The day Dean Winchester crashed into your life, something changed. A shift. An alignment. Call it what you may. He was everything. Strong, handsome, and a skilled hunter. You were helpless about the man 12 years your senior. He left as quickly as you met him, but it wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths. Far from it. Dean Winchester trusted you, and he would bring you pain, life, heartache, and euphoria in return.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, language, sad stuff?, Age gap (legal), references to a sexual relationship
Friendly reminder that Star-Crossed is now being published on my writing blog @wellfic and to go follow me there if you would like to keep up with newer parts. And to possibly read some of my other fics when I get around to them!
All future Star-Crossed parts will be posted to my writing blog @wellfic due to this being my only Supernatural fic I plan for a while, and that blog will be an accumulation of multiple fandom fics and my own original work.
Follow me there if you would like, I will reblog a few of the future parts here in case you have not seen this post. And I promise to not disappoint.
This is just going to be easier for me to manage fewer blogs for multiple fandoms. If you follow my Pietro Maximoff blog, @pietro patrol, that one will stay posting because it’s gotten too large to merge into a newer blog.
The day Dean Winchester crashed into your life, something changed. A shift. An alignment. Call it what you may. He was everything. Strong, handsome, and a skilled hunter. You were helpless about the man 12 years your senior. He left as quickly as you met him, but it wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths. Far from it. Dean Winchester trusted you, and he would bring you pain, life, heartache, and euphoria in return.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, language, sad stuff?, Age gap, sexual innuendos
Words: 2,306
July 2007 – 16 years old
3.4 Sin City
“It’s a dick.” Your co-worker and fellow classmate, Harvey, peeked over your shoulder, staring into the ceramic cup.
“Not intentional. My latte art keeps turning into genitalia. Brings a literal meaning to a stiff drink, don’t you think?” You frowned, passing it to Harvey, who appraised it carefully.
“If you gave it eyes, you could pass it off as an elephant face.” He plucked a knife out of a basin and made your latte a bit more appropriate. He showed it off to you.
“It still looks like a dick,” you sighed, leaning on the counter. The pair of you were bored. It was a slow night, without a football game, the little coffee shop was dead late that Friday night. Granted, you never worked during a game, due to cheerleading obligations.
“A dick with eyes,” Harvey countered, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Ew, not an image I wanted in my head. Thanks for that.” You had to physically shake your head to dispel the image.
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh my god, something exciting please happen. A girl can only practice making so many dick lattes.” You collapsed onto the drink counter dramatically.
“Maybe start practicing vagina lattes?” Harvey teased. You threw the dish rag by the espresso machine at him and by some miracle the bells on the door jingled as two tall, tired men stepped in to the shop.
You whipped up straight, your heart racing with excitement and a tingle of a feeling unknown ran up your spine. Was there a case nearby?
It had been over a year since you’d met them, and your parents had forbidden you from every going over to Bobby’s when they were in town. But the Winchesters had come to you this time. Albeit, by accident. They were probably in desperate need of caffeine and Wi-Fi.
“Dean! Sam!” You couldn’t contain the joy in your voice, and kicked yourself for sounding a little too enthusiastic about seeing them. Keep it cool, Y/N.
“Y/N?” Same and Dean responded in surprise. You grinned and pointed to your name tag, confirming.
“You work here now?” Sam wondered, they had stopped by at this coffee show half a year ago and hadn’t run into you.
“Yeah, the parental units said I had too much time on my hands this summer and I got my new car, so I had to start getting gas money.” You shrugged. “What can I get for you guys?”
“Just some black coffee.” Sam gave a soft smile.
“Yeah, and a piece of that pie there.” Dean pointed at your caramel apple crumble pie.
“You’ve got it.”
Harvey grabbed the pie and you handed them their coffees. “How much?” Sam pulled out his wallet.
“It’s on me.” You slid your credit card through.
“You didn’t have to—” Dean started.
“Don’t worry about it, you’ll repay me someday. How long are you here for?”
“We’re just swinging by Bobby’s after this to pick up some gear and assistance before we head back out.”
“Going out to Ohio, had to do a bit of research and snag some caffeine for the road.” Sam put $10 in the tip jar.
“Not necessary, but thanks.”
They nodded and sat at a table in the corner of the café. Out of Harvey’s hearing.
Ohio? That was how many hours away?
“You know those guys?” Harvey raised his eyebrows, clearly flabbergasted.
“They’re friends of my Uncle Bobby’s, we’ve met once and talked on occasion.” You eyed the pair chatting in hushed tones in the corner.
“What are they researching?”
“Wildlife.” The lie rolled right off your tongue.
“What about it?”
“Their habits and patterns, I don’t know. Why does it matter?” You played clueless.
“Something just seems off about them.” Harvey gave you a weird look, before returning to watch the Winchester brothers.
“Are you jealous Harvey?” You tried not to laugh, but it was clear as day. The way his jaw set as Dean looked back at you and waved you over to their table.
“I’m not, I’m just looking out for you.” He placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from going to them.
“I don’t need anybody looking out for me, besides they’re my friends.” You rolled your eyes.
“And that’s weird because they are probably a decade older than us.” Harvey pointed out.
“Twelve years.” The words came out as a reflex. You don’t even know why you said it.
“Huh?”
“Dean, Dean’s twelve years older than me. Sam is, what? Nine years older than me? Eight maybe?”
“You knew that… right off the top of your head? That, that guy is twelve years older than you?” Harvey’s voice was low, biting.
“And that Sam is eight.” You sounded defensive, even to your own ears. Shit.
“But you knew that Dean guy’s right off the bat, like it’s something you think about. A lot.”
“You’re reading a whole lot of something out of nothing. Dean’s a friend, I haven’t even thought of him outside of when my Uncle Bobby talks about them.”
It was a lie. You begged Bobby to keep you updated on the Winchesters and to let you help in their research. It was your one link into the full hunter world, and you wanted to go out there with them so bad. Or for your parents to at least take you with them. But no, you had to stay home and work while they dealt with cases.
You saw your parents maybe once a month with all the activity that been happening since the gate to hell had opened. Teens would kill for the chance to have their parents out of the house for that long, but you belonged on the road with them.
Not home alone, baking sadness pies. Then feel lonelier when you had no one to share them with. That’s why your boss had let you start selling your baked goods here. She knew your parents left on their “business trips” and you had nothing else to do, but work before cheerleading practice started in August.
Harvey released you, but not before staring directly into your eyes. Looking for who knows what? Did he want something more than friendship?
As you approached, they pulled a chair out for you.
“Glad to see you safe and doing something normal,” Dean remarked.
“As normal as a girl who fights ghosts can be. I’m allowed to do simple salt and burns by myself now in the area.” It felt stupid when you said it aloud. Compared to what they had seen and done, your ghosts were child’s play.
“Nothing else though?” Sam wondered.
You shook your head. “My leash is tight. So, Ohio?”
Dean and Sam filled you in, your heart aching with each detail. You were a hunter by blood and nature. You should be out there with them and the plan began to come together in your head.
“Hey, do you think you could drop me off at Bobby’s? My car is there, Bobby was fixing it up for me today.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Bobby was going to pick you up with your at your house tomorrow to do some research and Harvey was going to be your ride home tonight.
“Sure, no problem.” The plan was set in motion.
****
“I still don’t understand why you are going with them.” Harvey whispered as he locked the door.
“They’re going to my Uncle Bobby’s and I want my car back.”
“What about the party?”
“I’ll swing by, I really wasn’t planning on drinking anyway.” That was a lie, you would not be swinging by.
Harvey stared over your shoulder at the brothers, and then down to you. “Stay safe.”
“Safety is my middle name.” You gave him a friendly hug and skipped over to the Impala. Your heart pounding against your rib cage as climbed into the back seat for the first time. The smell of worn leather, men’s cologne, and a hint of gun powder filled your senses.
This was it, you were going to run away with the Winchesters.
****
April 2015 – 23 years old
Shortly after 10.20 Angel Heart
Thank you for visiting Kansas!
It hit you like a ton of bricks. You were leaving the boys.
Tears welled up and you couldn’t fight it anymore. What were you doing? You’re a terrible person. Dean didn’t deserve this.
Sobs wracked your body and you had to pull over on the side of the road. “Shit, shit, shit!” You punched the steering wheel trying to will the waterfalls coming out of your eyes. But you were pregnant and alone, and the thought only made you cry harder.
You collapsed over the wheel, taking deep breaths. What was next? You had to go to the doctor to make sure everything was okay. God knows even how far along you were.
This baby needed a home. Not dingy motels.
Jody. Jody could help and she wouldn’t tell Dean. At least you hoped. You pulled back on the road and changed directions.
You’d be okay. Well, not okay, but safe.
****
“Dean!” The scream rang through his head. His heart lurching.
“Y/N!” Dean spun around in the forest, darkness blanketing the landscape in front of him.
“Dean!” Your scream more blood curdling than the last. “Help!”
“I’m coming, Y/N!” Dean took off in the direction of your voice.
“Please.” It was a whimper at Dean’s feet. You laid crumpled on the forest floor, deep cuts all over your body.
Dean dove to his knees and cradled you in his arms and pushed away the Y/H/C tendrils matted in blood clinging to your cheeks.
“Dean, wake up!” Sam’s voice broke through. Dean shot out of his bed, narrowly avoiding smashing foreheads with Sam. “Dude, it was just a dream.” Sam held his hand up.
Dean pushed past him, running down the hall to your room.
“Y/N,” he called out your name softly before opening your door.
The air left Dean chest. The once cluttered desk covered in countless books and notebooks was now spotless. The pictures that used to cover the cork board, cleared. The frame with a picture of you and your parents, gone from the nightstand.
Dean hurried to the wardrobe, as he feared, your clothes were missing. He dove to the floor and looked under your bed. Your canvas hunting bag was no longer there.
“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam stood in the doorway.
“She’s gone,” Dean grunted, sitting up and rubbing his face. Torn.
Sam surveyed the room, concern setting in his face. “Maybe she cleaned and now she’s making breakfast. She has been feeling pretty rough lately. She probably couldn’t sleep.” Sam pulled his brother off the floor and dragged him upstairs. Trying to have a small inkling of hope. You would have never left without telling them.
On any given morning, the boys would have been greeted with the smell of pancakes. You couldn’t resist making a carb-loaded breakfast after being on the road all the time.
The boys were met by a cold, empty kitchen. Dean turned on his heel and stormed up past the library and into the garage. The fluorescent light blinked on, revealing the space where your car had once sat.
“Get me my phone, Sam.”
When the phone was in his hand, he touched your contact name. A picture of you staring cross eyed at an extravagant donut, behind your name.
It rang on his end, then it was ringing in the bunker. They boys looked over to the table in the library. Your phone sat buzzing on a pile of books. A picture of Dean mid-bite into a pie, looking quizzically at the photographer. You.
Dean hung up, his arms going slack at his sides. He picked up your phone, unlocking it, hoping to find something. Anything as to why you left.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, holding out a folded piece of paper that had been set under your phone.
Dean,
Please forgive me.
Sam,
Take care of Dean. You know the drill.
Love, Y/N
Dean broke. His eyes watered as he sat himself down in the chair, holding your note to his chest. “She got herself in trouble. That’s the only reason she would leave.”
“Maybe she was getting tired of the hunting life. She was pretty reluctant on the last few hunts.”
“She was sick, Sam. Hunting is Y/N’s life. She can’t stay out of it if she even tried. We all tried to stop her, remember?”
“So, she’s sicker than we thought and she ran away so she didn’t have to face us. But I feel like she would have told us. Y/N tells us everything.”
“Apparently not.” Dean cradled his head in his hands. Your note fluttering to the floor.
****
Jody Mills was having a pretty normal day. Claire was still adjusting, and her and Alex seemed to butt heads. But Jodi was sure they would be like sisters someday. If they didn’t kill each other first.
“Girls, dinner.” Jody had become a mother of two teen girls suddenly, and she was content. Unless her hair began to grey from all the stress.
“Meatloaf?” Claire scrunched up her nose as she plopped into her seat. Alex said nothing, but she gave Claire a quick glare.
“Do you not like meatloaf?” Jody was sure meatloaf was a meal most people liked.
“Does anybody like mashed meat pile—” Claire was cut off by the doorbell being run in a frantic manner.
“Stay here.” Jody cautiously made her way to the door and peeked through curtain. She flung the door open.
There you stood, soaking wet, crying in the rain.
“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are the boys okay?” Jody ushered you inside.
“Yeah, they’re fine,” You choked. “I-I just got myself in a situation and I need help. And you’re the only person I can trust.”
Hi! O was wondering if your were still writing the drabble series 'Star Crossed'?
It is an on going series that has taken over my life! I balance this blog with my Pietro Maximoff/MCU imagine blog. I kind of write back and forth throughout the day.
A/N: This will be a drabble series and will not be in chronological order. The reader is the same reader in each part, but at different stages in her and Dean’s life. It will bounce from the past and future and be guided mostly through song titles/themes.
The day Dean Winchester crashed into your life, something changed. A shift. An alignment. Call it what you may. He was everything. Strong, handsome, and a skilled hunter. You were helpless about the man 12 years your senior. He left as quickly as you met him, but it wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths. Far from it. Dean Winchester trusted you, and he would bring you pain, life, heartache, and euphoria in return.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warning: Language, pregnancy, age gap (but nothing ever illegal)
Words: 1,298
July 2006 - 15 years old
1.22 Devil’s Trap
The day Dean Winchester crashed into your life, something changed. A shift. An alignment. Call it what you may.
You never forgot the look on your Bobby’s face as the pair of you heard the rumble of the Impala as it pulled into his salvage yard. He had been enjoying the conversation about the Greek mythology you were learning at school. Bobby’s skin paled and his eyes darkened. He looked defeated.
“Just perfect,” Bobby muttered under his breath as he made his way to the door. You stayed at the kitchen table, comparing your class notes to the lore in Bobby’s journal.
It was Hunter business and your parents wanted you to stay far away from it. They were currently out on a hunt deemed too dangerous for you. You were only allowed on local salt and burns if it wasn’t a school night.
Bobby was your “babysitter” and like an Uncle to you. Also, the only hunter you had known until the Winchesters. His job was to keep you out of trouble and teach you the lore. That’s it. According to your parents ignorance gets you killed, so they trained you like a hunter but didn’t let you into the field. They wanted you to live a normal life.
“Boys, what can I help you with?” Bobby didn’t open the door all the way. One interaction with the Winchesters could rope you into their mess. You’d be marked for life. Doomed by their monsters.
“Our dad.” The husky voice caused you to look up from your homework.
“We think yellow eyes…” Another man’s voice.
“Shit!” Bobby opened the door all the way. The Winchesters walked into your life and they would never leave.
Dean noticed you at the table. “Hi, I’m Dean Winch—“
“That’s Y/N Y/L/N, she’s 15, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring her into your mess,” Bobby barked.
Dean gave him an odd look. “Y/L/N? They had a kid?”
“Yeah, and they’ve done a damn good job keeping her out of this. She ain’t a hunter. She’s a tracker, and only a tracker.” Bobby slammed the books on the kitchen table shut.
“A tracker? I’m Sam by the way.” He reached out and shook your hand.
“I’m well versed in lore and highly skilled at finding cases. I CAN hunt, I’m trained, but I am NOT allowed too.” You sighed.
“It’s not the life for you. Your parents are going to shoot me once they find out you met the Winchesters.” Bobby slumped into his chair.
“Winchesters?” Your eyes grew wide as you took in the two men. “They’re Dean and Sam Winchester? Bobby you never told me you knew them.”
“Because the Winchesters are—“
“Nothing but trouble,” You drawled exasperatingly. “I know, you, and mom and dad, have only told me a million stories.”
“Trouble, why are we trouble?” Dean grabbed a beer out of the fridge.
“Do you really have to ask that Dean?” Bobby raised his eyebrows.
Dean gave you a wink, you blushed. “Come on, Bobby. I’m not as bad as they say.”
“He is,” Sam chuckled.
“Stop that.” Bobby glared at Dean and his boyish smirk at you. “And not that kind of trouble. The kind that can get Y/N killed.”
Dean frowned and got down to business. You forgot about your homework and got your first taste of hunter talk. But Bobby was right. They were trouble. They brought danger wherever they went. And you were unfortunately drawn to it.
That night you met your first demon, Meg. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. And Dean, he was everything. Strong, handsome, and a skilled hunter. Your 15 year old self was helpless about the man 12 years your senior.
The way he smiled was enough for your crush to start. But it was him being impressed by your knowledge and own hunting skills that got you.
He left as quickly as you met him, but it wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths. Far from it.
Dean Winchester trusted you, and he would bring you pain, life, heartache, and euphoria in return.
****
February 2015 – 23 years old
Season 10
“Y/N!” Dean honked the horn, impatient. You chucked the offensive pink stick into the trash.
“Fuck.” You mentally kicked yourself, holding back the tears. You were on a hunt, now was not the time. You could cry when you got back to the bunker.
You shuffled through the Gas and Sip, a fog settling over your body. The usual snacks and drinks for the boys were plucked off the shelf. The thought of your usual canned mocha energy drink made you want to run back into the bathroom and throw up what little you had kept down from breakfast.
With a sigh, you grabbed a ginger ale and some animal crackers. You didn’t think it would do any good though, your morning sickness was untamable.
The gas station attendant rang up the purchase while eyeing you up. You had just purchased a pregnancy test from him 5 minutes ago and your snack choices weren’t looking good for you.
You held out hope that it was just a bad stomach flu and that a gas station pregnancy test couldn’t be correct. But, it was still a brand name test no matter where it was purchased.
“Good luck.” The attendant offered a reassuring smile. You grimaced. Oh god, you would need it.
You couldn’t even look the boys in the eye as you slid into the back seat. Especially Dean.
“Hey, are you okay?” Sam, always the perceptive one.
“Yeah.” You held up the ginger ale. “Stomach bug.” He cast you a look of sympathy.
“Let me know if you need me to pull over. I don’t want chocolate chip pancake all over Baby.” Dean looked at you through the rearview mirror. His green eyes concerned, for both you and the leather interior of Baby.
You slightly gagged at the word baby, but gave him a thumbs up. It was going to be a long hunt.
At some point in the drive you passed out. When you came to rain pattered against the roof and the dash illuminated in the dark. Soft rock spilled from the speakers and baby’s low thrum offered you some solace. You vaguely noticed the smell of the woods, aftershave, and a trace of gasoline enveloping you. Worn leather caressing your exposed skin. Dean’s jacket.
A faint sigh escaped your lips.
“Hey sleeping beauty.” Dean reached around the back of his seat to pat your leg. “Wake up, we’re almost there.”
You slowly sat up, pulling Dean’s jacket on. Shielding yourself against the anxieties looming over you. “How long have I been out?” Your mouth felt fuzzy and your muscles ached.
“About 10 hours. We even stopped for food, you were out.” Dean’s voice was tight. A small flutter began in your heart. He was worried about you.
“We got you soup and salad, but it’s probably cold now.” Sam held out a bag for you.
“Thanks.” The smell of clam chowder invaded your senses and your stomach did a somersault. “Pull over.” You clamped your hand over your mouth. Dean was quick and you threw the door open before dry heaving onto the shoulder of the road.
It hurt. You searched the floor for your ginger ale and once you sufficiently got rid of the bitter bile coating your tongue, you crawled back into the car.
“Y/N? I think you should sit this one out. Get some rest.” Dean pulled back onto the road. Those green eyes watching you in the mirror once again.
“You’re probably right,” you responded weakly. Maybe a few hunts or all hunts from now on.
This wasn’t a stomach bug. You were pregnant… with Dean Winchester’s baby.
