Warnings: fun, fluff, domestic Dean, pregnant reader, partially a social media au
A/N: I tried something new for this one, using a fake text message creator. I created the messages myself. Can be read as a standalone fic.
Catch up here: Home alone
“Sam, have you seen Dean?” You call from the kitchen. “He’s missing dinner. Dean never misses dinner.”
“He wanted to get wine and napkins. Or something like that,” Sam replies and pokes his head into the kitchen. “Dean left half an hour ago.”
“Napkins? Dean wanted to buy napkins?” You frown deeply. “Dean only ever buys beer, pie, and his naughty magazines. You know, the ones he hides under our bed.”
“OH…he still likes them?” Sam’s cheeks are pink when he looks your way. “Dean has a weakness for these.”
“I don’t mind,” you chuckle. “I just wonder why he left to buy napkins. We wanted to have a movie night. And wine? I can’t drink.” You waddle out of the kitchen, rubbing your big belly. “He knows that.”
“Maybe he needed a break?” Sam winces at his words. “Sorry. It’s just…uh…domestic life, kids running around, a pregnant wife. Dean must be on the edge.”
“On. The. Edge?” You poke your index finger into Sam’s chest. “He’s lucky to have us.”
“Of course,” Sam says, showing his palms. “It’s just…sometimes a man needs a break.”
“Where is my husband?” You narrow your eyes and raise your voice. “I won’t ask twice, Samuel Winchester.”
“I don’t know, I swear. Dean said something about getting fresh air and wine and stuff. I was wondering about the wine and napkins too.” Sam slowly walks backward, keeping an eye on you. “Let me live.”
“Fine. I’ll find him myself,” you huff and turn on your heels. Sam watches you waddle toward your bedroom, careful not to wake your sleeping kids.
Back in your bedroom, you grab your phone. Dean never just runs off. If things get too intense, he comes to you. You’re worried something might have happened to your husband.
You’re about to type a message to him when a message from Dean pops up. You chuckle because he’s his silly self.
Twenty minutes later, you and Sam get out of your car. The younger Winchester sighs because Dean is running toward you, grinning like an idiot.
“Sweetheart!” He wraps his arms around you, peppering kisses all over your neck. “I knew you’d come and be my girlfriend.”
“She’s your wife,” Sam says. “What happened? Why are you like this?” He looks Dean up and down, frowning deeply. “What’s this?”
Dean looks down at his arm, stopping at the bracelet around his wrist.
“I don’t know.” He says, lifting his arm to look at the bracelet. “It looks nice.”
“Dean, that’s not yours.” Sam carefully grabs his brother’s wrist to take the bracelet off. Before he can get a better look at it, the bracelet turns to dust, and his brother falls to the ground, unconscious.
“Gabriel, get here. You motherfucker! I won’t ask twice!” You’re pacing the library, cursing the angels’ existence once again. “I know it was you!”
Gabriel appears out of thin air. He chuckles and winks at you. “I only gave Dean a break. He wanted to know how it feels to fight for you again. Your husband was missing the thrill of winning you over.”
You roll your eyes. “Dude, we role-play almost every week. This doesn’t mean he wants to forget we are married and that he got me pregnant for the third time. Stay out of our business.”
Dean chuckles as you growl in Gabriel’s direction. “Damn, sweetheart. I knew I married the right girl!”
“Damn right, Winchester. Now follow me to our bedroom…”
Summary: Your mother prioritizes the shiny new girl over you.
Pairing: Young!(AU)Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Warnings: angst, golden child syndrome, awful mother, great stepdad, no monster au
A/N: We start in the last year of high school with this one.
Next time. It’s always the same two words. Whenever you ask your mother to attend one of your events or spend time with you, she says those two words.
Your stepsister never hears them. Since your mother remarried three years ago, you have become invisible to her. It hurt at first, but now, you're just numb.
You don’t ask her to come to your things or spend time with you anymore. It wouldn’t change anything. She’d only tell you, next time, again, and move to your stepsister.
“Y/N, why did you not tell me that you got the lead role in your school play?” Your mother asks the moment you walk inside the kitchen to make breakfast for yourself. Your stepsister already has her prepared food, as she does every morning. “Hello, did you hear me?”
“I didn’t think you’d care,” you say with a shrug. “I’m sure Lacey has something more important going on. You should focus on her, just like every day. My things are less important.”
Your mother stares at you. For almost two years, you stopped complaining or arguing. You just gave up on holding onto a relationship she destroyed years ago.
“I’m your mother!” She snaps at you, disappointment written all over her face.
“Oh,” you say, looking at her like she grew a second head. “I didn’t know I still had a mother. You know, everyone at school believes you died three years ago.”
“What?” Your mother looks hurt when she asks, “Did you tell them so?”
“I didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice even. “The moment you stopped coming to events, to pick me up from school, or to simply care, everyone assumed you must’ve died.”
She stammers, but you have no time for her drama. “I’m still your mother.”
You sigh deeply. She will once again promise to show, only to forget about you the moment Lacey comes up with another emergency.
“If you want to come, you can. If not…” You shrug. “It doesn’t really matter to me anymore. If you don’t keep your hopes high, you won’t get disappointed.”
Your stepfather watches you walk out of the kitchen with sad eyes. He tried everything to make the blended family work. It was your mother who abandoned you to favor his daughter.
“I told you your behavior will fire back. Now your daughter doesn’t even want you to come to her school play. How could you not know about her interests?”
“Dad,” Lacey groans. “She’s just being dramatic. The lead role is nothing special. I could’ve gotten the role too if I wanted to.”
“You don’t even like the theater, Lacey. Please don't make everything about you all the time. That’s the reason your stepsister refuses to spend time with you, and her own mother!”
Lacey flinches at her father’s outburst. Lately, he’s been in a bad mood whenever they exclude you. He just doesn't know how to make your mother see that she's losing her daughter.
“Do you honestly believe I don’t know you, once again, excluded Y/N from your mother-daughter bonding time at the spa?” He raises his voice, now directing his anger at your mother. “You told me Y/N was coming too, only for me to see her working another shift at the diner. She didn’t even know about the spa.”
“She doesn’t like spending time at the spa,” Lacey lies through her teeth. She knows you begged your mother to spend time with you at the spa. You even offered to pay for it with the money you saved up.
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” your stepfather hisses. “You are grounded for two months!”
“Dad!”
“Y/SF/N!” Your mother gasps. All her plans involving Lacey just went down the drain. Including movie night on the weekend. “You can’t do this!”
“You’re lucky I can’t ground you too,” he says, anger in his voice. “Your daughter bends backwards to appease you and to earn the tiniest of attention from you. All you did was ignore your own flesh and blood!”
“Daddy, you should be on my side,” Lacey presses a few tears out. “She’s your stepdaughter, not your daughter!”
“No. I shouldn’t. Someone must be on Y/N’s side because the two of you give a shit about her feelings and well-being. I’m going to take her on a trip to New York next month. John and I want to talk about expanding with Singer. I originally wanted to take all of you, but you two don't deserve nice things.”
“Darling, you promised to take me and Lacey shopping in New York City! I already told all our friends about it.”
“I promised to bring my family to the trip, just like John. Right now, I’m ashamed to call you my wife, and Lacey, my daughter. You do not deserve to come with me after repeatedly abandoning your own daughter for three years,” your stepfather says, leaving no room for argument. “My decision is final.”
The day of the play didn’t bring a surprise. As usual, your mother didn’t show. Lacey threw another tantrum, and your mother was all too eager to go on a shopping spree with her stepdaughter instead of attending your play to watch you play Juliet.
“Something wrong, Sweetheart?” Dean Winchester, the heartthrob of your school and son of your stepfather’s business partner, asked. “You did great. It almost made me like Hamlet.”
“I kissed your brother,” you point out, earning a huff from Dean.
“Yeah, no. That was a staged kiss,” he argues, stepping even closer to hand you a single red rose. “Come on. What’s wrong?”
“She didn’t show,” Sam murmurs from behind his brother.
“She?” Dean cocks his head to look at his brother.
“My mother,” you finally say. “I didn’t expect her to show, Sam. It’s fine. I assume Lacey had something more important going on today.”
“Lacey?” Dean wonders aloud. “That annoying girl asking me to drive her home all the damn time? She's the worst.”
“Exactly,” his brother confirms. “You'd better stay away from her.”
“She’s not my type,” Dean says, handing you the rose. “Let me drive you home, Sweetheart. Let me invite you for ice cream too.”
“You don’t have to pretend to care, okay,” you sniff, and look away. “I’m used to being ignored since Lacey showed up. My mother acts as if I’m the stepdaughter. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong,” your stepfather angrily says. “Your mother is the one to blame. I told her more than once to stop favoring my daughter.” He looks down at you, giving you a sad smile. “I know this won’t make up for the pain I brought upon you by marrying your mother, but I’ll take only you to New York City next month.”
“She’s coming with us?” Dean grins from ear to ear. “Awesome! We can share a room, have a sleepover, and eat pie. Oh, and I know where to get the best pizza in New York! Leave everything to me.”
“Y/SF/N, I appreciate what you try to do, but I won’t hear the end of it if you don’t take Lacey and my mother to New York City. I can stay behind. I’m used to it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Y/N,” your stepfather sighs when you turn to walk away. “They have to learn actions have consequences.”
“This won’t make my mother love me,” you choke on the words when looking at your stepfather. “She doesn’t like me at all. Why? I can’t tell. All I know is that she stopped caring for me since Lacey walked into our home. Maybe she was simply waiting for someone better to show up.”
You run away, leaving your stepfather, Sam, and Dean behind.
“Sonofabitch!” Dean curses loudly. “What’s wrong with her mother? How can she abandon her daughter over someone else’s daughter?”
“I’d understand if Lacey lost her mom,” your stepfather says. “But Caroline is still in the picture, and a great mom. There’s no reason for Y/M/N to act like this.”
“She’s a cunt then,” Dean says before storming off. He runs after you, calling your name.
“I’m sorry, Sir. My brother is…” Sam tries, but your stepfather shakes his head.
“He’s not wrong, Sam. My wife turned out to be a cunt…”
Jeez Y/N's mom choosing her stepsister over her is awful. Also her stepsister is a spoiled entitled brat. I love how Y/N's stepdad is there for her. Its good she's got the Winchesters in her corner too.
She's going places sounds like the the play she's in is just step stone to something bigger.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer
Warnings: mentions of drunk confessions, John being a dick, arguments, blood, getting shot, injured reader, self-loathing John, a hint of fluff, chubby reader, a hint of fat-shaming
John Winchester was a prick. You already knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to work with. Many hunters warned you against ever teaming up with the grumpy and strict hunter. He had the reputation of letting his partners down.
More than once, you heard stories about his ruthlessness and obsession with his dead wife. You were no stranger to obsessing over the monster killing your family.
If anything, you and John were the same. He was obsessed with killing the demon ruining his picture-perfect family. And you were obsessed with hunting the werewolf, killing your whole family.
Still, he wasn’t interested in teaming up with a rookie. John didn’t care that you killed dozens of monsters before you turned sixteen.
“Winchester,” you muttered the moment he and his sons stepped into your godfather’s house. Dean grinned at you, while Sam politely nodded. Only John ignored your presence and brushed past you to talk to Bobby.
“Bobby, we need your help." John talked to your godfather, not you. You rolled your eyes and offered food to his sons. Two could play a game. If he wanted to act like an asshole, you’d ignore his presence.
“Sweetheart, how have you been?” Dean asked as you put food onto a plate. “I see, you are still a skilled cook.”
“If you have been on your own since you turned twelve, you learn a thing or two,” you replied, catching John’s attention. He turned his head to watch you offer food to Sam. You chatted with the sasquatch of a man, exchanging information about a book you found a few months ago.
“Interesting. Can you show me the book?” Sam asked, more interested in the book than the food. While Dean was busy shoveling food into his mouth, his brother thumbed through the book.
“Sam,” John’s angry voice made your stomach churn. “We need your help here.”
“Christ, don’t get your panties in a twist, Winchester. I offered food and knowledge to your son, not my body.” You glared at John before running upstairs. If you had stayed only a moment longer, you would’ve lost your patience and shot him in the ass.
“John, she’s a skilled hunter and knows more about the monster than I could ever learn. If you need help, ask Y/N.” You heard Bobby downstairs. He tried to reason with John, but you already knew the eldest Winchester would rather risk his family’s life than ask you for help.
You pitied Dean and Sam. At least you were on your own and could make your own decisions. No one tried to order you around and tell you what to do.
“I said no,” John barked at your godfather, making you flinch. You hated yourself for thinking about him more sinfully. He wasn’t worth your time or attention.
“Morning, boys,” you chirped when walking into Bobby’s kitchen. Dean followed you with his eyes while his brother stared at his toast, fighting the urge to catch a glimpse of your ass in your too-tight shorts.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Dean replied, his eyes still glued to your ass. “How have you been? We didn’t have the chance to catch up last night.”
“I’m…fine,” you replied with a shrug. “You know how it is. Driving from town to town, always on the search for the big bad.”
“You haven’t had a place to call home in a while, huh?” The eldest brother said, watching your body go stiff. “Sorry. I didn’t want to overstep.”
“It’s fine,” you murmured. “My family was on a camping trip. I was sick and had to stay behind at my grandmother’s place. Two days later, cops stood at her door, telling us that my parents and siblings had been killed by a bear.”
“A bear,” John scoffed.
“Sir,” Dean hissed at his father.
“It was a werewolf,” you replied, venom in your voice. “I knew that the cops lied, just like the park rangers who found my family. No one wanted to believe me. Not my grandmother. Not the cops. Only Bobby and Rufus. They were already investigating the case; they believed me.”
"’cause I did, kiddo. You were smart and already figured out what was going on before we even came into the picture.” Bobby proudly stated. Even though you were a grown woman now, he still called you kiddo.
“She nearly got killed hunting the werewolf down,” John scoffed, a hint of anger in his voice. “If not for you, she’d be dog food.”
“John, it was the other way around. Rufus and I split. I got outnumbered by three werewolves, and Y/N came just in time to save my old ass.” Bobby was about to go ballistic. “I told you more than once that Y/N is one of the most skilled and reliable hunters I know.”
“Bobby, save your breath. John Winchester will never change. He’s a dick, and you know it,” you softly said, patting Bobby’s shoulder. “Dean, take care. Sam, I'll send you the intel I gathered about the case. If you need help, call me.”
You walked out of the room and upstairs, angry at yourself for telling John how you feel about him some months ago.
“Stop acting like a love-sick puppy,” John barked at you. You came just in time to save his sorry ass, only for him to act out again.
“Christ on a cracker, Winchester!” You growled John's way. “I was tipsy and horny back then. I didn’t confess my undying love for you. I only told you that I’d call you daddy if you fucked me good. Maybe my horny self needed to get dicked down. This doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit all the damn time. I got that you’re not into me.”
“You told me that you wanted to be with me,” John argued. He threw his hands up and yelled at you.
You shook your head and scoffed. “You’re so full of yourself. I was drunk, dude. Did you never talk shit when drunk? I didn’t get any for months, and you were there. If it were Dean or Sam, I would’ve said the same.”
“My sons?” John almost looked offended when you told him you would’ve fucked his sons that night. “You won’t get near my sons.”
“Calm down, Daddy Winchester. I’m not going to fuck guys I consider my brothers,” you muttered under your breath. “You know, for a guy who almost died, you are damn ungrateful.”
John watched you walk away. He told you more than once over the last few months that you are not his type. It hurt at first, but you slowly got used to his indifference towards you. It was better this way. Catching feelings in your world was a death sentence.
Three months later, you ran into the Winchesters again—or rather, they ruined your case.
John burst through a door and shot you, not the werewolf. The monster escaped, and they had to take you to their home. The bunker, their legacy and secret hideout, to take care of your wounds.
None of you wanted to explain to a doctor why you had two silver bullets in your arm and leg.
“Fucking great,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Why did you shoot her? I told you it wasn’t a wolf. I clearly saw Y/N.”
“I didn’t see her,” John argued, making you groan. “Stop arguing and get the fucking bullet out of her arm.”
“Guys, this is not the time for another argument. Y/N is bleeding out if you don’t stop,” Sam raised his voice. He wildly gestured toward you lying on a bed in one of the rooms at the bunker. “She’s in pain and needs help.”
“Give me the shit, and I’ll do it myself,” you slurred, high from the meds Dean gave you. “I don’t need a Winchester to ruin my body.”
John scoffed. “You ruined it with yet another chocolate bar yourself.”
“Asshole.” You snapped at John. “Not everyone loves boning a bony girl. Some men like some cushion.”
“A fat huntress is useless.” John’s words cut deep. All the insecurities you buried deep inside of you resurfaced. You sat up and hastily wrapped your scarf around your bleeding leg.
“Y/N, let me fix this.” Dean tried to stop you, but you slowly rose from the bed. You hobbled out of the room, brushed past John, bumping into his side to reach your car. “WAIT!”
“I can fix my wounds. I have done so all my life. I don’t need you, or your shitty father, to help me. If I wanted someone to degrade me, I’d find myself a nice dominant.”
Dean and Sam tried to stop you, but their father barked orders at them. John caught up with you in no time. “Stop being stubborn, Y/N. You got shot.”
“Yeah, thanks to you,” you snapped at John. Pain was no stranger to you. You gritted your teeth and hobbled toward the garage. If only you could reach your car, John Winchester would eat dust.
“Mistakes happen. Okay. Now let me take care of your wounds. I won’t let you walk out there, heavily injured,” John tried to argue, but you simply walked away.
“Fuck off. I’ll live. I don’t need your help.” You scoffed when John suddenly acted as if he cared about your well-being. “Maybe the world is better off without a fat huntress.”
John inhaled sharply. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was angry and lost it there for a moment. You make me lose my mind all the damn time. Now let me take care of you.”
“No!” You pushed John’s hands away when he tried to grab you. “Get off me, or I’ll kill you, Winchester. I’m not one of your hussies you can throw around.”
“I know,” he sighed deeply. “Please let me take care of your wounds. I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t want you to bleed out because of my mistake.”
“He said he’s sorry,” Sam whispered, watching his father grovel. “He never says he’s sorry.”
“I know,” Dean shushed his brother. “We should leave them alone. Right?”
“What if they kill each other?” Sam furrowed his brows. He didn’t want one of you to end up dead. “They hate each other.”
“Nah, they need to get a room,” Dean smirked when you glared his way. “Sweetheart, let him take care of you. He’s skilled.”
“Who asked you, pie boy? I can handle myself well,” you said, even though your head was swimming and you were still bleeding. “I don’t need your daddy’s help.”
John rolled his eyes. He stepped in front of you, sizing you up. “I know you are mad at me, and that you were on your own since that night. But for once, let someone take care of you. I don’t want you to die because of my mistakes.”
“Get a room, you two,” Dean said, walking past you and his father. “Seriously, Y/N. You are bleeding on the floor.” He pointed at the blood dripping onto the floor. “I won’t clean that up. I’m done with cleaning duty this month.”
“You never clean, Dean,” Sam said. “He’s not wrong, though. Please let one of us take care of your wounds. It doesn’t have to be John.”
John narrowed his eyes at Sam. “I will take care of her. You two will go on a grocery run. Check the infirmary first. I want everything to be refilled.”
“Yes. Sir.” Dean huffed but dutifully walked past you and his father. He gave you one last glance, hoping John would take care of you and your wounds.
“Sir, she’s hurt,” Sam added, giving John a warning look. “We’ll be back soon.
John sighed deeply. “Alright, princess. We can do this the nice and soft way.” He said, leaning closer. “I’ll take care of your wounds, and we can have a nice talk. Or—you keep acting out like a toddler, and I’ll put you over my lap and spank your ass raw.”
You sucked in a breath. If not for your bleeding wounds, you’d take John up on his offer. He was the epitome of a sexy dominant. “In your dreams.”
John smirked darkly. He cocked his head before grabbing you roughly.
“I see you are a brat. Well, good thing I’m a strict brat tamer.”
“Do you think you are special?” you muttered while John carefully cleaned your wounds. “You are not. I was tipsy, and you were there. Any dick would’ve worked for me that night.”
“Y/N, what I said was to protect you,” John murmured, not stopping to wipe your wound. “Falling for a Winchester is a death sentence.” He stopped for a second to look at you. “I lost Mary. Sammy lost Jess. Dean had to give up on Lisa and Ben.”
“Winchester, you lost Mary because she made a deal with a fucking demon and didn’t tell you about it,” you hissed when he pressed a sterile dressing against your wound. “She started all of this.”
“You’re cursing my dead wife?” John furrowed his brows, but a smirk crept onto his face. “You know it’s not nice to talk shit about the dead.”
“If you call me a fat huntress, I call your dead wife a selfish cunt.”
“I think that’s a first,” John laughed. “No one called my dead wife a cunt before,” he said with a cracked smile. “She made a few wrong decisions to save me.”
You fell back onto the pillow and sighed. “I can’t blame her. Maybe I would’ve done the same to save someone I love.”
John hummed, making quick work of wrapping your wounds up. “As good as new,” he teasingly said. “So, what do you want to eat?”
Your eyes dropped to his crotch, earning a chuckle from the eldest Winchester.
“Nothing.” You pouted and looked away. “Maybe the fat huntress shouldn’t eat all the damn time to lose weight.”
“Y/N, I didn’t mean what I said, okay. I’m an idiot who cares deeply about you and cannot show it. I’m too scared to get you killed,” John’s voice dropped lower as he moved a little closer. “But I almost killed you today. I guess the risk of a demon getting your cute ass isn’t much higher than killing you myself.”
“That’s not very comforting,” you said. Still angry about the insult and John’s behavior earlier, you weren’t ready to forgive him so easily. “You should know better than to shoot a fellow hunter.”
“Do you want to shoot me, too?” He teased. “I give you a free shot, Y/N. I’m a reasonable man.”
“Reasonable? John Winchester?” You scoffed. “Darling, you are far from being a reasonable man.”
“How about I get you food?” John slowly got up from the bed. “What do you like?”
“Surprise me,” you grunted. “Maybe you get at least a sandwich right, Winchester.”
John snorted. “I’ll get you something nice to make you shut up. I’ll stuff your mouth good…” He cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “with food.”
“He’s making food for her,” Sam commented, watching his father cook. John never cooks. He always waits for Dean to take the lead when it comes to cooking. “What if he poisons her?”
“I think he tries to impress Y/N,” Dean whispered so as not to catch his father’s attention. “We should leave them to…uh…whatever is going on between them.”
“Nothing is going on between that old man and me,” you grunted. Dean watched you use a crutch to walk inside the kitchen. “Do you have bread? I wanna make a sandwich.”
“I’m cooking,” John muttered under his breath. “And, I told you not to move around. You got shot.”
“You shot me,” you sassed back. “It’s not my fault you’re old and half-blind.”
“I’m not blind!” John stopped stirring the chili he prepared for you to walk toward you. “I’ll bring you back to your room.”
“I can walk!”
“You can’t do shit without me,” John growled as his sons watched you start another fight.
“We should leave these lovebirds alone.” Dean made a retching noise. He didn’t want to watch John’s bad flirting skills. “I need to clean my eyes with bleach. It’s disgusting watching them flirt.”
“Shut up!” You and John turned your heads to yell at his sons. The brothers left without another word. You watched them leave before turning your attention toward their father.
“Your food better taste good.”
“It’s the best you’ll ever have,” John seductively purred in your ear. “You need to eat it all up. You’ll need the energy for…recovery…”
I am glad John got his head out of his ass and told Y/N how he feels. Still though the way he was slinging insults masking it as his way of protecting her wasn't right.
They've got a long way to go but I feel like they could make things work.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader, Dean Winchester x OC Charlene Mary (daughter)
Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of fighting/mild violence, daddy Dean
A/N: Loosely inspired by a scene from the movie Homefront.
“Dean…what if our little girl is hurt?” You were shaking in fear after you received a call from school. They didn’t want to tell you anything on the phone, but you were sure something terrible must have happened.
“If anyone or anything hurt my daughter, they are dead,” Dean angrily muttered under his breath. He has his arm slung around your middle to keep himself from going ballistic in school. “I will kill them all if I must.”
“Dean!” You hissed at your husband. “Not here, not now. Let’s find out what happened first.”
“Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Winchester,” the principal stormed toward you and your husband. “Your daughter! How dare she! We do not tolerate violence at our school.”
Dean whispered something in your ear before letting go of you. “What happened?” Dean took one step toward the principal, glaring down at the angry little man. “Why are you screaming at us?”
“Where’s my daughter? What happened?” You ignored the principal and walked straight toward your daughter’s favorite teacher. “Mrs. Caine, can you tell me what happened?”
“Your daughter defended herself against a bully,” the teacher replied, grabbing your hand. “Don’t worry, she’s unharmed, Mrs. Winchester. She’s waiting at my office.”
“There will be consequences!” The principal didn’t give in. He glared at your husband, trying to intimidate a man who faced hell and purgatory. “Your daughter attacked my son without a reason.”
“Sir, that’s not true,” Mrs. Caine stepped in. “The other kids saw that your son stole Y/D/N’s backpack and emptied its contents on the floor. She warned him three times to stop, but he pushed her, and she fell. One of her friends came to me, and I saw how he pushed her. I was about to step in when Y/D/N fought back.”
“That’s my girl,” ever the proud father, Dean smirked at the principal. “She won’t take shit from anyone. Not even a bully who gets backed up by the principal. What kind of father supports a bully?”
“He’s a good boy. Maybe he tried to defend himself.” The principal still defended his son’s behavior. It didn’t occur to him that a boy attacking a girl who’s smaller and a year younger than him is a bully.
Dean’s features darkened as he said, “You are telling me that the boy over there, holding his cheek, is your son? He’s a head taller than my daughter and older. If I see him anywhere near my daughter again, a swollen cheek will be his least problem.”
“Dean,” you tried to calm your husband. “Don’t. He’s just a kid. We will find a solution.”
“Your daughter attacked my son!” The principal still didn’t give in. “She will never set foot into this school again.”
“My daughter didn’t start the fight,” Dean said, unusually calm. He looked the principal straight in the eyes when leaning closer. “I taught my daughter to never start a fight, but she has my permission to end a fight and to defend herself. Even if a principal is backing her bully up, I will have her back.”
“I think we should involve someone above your pay grade,” you took over, striding toward the principal with confidence. “I think the district superintendent would love to hear that you are threatening a little girl who defended herself against your son. I have her on short dial.”
Dean smirked when you got your phone out. “She’s damn serious,” he said. “My wife never bluffs.”
It didn’t take long for the principal to cave in. He forced his son to apologize to your daughter and ran off.
“Daddy, Mommy!" Your daughter jumped up from her seat the moment you stepped inside the room. She ran toward Dean, proudly telling him the self-defense training had paid off.
“Y/D/N, Daddy is very proud of you for defending yourself. Never let anyone hurt you,” Dean said. He wrapped his arms around your daughter, holding back the urge to never let her go.
“You did well,” you said, watching your husband hold your daughter in his arms. “Let’s go home.”
Dean hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to let go of your daughter. Your husband tried to hide that he was scared out of his mind, fearing something had happened to Charlene.
“Let’s go home, Daddy. I want to tell Uncle Sammy about my fight. I bet he’ll be proud because I hit the boy with a book!”
I'm glad the teacher knew what actually happened. That principal is a piece of work and no doubt probably bully in their younger years. Maybe they still are since they seem to be condoning the son's behavior. Y/N and Dean daughter was defending herself. She wasn't in the wrong. Papa and Mama Bear mode activated protecting their cub. I love how Deam was proud of her for defending herself and Y/N's bluff about having the super intendant on speed dial.
Warnings: angst, mentions of miscarriage (no description)
Catch up here: Reconvene
Beth helped you calm down and talked to you for hours. You felt like a fool for still hoping that Sam didn’t move on. All this time, you imagined he was suffering as much as you did.
Today, you realized, he didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse. He moved on with his life while you were left alone. You had to pick up the shards of the future he shattered with his cold indifference.
“You should go home, Beth,” you softly say. She’s a good friend and wanted to stay with you. “I know you want to stay, but Garth is alone with the kids, and you need a rest. You’ve been there for me all day.”
Beth hesitates. She doesn’t want to leave you alone. Not after you ran into Sam and his new woman earlier that day. “Y/N, you could come with me. Garth will be happy to see you today.”
“No, I,” you try to find an excuse to turn her down. “I need to prepare a few things for work, and…” You shake your head. “Honestly, I need to be alone for a little while. Seeing Sam today felt like the wound that barely healed cracked open again. Let me lick my wounds, and we can meet up over the weekend. I’ll babysit.”
She gives you a knowing look, but still hesitates to leave. “If you need anything, we are one call away. You’re not alone this time.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, and hug her tightly. “For everything, Beth.”
Four days later, you walk into the library with Beth and Garth’s kids. They are chirping and giggling as you try to find a good spot. Today, there’s a special event for kids. A few authors of children’s books will read to the kids, and you want your godchildren to have a nice day.
“Auntie,” Garth Jr. babbles. He guides you toward a free spot, near one of his friends from daycare. You follow him and sit down, smiling as his sister Gertie crawls onto your lap. She clings to you as the first author begins reading their book to the children.
Garth Jr. tugs at your sleeve, trying to get your attention. “Auntie Y/N, that man looks at you,” he whispers as you finally lift your gaze from the girl in your lap to Sam, who is staring your way. He furrows his brows, eyes scanning over the children by your side.
“He’s tall,” Gertie whimpers. She’s not wrong. Sam is a tall man. A little girl like her must feel even smaller in comparison to Sam’s size.
“Ignore him,” you softly whisper, hoping Sam won’t cause a scene with the kids around. “He must’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Sam walks toward a shelf near your seat. He picks a book, pretending to read, as you try to focus on the author and the children needing your attention. You can feel Sam’s eyes bore into your back and uncomfortably shift in your seat.
Gertie and Garth Jr. listen to the stories the next author reads to them with interest. They gasp, cheer, and giggle, completely absorbed in the stories. You smile and hug Gertie tightly, feeling better because they kept you from looking over your shoulder.
Much too soon for the kids' liking, the event is over. They reluctantly get up, sighing as you must leave. You forgot about Sam, only recognizing him when he steps in your way.
“Y/N,” he says your name, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are they…I mean…two…I…”
You scoff at his question. “You don’t deserve to know.”
“Please, I need to know if they are mine." Sam won’t budge. He blocks your path, eyes searching your face.
“The night I called you, and you ignored me,” your voice cracks, and you look away. “I lost the baby. They are Garth and Beth’s. Not that this is any of your business.”
Garth Jr. glares at Sam. He stomps on Sam’s foot, flashing the tall man a smirk. “Get away, you meanie. Leave Auntie Y/N alone.”
“Y/N…” Sam tries, but you brush past him. “Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” You look over your shoulder and snap at Sam. “You didn’t answer your damn phone. A nurse held my hand while I lost our baby.” You hiss under your breath. “But don’t worry. You have a new girl lined up. And congratulations on getting her pregnant.”
Sam can only watch you storm off with the kids. He’s shocked and can’t get a word out. “What girl?”
Warnings: angst, mentions of break-up/being ghosted, mentions of miscarriage (no description), Sam being an asshole?, no happy end
Words: 300
Prompt for January 16th: “But it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then.”
A/N: Written for @societynsoelsscribbles - JanuaryJumbleScribbles.
He left. That’s all you remember about the time with Sam Winchester. No, that’s not true. It’s the only part you allow yourself to remember to not break down all over again.
After that, the days were gray, and you started to pull away from people again.
He gave you hope, only to shatter it when he took not only his love but your future away from you.
Now he’s back in town, another woman on his arm. She smiles sweetly and seems to be happy. Her hand subconsciously strokes her belly, and your stomach tightens.
You were the same not so long ago, until Sam told you he didn’t want children. It was a shock, yes, but you believed you could work things out. Pregnancy sometimes changes relationships, but it doesn’t mean you must fall apart.
Sam thought differently. The very next day, he was gone. He ghosted you, ignoring your calls. Even the one you made from the hospital. Until today, Sam doesn’t know you wanted to tell him that you lost the baby.
It wasn’t in your plans to run into Sam Winchester, the man breaking not only your heart. Since he left you like you never meant anything to him, you have trust issues and anxiety.
While he moved on to the next woman, you are stuck in the past.
“He’s not worth it, you know.” You sigh at your friend’s words. She’s right, you know that. “Whatever you had wasn’t real, or worth your tears.”
“But it feels real to me now; it felt real to me then.” You choke out. “He moved on to her and looks happy, while I’m barely hanging on.”
“We should go,” Beth urges you to follow her out of the store. “Forget about that asshole.”
My heartbreaks for Y/N running into Sam. What makes it worse is she lost their baby and his new partner is pregnant. They really should talk though. So much left unsaid.
Sam flees out of the kitchen before the burned bacon Dean tried to prepare for breakfast hits the wall. It ended up burned, just like every day since you cursed Dean.
“Sonofabitch! That fucking witch!” Dean curses inside the kitchen. “Sammy, we need to kill her! Get the witch-killing bullets. We are going to war! Witch war!”
“Dean,” Sam sighs deeply. “You burned the bacon because you were leaving the kitchen. Last time, you were playing with your phone. This has nothing to do with Y/N.”
“You should be on my side!” Dean throws a plate at the wall. “She cursed me, Sammy. Why won’t you believe me?”
“You two should get a room and get it done with,” Sam replies with a smirk.
“What did you say?" Dean storms out of the kitchen to size his brother up. “I hope I misheard. I’m warning you, Sammy. Y/N is the enemy.”
Sam shrugs. He’s had enough of his brother’s antics. For weeks, Dean was in a bad mood. He heard through the grapevine that you closed your shop and moved away. “Just tell this to yourself.”
“She’s the worst and cursed my bacon,” Dean mutters under his breath. He can’t believe his brother is on your side in this. “And my dick.”
Sam makes a face. He shudders and turns to go back to bed. “I don’t want to hear about anything involving your lower half. Go find her and make up, or eat burned bacon for the rest of your life.”
Dean is fuming. He wasted two weeks of his life to find you. It was hard work to find out that the little witch ruining his bacon lives in the same town now.
You decided to leave town and start over a few months ago because the guy who wanted to rekindle the flame with his wife came for you. He tried to get his money back. Another unsatisfied client.
“Unbelievable,” the hunter exclaims while storming into your new, smaller shop. “Out of all the places you could choose, my place!”
“What the fuck!” You growl at the hunter. “You’re not welcome here. You are bad for my business and jinx my spells all the time. Get out!”
“Like hell!” He points a gun at your head—talk about bad habits. “You will take back that bacon and dick curse first. I can’t have bacon! Even when I try to order it, it’s always burned. I haven’t had bacon in months.”
Dean Winchester, the fearless hunter, pouts.
“How is that my fault?” You furrow your brows.
“You cursed me!” He insists. “The bacon, my dick…everything.”
“Oh…that.” You snicker. “That wasn’t a curse, Winchester. I toyed with you. If I wanted to curse you, I’d be something more creative and painful.”
“A life without perfectly crisp bacon is painful,” Dean argues. He points at his crotch and then gets a pack of bacon out of his jacket.”
“What’s that?” You cock your head. “Is that bacon?”
“You will fry the bacon for me and take that curse back!” Dean throws the bacon at you, grunting when it ends up on the ground. “Pick it up and get to work, or I’ll shoot you.”
“What’s in it for me?” You smirk darkly. “You ruined my reputation, and I can’t make new candles because you stole my self-confidence.”
Dean laughs as you sigh dramatically. “It’s not my fault your candles suck. You can’t even get the scent right.”
“That’s it,” you growl. “I will use another curse.” You smirk darkly when running your fingertips over one of your spell books. “I will ruin pie and beer for you, too.”
“No!” Dean’s eyes widen. He doesn’t hesitate. It takes him five seconds to lunge at you and tackle you to the ground. “You will not use another spell on me.”
“Curse,” you hiss, and wiggle underneath the hunter. “I will curse you, Winchester. All pies will taste like old socks, and beer will taste like mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” He cocks a brow. “Why mushrooms?” Dean wonders while pinning you to the ground.
“Uh—it came to my mind first,” you reply with a smirk. You wiggle a little harder, trying to get out of his hold. “It seems like you are enjoying this a little too much, Winchester. Get off me.”
Dean is about to say something when the door opens, and the little bell above the door hits Sam straight in the forehead. “I see you followed my advice.” Sam grins, looking at Dean still pinning you to the ground. “You'd better get a room, you two.”
“Who asked you?” You and Dean say in unison. You stared at each other before starting another fight…
A/N: Written for @societynsoelsscribbles JanuaryJumbleScribbles.
Prompt for January 4th: “Here’s another curse. May all your bacon burn.”
Words: 371
Dean fucking Winchester. Hunter. Cocky asshole. Bane of your existence.
He had to come to town and ruin your next deal. Why do hunters always have to fuck with your business? You meant no harm to the man coming to you for advice.
Just a little love potion to get his wife back. She was out and about with some other guy, letting her fitness trainer do unspeakable things to her.
Her husband simply wanted to get a taste too. He paid for her luxurious life for ten years, only for her to run off with a man half her age.
“What do you want, Winchester?” You snarl at the hunter, aiming your index finger at him. The pendant dangling from your neck starts to glow. “I’m warning you, hunter. If you keep on messing with my deals, I’ll curse you.”
Dean snorts. He aims his gun at your head, daring you to curse him.
“Do your worst. I’m wearing a charm, and my gun is filled with witch-killing bullets, sweetheart.”
Scoffing, you aim your index finger at his crotch. “Your cock shall remain soft whenever you want to fuck a woman that isn’t me.”
“What?” He looks shocked for a second but finds his composure in no time. He’s a damn cocky bastard, after all. “As if you could ever curse me, Y/N. You can’t even make scented candles.”
“That’s a lie,” you mutter.
“People almost died because of the smell.” Dean quirks a brow when you wring your hands. “Imagine, someone lit a candle to get his girl in the mood, and suddenly, she’s gasping for air.”
“My candles are the best.”
“Just tell this to yourself. I bet the poor guy won’t get a chance with his ex-wife.” The hunter laughs when your face falls. He’s not wrong. Most of the time, your magic fails you.
“Fine, you asked for it!” You angrily glare at Dean. “Here’s another curse. May all your bacon burn.”
Dean steps back, gasping for air. How can you be so cruel? “No.”
“Oh yeah. You will run around with a limp dick and will never eat bacon again.” You smirk darkly at the hunter. “That’s what you get for messing with my business.”
A/N: A little drabble collection of Alpha Sam and shop owner reader.
He’s back in town for a case, casually walking into your little shop.
You’re used to hunters roaming your shop. Charms, exotic weapons, rare books, and anything in between are your specialty.
More than once, even the infamous Winchesters came to you for advice and to use your supplies to kill what goes bump in the night.
You try to act normal while inhaling his intoxicating scent deeply.
Sam acts as if your scent doesn’t influence him. He walks around the shop, looking at books, crystals, and finally an angel blade.
“That’s brand-new. I got it last month,” you coo, trying to get Sam’s attention. He furrows his brow, lost in thought, when his brother walks into your shop.
“Sweetheart!” Dean exclaims, waving at you. “How have you been? How’s business?”
“You know, it’s a small town, and if you are not around, business is slow.” You wink back at Dean, making the hunter chuckle.
“Sammy, did ya hear? Y/N missed us,” he says. Dean rolls his eyes when Sam still doesn’t react. “You can buy all the books after we talk to Y/N.”
“What?” Sam cocks his head to look your way. “Oh, yeah.” The hunter sheepishly looks your way. He sighs but walks toward you to place the angel blade on the counter. “Y/N, this product is dangerous. You shouldn’t sell angel blades.”
“It’s not a real one.” You roll your eyes. “It’s made in China, dude.” Dean snickers at his brother’s pained expression. Sam doesn’t want to admit he was distracted because he had only eyes for you.
“That’s good, sweetheart. It saved you from getting spanked by Sammy,” Dean jokes, but there was something in your eyes that only Sam saw for a moment.
“I wouldn’t mind a good spanking,” you say, making Sam back paddle, and Dean choke on his spit. “Just saying, a man who knows how to use his hands isn’t too bad to have around.”
“Uh—Sammy, I’ll be out at the bar for a few drinks and the nice bartender I interviewed earlier.” Dean is suddenly all too eager to leave your store. He says his goodbyes and is out of your door before you can blink.
“So…no real angel blade?” Sam clears his throat as you are still staring at the door, slamming shut behind Dean.
“No…I know my limits.” You shrug. “I don’t need these feathered dudes to walk into my store and make a mess.”
Sam laughs at your words. “We are in town for a case. Mind if I borrow a few of your books?”
“Not at all. I’ve missed the infamous Winchesters,” you reply with a wink. “It’s a little boring here when you two are not around.”
“Did you miss me too?” Sam asks; his voice is a little rougher now. He steps closer to the counter again, looking down at you.
“Parts of you…” Your comeback makes Sam smirk. He dips his head to look at the door to be sure his brother won’t come back. “The most important ones…”
“Good.” He walks toward the door, locks it, and turns the sign. “I had hoped you did not forget about the most important parts…”
Nothing like some Alpha Sam. I loved how he was bashful in public but pure alpha in private. Sound likes they are going to have good time with that visit. Hopefully they'll finally be fully together.
Warnings: angst, ruined friendship, breakups (not the reader), hopeful ending
Words: 376
Prompt for January 24th “Don’t move. I want to feel this.”
A/N: Written for @societynsoelsscribbles - JanuaryJumbleScribbles.
You sighed deeply at the sight of your best friend and his girlfriend. For months, you told him she’s not good for him. Not out of jealousy. The feelings you harbored for Dean got buried years ago.
You decided the two of you should remain friends. Relationships just don’t work out for Dean or you. You truly cared about Dean and wanted him to know that you caught Stefanie getting all cozy with some other guy. Dean didn’t listen; he believed her lies.
“Dean, Stefanie,” you said, barely hiding the bitterness in your voice. Dean was your best friend, but Stefanie turned him against you.
Only five weeks ago, Dean called you on the verge of tears. Your friend barely cries, so you left your apartment in your pajamas to drive to his place.
Dean told you that Stefanie was cheating on him with a colleague. Well, no shit. You told him so months ago, but he wouldn’t hear you out.
You helped him cope, baked him a pie, and promised Dean you would always be there for him. That was until he decided to give Stefanie another chance. She told him to cut ties with you, and he did.
“Y/N,” Stefanie quipped, cutting Dean off. He didn’t get the chance to greet you because she dragged him toward a group of your friends.
They were all enchanted by her, and you didn’t stand a chance. Within an hour, rumors spread that you tried to break them up. You inhaled sharply, trying to ignore their harsh words and stares.
A part of you wanted to leave, but you stood tall, telling yourself, “Don’t move. I want to feel this. I must feel this to end our friendship for good.”
A month later, Dean stood in front of your apartment, his eyes bloodshot, and withering flowers in his hands. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I was a dumbass.”
“Let me guess, she cheated again?” You scoffed but invited him in. “And yes, you are a dumbass.”
Dean hesitated, looking at you. “Why’d you agree to help me? I was a complete dumbass for taking her back and talking like that to you.”
“Well, you are a dumbass,” you replied, bumping your hip into his. “But you are my dumbass…”
Oh Y/N forgave him way to easy. She should have made him earn that forgiveness. At least he finally saw the light. He was truly a dumbass for letting his ex come between them.
Warnings: awful blind date, alternative universe, lonely Dean
A/N: This is an alternative universe in which Sam never got back into hunting.
Blind dates are the worst. You only agreed to meet up with the guy walking in front of you because your co-worker wouldn’t stop telling you about her brother.
He had already had three strikes, and you didn’t even have an appetizer yet.
He yelled at the poor parking attendant and harassed the hostess because she didn’t find the reservation he never made. Luckily, you called in advance, knowing men can’t take care of shit most of the time. At least the assholes you dated so far.
Ever the gentleman, he pushed you out of his way to enter the restaurant first, the door slamming in your face.
It took everything in you not to turn on your heels and run for the hills. You only stayed because his sister is the sweetest, and you didn’t want to hurt her.
Erik, your blind date plopped down on his chair, watching you awkwardly stand in front of the table. You dated idiots before, but he tried to outshine them all.
“Miss, let me,” the waiter offered, pulling your chair. You thanked him with a smile, while your date already buried his nose into the menu. He ordered, slamming the menu shut before waving off the waiter. You didn’t get the chance to order food before he started munching on the breadsticks the restaurant offers for free.
“So…do you want to go to my place after dinner?” Erik gave you what he believed was his irresistible smirk. He puffed his chest and winked at you.
“No, we just met, and I’m getting to know you,” you answered, a little shell-shocked, he believed, after knowing you for not half an hour that you wanted to have sex with him.
Erik blinked a few times, not believing you turned him down. “Well, in that case, you can pay your half of the bill. I’m not feeding someone who only agreed to go out with me for a free meal.”
“A free meal,” you scoffed, and tossed your napkin on the table. “I agreed to go on a date with you because your sister begged me to give you a chance. It seems my instinct was right. You’re a pig.”
Just in time, the waiter came with your food, and you immediately asked him to switch tables. The waiter looked around the restaurant, eyes landing on a man eating alone at a table for four.
“I could ask the gentleman if he’d be willing to share his table with you. He’s eating alone,” the waiter said, offering the only available seat to you. “Give me a minute.”
You cocked your head to look at the man, suddenly recognizing the FBI agent who interrogated you and your colleagues this morning. He was a nice guy, with a cocky attitude and stunning emerald eyes.
“If he agrees, I’d gladly pay for his meal.” You slowly rose from your seat to follow the waiter, ignoring Erik, who was calling you names.
On the other table, the agent looked at you and the waiter. His eyes lit up, and he offered a free seat to you. “I’d gladly share the table with you, Miss Y/L/N. It’s my birthday, and my brother couldn’t make it.”
There was a kind of sadness in his eyes when he mentioned his brother that made your chest tighten. “Thank you, Agent…”
“Just Dean,” he was quick to reply, offering a stunning smile. “How come you eat alone, sweetheart?”
You sat down and explained to Dean what happened with your blind date. He squared his jaw and offered to punch Erik’s face, but you stopped him.
“Why are you spending your birthday all alone?” You asked, watching Dean’s face fall. He looked exhausted and a little sad. “No one should spend their birthday alone.”
“It’s…” He shook his head. How could he explain to you that he was the last Winchester standing? The only one still hunting the evil. His father died years ago, and after Sam left for Stanford, they barely had contact. Sam didn’t even show when Dean invited him to his birthday dinner. “Complicated…family is complicated. Not that I have much of a family left.”
“Crap, Dean. I shouldn’t have asked,” you softly said, patting his hand. “I don’t have many people in my life either. Let me get you a cake. You know, for your birthday.”
“I prefer pie,” he sadly murmured, because no one remembered his birthday.
“Pie it is.” You called for the waiter, ordering the best pie in town for Dean and you. If no one were going to celebrate his birthday, you’d be there for him. He stopped the killings in town after all.
You and Dean ate, chatted, and laughed. And when it was time for the pie, you sang "Happy Birthday" to Dean with the waiter. He smiled sadly but looked a little more hopeful after eating the pie.
When it was time to leave, you grabbed his hand and walked toward his car with Dean. You didn’t go home with Erik but invited Dean to come home with you.
Maybe, just maybe. One night would lead to more than passion and a shared pie…
So bittersweet and heartwarming at the same time. Its heartbreaking that Sam and Dean are longer close. Y/N's blind date is an asshole and a pig. Fate intervened with the only place left to sit is where Dean was. They were there when each other needed someone It's good he didn't have to spend his birthday alone this time. I can see their meeting blossoming into something more.
A/N: Written for @societynsoelsscribbles - JanuaryJumbleScribbles.
“How about this one?” You ask, pointing at the next bed. “It looks sturdy—jump-proof.”
“Nah, that’s boring.” Dean brushes your suggestion off. He’s looking for a cool bed for your son.
Dean Jr. nods, agreeing with his father as he often does. They are a dynamic duo.
You sigh. They outnumbered you once again. “Fine, have it your way. But remember, if he ends up with no bed. You started this.”
“We will find the perfect bed for Dean Jr., don’t you worry, Sweetheart,” Dean chuckles when you walk away to get more pillows you’ll never need. He follows you with his eyes, admiring your backside before turning his attention back toward the beds. “Alright, which one do you like?”
“Hmm…” Dean Jr. furrows his brows while looking at the beds. “I want a racecar bed. Do you think they have an Impala here?” He cocks his head to look up at his father. “Daddy?”
‘Like father, like son.’ He thinks, smirking at his son’s answer. “A racecar bed is nice, but what will you do when you get a girlfriend one day?”
Dean Jr. smirks at Dean. He puts his hands on his hips, imitating his father. “I’ll do the same as you did with Mommy. I’ll take her for the ride of her life.”
Your eyes widen, and you gasp loudly. Dean Jr. must’ve heard Dean talk dirty to you last weekend. Sam was taking care of your son, and you wanted to do something naughty and role-play with your husband.
He was the naughty driver, and you were the sassy tramp. Dean offered you the ride of your life before Sam and your son walked in on you.
“Well played, Dean Jr.” Dean grinned from ear to ear, watching your eyes grow wide. “You always offer a lady a ride and make sure she comes home safely.”
Same game almost every evening. You come home from work and cook for your alpha, only for his mother to call him for help.
Dean comes up with the stupidest excuses. A broken dishwasher, a raccoon raiding his mother’s fridge, and a peeping tom sneaking around her house.
You have had enough fights over her antics. Mary doesn’t understand that she is no longer the omega of his pack. You are.
Tonight, you came up with the perfect plan to keep your alpha at home. You cooked his favorite meal, baked a delicious cherry pie, and the cherry on top is the sexy lingerie you bought on your way home. A little pre-Christmas gift for your mate.
There’s no way your alpha can resist pie and you.
“Sweetheart, I’m home,” he calls, walking into the kitchen, his stomach growling.
"Hey baby," you reply, winking at your alpha.
“Oh, you cooked,” Dean says, sheepishly looking at you. “Umm… Mom called on my way home. She has a problem with one of the windows and is cooking to pay me back for my help.”
“You agreed to spending another evening with your mom without telling me, so?” You narrow your eyes. “I cooked for hours!”
“It’s one dinner, Y/N. I… I’m sorry. She feels so lonely since Dad is away so often.” You harrumph and cross your arms over your chest.
“I slowly understand why John is away most of the time.” You hiss at your alpha, ready to throw the food you prepared at him. “You won’t go over there tonight. If so, you’ll regret it.”
“She’s my mom, baby,” he tries to use his scent and alpha voice to make you melt in his arms. No such luck tonight. Maybe your omega wants to roll over and please your alpha, but the pissed woman won’t let her. “It’s an hour or two.”
You pucker your lips, looking at Dean. “It’s the whole fucking evening for two months straight. We barely see each other, and if we have some time, your mom keeps you away from me.”
“I’ll hurry and won’t eat at her place. I swear,” Dean purrs your name before kissing your cheek. “She’s my mom.”
“Fine,” you snap at Dean. “Go and eat her food too. Obviously, you hate my food and would rather spend your time with mommy than me.”
Dean sighs when you throw your apron at him and walk out of the kitchen. He’s torn between helping his mother and pleasing his mate.
“One last time. Dad will be back over the weekend.”
You’re against wasting food, but tonight you’ll put your foot down and prove a point.
Instead of saving Dean’s portion and putting it in the fridge, you throw it away.
You ate a slice of the pie you made for Dean, and the rest joined his food in the trash. You put a cherry on top of it, smirking darkly.
“If you fuck with your mate, you won’t get my food. Have fun eating at mommy’s place every day from now on,” you snicker, knowing how much it will pain Dean that he missed out on a slice of pie. On the other hand, you’re sure his mommy gave him all he needs.
“Y/N? Sweetheart?” Three hours later, Dean sneaks around your house, still hungry. He sniffs, searching for the food you prepared for him. “Baby?” He switches the light in the kitchen on, heart stuttering at the sight of the cherry pie that lies abandoned in the trash. “Nooooo! Who did this to you, pie?”
He whines low in his throat, debating whether to save some of the pie. Your alpha paces around the trash, eyes glued to the ruined pie.
“Why, pie?”
“What’s the fuss about?” You sleepily rub your eyes. “Can you stop being so loud? I have work tomorrow.”
“Uh—why did you throw the pie and my dinner away?” He wildly gestures toward the trash. “What did the pie ever do to you?”
“Well, you left to eat at your mommy’s place. Again. If you don’t stay for dinner, it tells me you hate my food and spending time with me. From now on, I’ll only cook for myself. You can eat with mommy every night and day. I don’t care any longer.”
“What? I…” Dean splutters. His eyes widen when he finally looks at you. You’re wearing the sexy red satin négligée you bought. His mouth waters, and his pupils are blown. “Sweetheart…” Your alpha purrs now, forgetting about his rumbling stomach. “I could just eat you.”
“No. I’m not on the menu, either. If you don’t spend time with me, you won’t get sex either.” You twirl around and walk away, leaving your horny and hungry alpha behind.
“But…sweetheart… Uh…she didn’t cook for me! It was a trick to get me to come over,” he whines low in his throat. “Y/N? Omega? Please???”
Your heart aches, and your omega whimpers in the back of your mind. Every fiber of your body and soul screams for you to help your alpha and feed him. “No. Not this time. He’ll never learn if I give in again…”
Dean tries again, but you refuse to make him food or even let him scent you.
You even locked the bedroom door to keep your alpha away from you for the first time since you mated.
Tonight, he can wallow in regret. Maybe tomorrow he’ll think about what he did to you by leaving every time his mother called.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Dean ushers you inside the kitchen the moment he hears you. “I made breakfast. Your favorite and I brewed tea for you.”
Your alpha pulls the chair for you, pecking your cheek before he prepares a plate for you.
“Uh—I’m sorry for last night and the other nights.” He clears his throat, hoping to get back in your good graces. “You put so much effort into cooking for me, and the pie, and the lingerie. I shouldn’t have left to help my mom.”
“Dean, I would never stop you from helping your mom, you know that. But…” You try to find the right words. “Your mother must respect our bond. She cannot come up with random excuses to lure you in. Why does she never ask me to come with you? I could help her make dinner while you fix whatever she broke on purpose.”
“You’re right,” your alpha agrees. “She’s…out of control. I know she’s missing Dad, but this is no excuse for disturbing our alone time. I didn’t get any food last night.” He drops his head, whining again, to mourn the smashed pie. “I didn’t get to taste the pie. All because of her.”
You chuckle but narrow your eyes when he steps closer to sniff at your neck. “Whose fault is that? You could’ve come back right away. I waited for two hours before throwing the food away.”
“I’ll stay here from now on.” Dean seems to be honest when he says, “I told Mom that if the house isn’t on fire, not to call me again.”
“We can help her if she needs us, Dean. All I want is for your mother to respect boundaries and not to interfere with my cycle. Last night would have been the perfect night for another try.”
“Last night…” Dean’s eyes darken. He sniffs at your neck again, purring low in his throat. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell you’re fertile. I guess we will both call in sick.”
“What about your mother?” You squeal when Dean grabs your waist. “Maybe you should ask if she needs help first.”
“Sweetheart. I will have my hands full breeding this cunt,” he growls in your ear. “And I called Dad yesterday. I told him my mate refused to let me scent her and threw my pie away. He’ll have a serious conversation with Mom.”
“Means he’ll make amends for leaving her alone for so long…”
Well Dean what did you expect for the food to be waiting for you? Good on Y/N for setting boundaries. It was about time see saw the error of being at his mother's beck and call. I hate how Mary thinks she's the only omega in his life. It's good John will have long talk with her.
dededos
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
titsay
origamiaround
