Warnings: body image issues, swearing, fight
A/N: I decided to combine these two requests since they would have resulted in very similar stories.
IMPORTANT: I know this topic can be very sensitive, and as someone who has had her own struggles with weight/body image/eating disorder, I just want to tell each and every one of you that you are so much more than a number on the scale, whether it’s high or low. People who love and care about you do not care about your jean size. What matters is being the healthiest and happiest version of you, no matter what that looks like. "Healthy" is different on every single body type. And most important is a healthy mind. Being able to have a comfortable relationship with your body is SO important.
But if you are struggling, it’s okay, because recovery is such a beautiful thing and I promise you it’s possible. Recovery from an eating disorder, or just recovery from hating yourself and/or your body.
Also, eating disorders do not come in one size. Even when I was at my lowest, I was never “anorexic.” But that does not mean I didn’t have an eating disorder. And just because you don’t fall into the stigma of what eating disorders look like or weigh, does not mean you don’t need help. I use to think I didn’t have one because I didn’t look anorexic and for the longest time didn’t consider myself in need of help because of that. Unhealthy relationships with food and your body are a disorder.
If you ever need help, please call 1-800-931-2237, it’s the hotline for the national eating disorder association.
I’ve worked for them and still volunteer when I can. It’s a beautiful organization that can help you so much.
I love you all, and you’re all so beautiful ❤️
As you get ready for the night out, you stand in front of the mirror, looking yourself up and down.
You sigh, your eyes falling to the ground as you turn away from your reflection.
All you ever see is someone who’s too skinny, who was always teased and picked on for something out of your control.
You tried to gain weight over the years, but it just wasn’t something your body did.
But it made you feel less womanly.
Guys always looked over you at bars, and people still thought you were in school because of how young it made you look.
And it crushed you when the three of you were investigating the Pishtaco in Stillwater, Minnesota and Dean had made a comment about liking “a little extra cushion.” You had no cushion. And it sucked knowing the man who you loved wouldn’t want anything to do with you.
You jump as someone knocks on the door, breaking you from your thoughts.
“Ready, Y/N?” Dean yells through the door.
You grab your purse and avoiding the mirror as you run out into the hallway.
The boys are already waiting in the car by the time you get to the garage.
You see Dean’s eyes follow you, first in his sideview mirror, then in the rearview mirror as you jump into the back.
"You look nice.” He comments as he turns on the engine and pulls out of the garage.
You give him a small smile, thinking he’s just being kind.
“Thanks.” You mumble, fidgeting with your bracelet.
Only ten minutes later the three of you are at the bar. Dean has taken the liberty of getting you each a shot of whiskey and a beer.
The three of you cheers as you shoot back your drink.
You might be small, but you’re not a light weight.
Dean takes your empty glass and turned to get the bartender’s attention.
“Well that was impressive.” Your head snaps to your left as someone takes the seat next to you.
He has bright blue eyes and blonde hair gelled up in the front. He’s in a suit, like he just came from work, and boy does it fit him nicely.
You look over your shoulder, looking around for another girl.
He’s not, is he talking to me?
“I’m sorry. Me?” You point to yourself with wide eyes.
He laughs, his eyes crinkling and he shakes his head.
“Of course.” He smiles bright, confident.
Holy shit. He’s flirting with you.
“I’m Andrew.” He puts his hand out and you take it.
“Y/N.” You smile, excited that this guy, this good-looking guy, is actually flirting with you.
This wasn’t typical for you.
Before you met the boys, it was always hard for you when you went out to bars with friends. They were constantly getting hit on and having drinks bought for them while you sat on the sidelines, unnoticed.
With the boys, at least you had the excuse to tell yourself no guy would hit on a girl surrounded by two huge men, whether you were dating them or not.
You are about to say you’re all set, that your friend already got you a beer, but how many times does a guy who’s not Dean buy you a drink?
His head cocks to the side as the start of a smirk forms on his face.
He turns away to get your drink, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from grinning like an idiot.
A hand lands on your shoulder, and you spin in your chair to see a pissed looking Dean.
“Is he bothering you?” Dean glares at Andrew, who is still talking to the bartender. His grip on your shoulder is tight, and you can feel his fingers digging into your skin.
You swat his hand away, pushing on his chest to make him leave.
“Go away, Dean.” You hiss under your breath, desperately trying to make him leave before Andrew turned around.
If it was one thing Dean Winchester did well, it was intimidation. And you hadn’t even gotten you’re drink yet.
Dean doesn’t budge though, your hand not even unsettling him one bit.
“Seriously, Dean, beat it."
Dean’s eyes snap to yours and he scans your face, trying to tell if you’re serious or not.
"Really?” He throws his hand over your shoulder. “This guy?” His voice is tight and you don’t miss the the twitch in his jaw.
“Yes, Dean, this guy. No go away.”
“Everything okay?” A cautious voice comes from over your shoulder.
You turn around and face Andrew, giving him a big smile.
“Everything’s fine. Just ignore him.” You hear Dean huff but you don’t bother looking back at him.
Why can’t he just give me this?
Andrew slides you your drink and you thank him.
Three drinks later, Andrew’s hand is on your knee, and you’re leaning into him.
You’ve learned to ignore Dean’s scoffs and his attempt to pull you away from Andrew, and you think at this point he’s given up trying.
You had no idea why Dean was being such a brat about it. He was always flirting with girls and buying them drinks, so why couldn’t a guy do it for you?
You lean closer to Andrew, your eyes travel to his lips, and without a thought, you lick yours.
Andrew’s hand begins to travel up from your knee, landing on your waist as his fingers lightly grab hold on the skin under your dress.
Andrew’s fingers brush your hair behind your ear, and just as your lips are about to touch, a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you back.
“Time to go, Y/N.” Dean’s gruff voice calls from behind you.
Andrew looks over your shoulder, his eyes on fire, and he stands so quick his bar stool falls to the ground.
“What the hell is your problem, asshole?” Andrew yells, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. “You’ve been bothering us all night. She’s fine. Now back the fuck off, dude.”
Dean squares off his shoulders and his fists clench.
“Dean…” Sam calls from behind him, trying to stop his brother from doing what he was about to do.
“My problem is she came with us, and she’s leaving with us.” Dean spits.
Now Andrew rolls his shoulders back and his jaw tightens.
Someone’s about to get hit, it’s just a matter of who will throw the first punch.
“That’s enough!” You shout, standing from your seat.
You turn to Dean, your jaw tight and your eyes prickling with tears.
You’re embarrassed and pissed and can’t understand why Dean can’t let you have this one time.
Finally a guy found you pretty and interesting and really wanted to get to know you, and Dean completely ruined it.
“Fine, we’re leaving, but just because you have now effectively and completely ruined my night. You and Sam go to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Dean’s eyes snap to yours, and you can see them flash with regret, but only for a moment.
“I’m not leaving you in–”
“Now!” You scream at him, your hands shaking in anger.
Sam puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and with a huff, he shakes Sam off and storms out of the door, slamming it after him.
Sam just shoots you an apologetic smile as he follows his brother out.
When the two of them are gone, you turn back to Andrew, who’s eyes are still on the door.
“I’m so sorry about that.” You wring your hands together and look at your feet.
“It’s not your fault.” His body relaxes.
“But uh, maybe I’ll see you again.” You smile up at him, shrugging your shoulders as if it’s nothing.
Andrew’s eyes go to the door for a minute, before they return to you.
“Yeah, maybe.” He smiles, but it’s a pity smile. And right then and there you know you’ll never see him again.
Your shoulders fall and you try to offer him a smile so he doesn’t see your hurt.
You grab your coat and head for the door, not saying another word.
The impala is already running when you get to the parking lot, and you hop in the backseat without a word, keeping your gaze out the window because you don’t even want to look at Dean right now.
The ride back feels like an eternity, and when you’re finally back to the bunker, you slam your door as you get out, storming out of the garage and to your room.
“Y/N!” Dean calls after you. “Y/N wait up!”
You turn on your heel and Dean stops dead in his tracks a few feet away from you.
“What the hell is your problem?” You scream. “Why couldn’t you let me have one night, Dean? Why couldn’t you let me enjoy a guy finally being interested in me and thinking I’m pretty? I never get a chance to feel like that. And you ruined it!” Tears begin to stream down your cheek, but you don’t even care. You want him to see how much he hurt you tonight, how he ruined everything for you.
“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?"
"I’m talking about how no guys ever want to flirt with me, or buy me drinks, or even look my way! How I’m not pretty enough and how I’m too skinny for guys to even want to come and say ‘hi’ to me. And I finally got that! And you had to be a dick and ruin it for me!”
Dean’s eyes dance back and forth, like he’s deciphering your words. His eyes squint and his mouth forms that little “o” he gets when he’s trying to figure out what to say.
“You know what?” You throw your hands up. “Forget it. I’m going to bed.” You lie. You know you won’t be sleeping. You’ll be up, clutching you pillow to you as you try to keep your cries silent.
You turn and continue to your room, done with this conversation.
When you finally reach your room, you slam the door and lean down against it, pulling your knees to your chest and holding yourself tight.
You only get a few tears out when there’s a knock on your door.
You lift your head and roll your eyes.
He doesn’t answer, just knocks again.
You clench your jaw and stand up, grabbing the handle and pulling your door open swiftly.
His eyes fall and his body is hunched as he takes you in.
“You don’t really feel like that, do you?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s not sure if he should be asking or not.
You roll your eyes as your shift your weight.
You go to slam the door in his face, but his hand catches on the wood, stopping you.
“You know that’s not true, right? Any of it.” You scoff and look at the door frame, avoiding his gaze.
“How can you really think guys don’t want anything to do with you?” You don’t respond, just lean against the door, still avoiding looking at Dean. “Y/N, guys can’t keep their eyes off you! Not just a bars, but everywhere we go! It drives me crazy!”
Your eyes snap to his and your jaw drops a bit.
His head drops and he catches the back of his neck, his feet scuffling.
"Look, whether you see it or not, Y/N, you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. I don’t understand how you don’t know it, but you turn heads. Everywhere you go. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have done what I did tonight, but seeing that guy get to do what I’ve always wanted to, it drove me crazy. And that’s no excuse. Because I ruined your night. And I’m really sorry. But don’t think for one minute that you’ll never get another chance like that. A girl like you, you could get anyone you wanted. And next time I won’t interfere with that.” His head drops as he finishes his little speech.
You’re just standing there with your mouth open.
You, you don’t even know what to say.
Never in your life did you think Dean Winchester would find you beautiful.
“Are you….are you serious or is this some sort of joke?”
His eyes snap to yours and his face falls.
“Why would this be a joke?"
You don’t say anything, just duck your head and bite your lips.
"Well, it’s not. I really hope you can see that."
His feet disappear from your view, and you listen as his footsteps disappear down the hallway before quietly shutting your door.
You walk over to the mirror, and look yourself up and down.
You look at your curled hair, and cute dress, and high heels, and you smile.
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