, “please stop talking, before…”
“Before what?”
“I say something stupid, that you’ll regret.”
“Like?”
He bit his tongue for half a second, “Like, I love you.”
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: You’re the First, the Last, My Everything by Barry White. Also inspired by Thursday by Lostboycrow
Notes: Follow on from my first entry to this challenge Love From Nothing - but don’t need to have read that one.
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics // pics found on google.
Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester
Dean had never intended to be filthy rich, but all you had to do was smile and he was the filthiest.
You’d laid side by side on the grass, staring up at the stars. It was a Thursday, he remembered.
He couldn’t claim you were his first. Far from it, that ship had sailed a long time ago and docked at many ports. He was unsure how or when you’d crept into his heart but you’d become his everything. He just had to figure out how to tell you. So he could for damn sure make you his last.
Summary: Dean makes you feel his love, but it doesn’t last long.
Warnings: mainly angst, mild prelude to smut.
W/C: 94
Rating: T (teen+)
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics // pics found on google.
Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester
Every star in the sky takes aim at Dean’s eyes like a spotlight and for a moment you see it. Love.
Dean’s breath whispers over your skin, “so pretty, sweetheart,” followed by the promises of unbridled pleasure that lead to needy cries that make him pull you closer.
He’s never going to say everything he wants to tell you because he never could face the truth.
Though he knows all the rules of your arrangement, he breaks them until the night fades. He makes you feel his love but it always disappears by dawn.
He removed a tugga, went and got lizard, and then removed the blanket so that lizard was in with him. After this, he pulled the blanket over them both. Goodnight. (at Poway, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CXfnBYErjAqHzTpe8s2x_2Wrok6gh66peGuAtk0/?utm_medium=tumblr
*Venom voice* We are your admins - @deanwinchesterswitch (Kym) and @princessmisery666 (Stacey).
We had been talking about hosting a challenge or bingo together, and almost instantly, when we decided to do a bingo, this idea wrote itself.
What does it mean??
We all feel the pressures of writing, finding that perfect word, worrying if our characters are totally out of character, panicking that we've written that same story a hundred times, and all the other worries that come with writing. But we want to throw all of that out of the window and keep things fun, so the point is to WRITE BAD FANFICTION.
Forget the grammar rules (not all of them, it still needs to be readable 🤣), don't worry about finding the perfect word and write that played out trope all over again (we all love idiots in love), use the prompts on your bingo card and write BADLY.
Please read the rules and FAQs. If there's anything we haven't covered, feel free to send an ASK or DM us.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Squares Filled: Fluff - coitus interruptus // Angst - Am I Psycho by Tech N9ne (lyrics used)
Notes: sequel to Stay but don’t need to have read it.
Betas: @cockslut-padalecki // all the mistakes belong to me!
Graphics: pics found on google. Title card by me. @firefly-graphics made the dividers.
Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // AF Angst Bingo
Sam Winchester is BIG, in every sense of the word. You had always suspected, and you’d seen him in sweatpants, there was no way to not notice the outline of his impressive size, even when he was soft. But you’d never dared imagine the burn of him stretching you wide open would feel as incredibly criminal as it does. It should be a felony that Sam holds such power to make you feel weightless yet loaded with electrifying tension. You understand now how people become obsessed, this is how it starts. A small taste of all their talents and you’re hooked like a crack fiend; already thinking about your next fix when your current one is still coursing through your veins.
Sam’s not as cocky or forward as his brother but he certainly should be, he’s got the skills to back it up. His fingers work your clit in small circular motions, his palm putting pressure on your public bone and it’s exactly what you need, it’s the exact way you get yourself off and you wonder how he knows that. His thrusts are slow and meticulous, but when he’s close to bottoming out he snaps his hips and it takes your breath away every time.
“Sam,” you moan, “please don’t stop.”
“You like that?” He hits your cervix with a deep snap, and stills, looking down between your bodies. “Fuck, look at that,” he says and you follow his eyes to the small bulge in your stomach, he swirls his hips and the bump moves too. He meets your eyes, and the shy, almost bashful smile that smears his lips is adorably cute but mixed with his next words it’s obscenely hot, “you take all of me so good, sweetheart.”
Your cunt pulses, urging him to continue. The new discovery turns him into an insatiable fiend and he takes his time exploring all the ways he can manipulate the bulge of his cock in your stomach.
You’re right there, right on the cusp of your orgasm. It’s like a boulder rolling down a hill, moving fast and heavy, it’s building momentum and just when it’s ready to crash into you the bedroom door opens and Dean fills the space.
Sam doesn’t stop, too caught up in the moment to notice his brother's arrival. You watch Dean over Sam’s shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips, and the pleasure of seeing the hurt in Dean’s eyes tips you over the edge.
You sneer, “hi, Dean,” biting down on Sam’s shoulder, and the release you crave is so close…
Dean’s face twists in fury and he yells your name, “Y/N.”
Your body spasms and you jolt awake, eyes adjusting to the early morning light seeping through the almost nonexistent motel curtains. Dean’s arm is draped across your stomach and his nose nuzzles against the back of your neck.
“Um, someone was having a nice dream,” he says and you feel his erection press into your ass. He kisses your neck, behind your ear and his hand slides up your stomach to grope your breast. He massages it a couple of times and you can feel his longing in the open-mouthed kisses against your skin. He tugs you over to lie flat on your back.
He kisses your lips once, pulls back to look in your eyes and asks in a hushed voice, “Is this okay?”
Hesitantly you nod, it should be okay, but it feels wrong. But maybe if you pretend, eventually it will be. He kisses you again, his dominant tongue leading yours, his groping hand moves lower and he reaches the waistband of your panties.
Dean’s hand cups your sex over the top of the fabric and by instinct your hips thrust up, seeking more. You feel the wetness of your arousal but you’re not sure if it’s Dean or the aftermath of your dream. He smiles against your mouth, “all this for me, sweetheart?” His hand grips harder before he slips his finger down the seam and spreads your folds.
“Stop,” you sigh. He does immediately and you wriggle from underneath him to stand up.
Dean blasts a frustrated breath out and rolls onto his back, he palms his rock solid cock through the thin sheets, readjusting it before throwing his arm over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought you wanted to, you were squirming in your sleep and you said my name.”
“I wasn’t dreaming about… it doesn’t matter.” Admitting to dreaming about fucking his brother as a form of revenge would be cruel so you decide against it.
“Obviously not.”
“I’m sorry, Dean, I just… I’m not ready.”
“I get it.” He shrugs one shoulder but he still doesn’t look at you. “But it’s been weeks, I miss being with you, like that.”
“Do you?” You ask, unable to hide the anger you feel. “Do you get it? ‘Cause you seem kinda pissed.”
He removes his arm and sits up. He still doesn’t look at you, looking down at his hands but it’s written all over his face, he’s frustrated, maybe borderline angry.
“I am pissed,” he admits, “but pissed at myself for doing what I did. For making you so uncomfortable I have to ask if kissing you is okay.”
You feel bad for making him question where your limits lay but after all he was the one who cheated. He was the one who told you he loved you then freaked out and disappeared for three days, only to return with hickey’s and speeches about being fucked up if you left him.
“And I don’t want you to have to ask. But It’s hard to stop imagining you kissing and fucking someone else and it… hurts.”
His head drops to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut but he doesn’t speak.
“You asked me to stay and I did. I’m trying here, Dean,” you say, “I really am.”
He’s quick to scramble over the bed to stand in front of you, slipping a hand around your waist and one onto your cheek. “I know, I know and I’ll wait as long as it takes…”
The door opens cutting off the rest of his speech and Sam walks in, shirtless and sweaty from a run.
Sam reads the room and apologises, “Shit, sorry, I can come back.”
You shake your head, your eyes involuntarily dragging down his torso to the grey sweatpants he wears and you swallow thickly. “No. It’s fine, honestly,” you say before rushing off to the bathroom.
A few days later your bags are packed and you’ve loaded them in the car. You’ve said a tearful goodbye to Sam; he tried valiantly to convince you to stay and it broke your heart that his heart was breaking for his brother. If Dean pleaded as much, your resolve might falter. That’s why you’d packed your bags and loaded the car up while he was out on a supply run.
You wait in the garage for him; butt resting on the hood of your car. He must know what’s coming because once he shuts off Baby’s engine it takes him a long time to get out.
He finally does, pleading in his eyes as you approach. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to, for me.” You tell him, “I’ve tried, I really have. But the trust is gone and we can’t get it back.”
“Yes we can, it just takes time.”
You shake your head, “I’ve been dreaming about sleeping with Sam,” you admit and Dean’s fury burns into your eyes. “That’s not right, and you saw me last night, don’t pretend you didn’t.”
He looks away, chewing the inside of his cheek and you know he’s biting back anger.
“That guy at the bar,” you continue, “I saw you looking and all I could think about was kissing him to piss you off. I’m consumed with wanting to hurt you the way you hurt me, Dean.”
“So do it!” he interrupts loudly. “If getting even is what it takes, then do it, please. Just not with my brother.”
“Revenge isn’t going to solve anything! That’s not me.”
Silence takes over for a moment.
The emotions roll in waves, you’re practically vibrating with coiled tension; sadness that it’s over, relief that you’ve finally made a decision, guilt that you are breaking his heart and anger that he’d made the choices that led you here. You cry, tears running down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. “I thought I could survive the pain… but you broke me, Dean, and I really wanted you to fix me too. But you can’t, you choose to do something that we’re both paying the price for and I can’t pretend I’m not utterly devastated every time I look at you.”
“Please Y/N,” he begs, stepping forward, but you take a step back out of his reach. That breaks him and it’s almost as if his legs are about to give out but he stumbles back to rest against Baby’s hood.
“I wasn’t lying when I said that I love you, Dean,” you say, taking a step closer, a gentle hand cupping his cheek to make him look at you. “This isn’t easy for me. But I feel like I’m killing myself to love you. I’ve changed who I am, if anyone else had done what you did, I would’ve walked away and it’s a constant battle with myself to try and make this work. I’m angry and we fight, then I remind myself that I said I’d try and the next breath I feel guilty for lashing out at you. My mood swings have turned my dreams into gruesome scenes of revenge and I'm doin' things I don't normally do when illusions seem to be the only pleasure I can gain ‘cause the thought of you touching me, being intimate with you, scares me.”
He frowns, confusion tightening his brow. “Scares you?”
You nod, shame heating your cheeks. “What if you compare me to her, whoever she was? What if she was better? What if you're imagining being with her?”
“I’m not, I wouldn’t.”
“I know,” you soothe, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone and it’s hard to be the one comforting him when he’s the cause of the heartbreak.
“We don’t have to be together,” he bargains, “I just need you here, please.”
You shake your head, “I can’t be here, I’m sorry. I love you, but it isn’t enough.” You kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment, resolve wavering.
Dean moves to rest his cheek against yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I love you and I’m so goddamn sorry.”
He stands up so quickly you stumble back and he’s the one to walk away further into the bunker. You wait until the door closes behind him, and let out a long breath; sadly letting you walk away is the one thing he’s done that makes you think he really does love you.
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Summary: Dean can’t stand you, and you don’t even know why. What wll happen if you move into the bunker for a hunt?
Warnings: Dean being a dick, age gap between Dean (40) and reader (23), some angst, insecure reader, language.
Pairing: Dean x reader
A/N: This is an enemies to lovers fic that exists out of three parts! Next one will be out tomorrow :)
A/N 2:The text divider is from the very talented @talesmaniac89
Wordcount: 2198
Part 2/3, Part 3/3
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Slowly you descended the stairs of the bunker. The famous Winchester bunker. Your eyes racked over the place, from the high ceiling to the illuminated world map table.
Omg! I wait until stories are done to read them, but stumbled into this one. When I got to the end I had that moment of "that can't be all there is". Oh wait it's not.... f@(% it's not finished!!!
Please tag me in the rest. I love it so far and must see the cracks firm as Dean admits reality!!
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