Summary: The reader stumbles upon Dean’s biggest secret. Dean’s not happy about it. He thinks...
Author: deanssweetheart23
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester
Word count: 500 (look at me, I can drabble!)
Warnings: Uh, language, I guess. And so much fluff, guys. So much fluff.
Author’s Notes: This is my sumbission for @trexrambling Daring Drabbles. My dear Jess, congratulations on your milestone and thank you so much for letting me participate (see how I was on schedule this time, even I can’t believe it lol.)
Special thank you to my wonderful twin @ravengirl94 for helping me figure out what I wanted to do with this. I wouldn’t have come up with this story if it weren’t for her (shocking, I know).
My prompt for this was the world “befuddled” and has been inserted into the fic.
Enjoy <3
Dean keeps a picture of you in his wallet.
It’s an old photograph, a fading reminder of all those mornings you’d spend at Bobby’s back yard, back when the world wasn’t such a complicated place.
Sunshine sweeps over your face while you’re sitting on the hood of the Impala, mug of coffee in hand, laughing at something Dean’s said. It’s loud and warm, a real laugh that makes your eyes crinkle and shine, and you wonder if you can still laugh like that after everything you’ve been through.
But that’s not the point.
The point is that Dean keeps a picture of you in his wallet, next to the one of his mother.
And that when you told him he’d be going on a date during breakfast that morning, he mumbled a quiet sounds good and didn’t touch the rest of his plate.
And that, just a few minutes ago, when he stopped by your room to look for an old encyclopedia, and saw you in that white sundress, he called you beautiful.
“There’s a picture of me in your wallet.” You state, matter of fact, as you storm into his room.
Dean looks up at you, bug-eyed.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“There’s a picture of me in your wallet. I dropped it and it fell.” You push some hair off your face. “And you called me beautiful. Why would you call me beautiful?”
The tips of his ears turn pink.
“Uh… Because you are?”
A scoff.
Brows furrowed in a scowl.
“That’s not the point. You don’t –you can’t… There’s a picture of me in your wallet.”
“You already said that.” He laughs, amusement coating his features. He folds his arms in front of his broad –shut up, Y/N- chest “Multiple times.”
You squint at him then, head titled to the left.
“Why?”
He smirks.
The bastard actually smirks at how flustered you are.
“You tell me. I’d love to know what you think.”
“That’s not…” you groan and smack his shoulder. “That’s not about me, smartass. I’m not the creep that keeps photographs of friends in-”
You’re cut off by a pair of lips, soft but insistent as they press against yours. It’s all slow and tentative at first, in case you want to pull away, but you don’t, so he just gives and gives and gives until you can’t breathe anymore and he has to grin against you and draw back.
“Does this answer your question?” he gloats, slanted smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I dunno, D.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “You might have to explain that again. I’m,” you nudge your nose against his, “a little slow.”
He chuckles and it’s so rich you can feel it in your bones.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks and everything he’s never said, everything he wants to say and feels, is right there, dancing in the greenness of his eyes.
Warnings: AWP. Angst Without Plot. Also... blood. Like, all the blood that’s supposed to be inside a person. All the blood.
A/N: This is my entry for Jess’ Daring Drabbles Challenge hosted by the amazing @trexrambling. My prompts were... Dean & Blood, no more than 500 words. Boom. Nailed it. Also... I’m sorry.
~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~
My Masterlist
Sam kicked down the cabin door; gun held high, fear obvious upon his face. Your panicked phone call at two a.m. had sent him reeling, and he made the three hour drive to your location in just under two.
“Y/N!” He called for you, unable to see in the darkness that greeting him inside. “Dean!” There was no answer, the cabin was silent but for the sounds of heavy breathing and a choking sob that Sam knew all too well to be yours.
“Y/N!” Sam tried again and took a step forward, his boot sliding on the floor as he stepped in something thick and wet. His eyes began to adjust to the lack of light and he looked down to see a pool of shining crimson at his feet. The blood shimmered in the faint moonlight that crept in from the open door, and Sam’s heart stopped. The flood traveled from the door to the center of the small room, and as Sam followed it, his eyes landed on Dean, laid out on the warped hardwood, his head in your lap, blood pouring from his chest and mouth.
“Sam.” Your voice was but a whimper through your tears. You looked up at him, desperate and trembling.
“Y/N, what happened?” Sam rushed forward, his mind finally snapping into action and bidding his limbs to move. He fell to the floor beside his brother and gawked at the hole in Dean's chest.
“I didn't mean to!”
Dean coughed, choking on his own blood and began to shake in your arms. Sam pushed away your hands to inspect the wound, and you clawed at your cheeks in panic, fingertips leaving red streaks behind.
“What did you do?” Sam yelled as he ripped open Dean’s t-shirt, gasping as a fountain of blood erupted from his lung. “Y/N! What did you do!”
“He came at me…the witch… I didn’t mean to!” There was no time to explain, and no real way to. The case had gone sideways and a hex pitted you and Dean against each other in a battle like none you had ever faced. Through the haze of the spell, Dean became your enemy, and you his. He was stronger and faster, and you had taken your fair share of the beating. But in the end, it was you or him, and the magic-induced cloud in your mind pushed you towards the unthinkable. Dean went down with one clean shot, and the curse was broken.
“Please,” you begged, pulling at Sam’s sleeve. “You have to save him.”
He shook his head, mouth open in silent shock; there was nothing he could do.
Again, Dean coughed. A spray of blood left his lips to coat your hands, and you sank down against him, fitting your head in its familiar place at the crook of his neck.
“I’m so sorry, Dean.”
If he heard, you’d never know. Dean took a final, ragged breath; and with it, he was gone.
A/N: This little fic was written for @trexrambling and her daring drabbles challenge. My character was Jo, and the word selected for me was Regret. This was such a fun way to celebrate Jess' milestone of 1000 followers, and I hope y'all love it.
Word Count: 499 (Because I like to push things to the limit, ha!)
Warnings: Maybe a tad sad, but nothing truly angsty.
“What’s your biggest regret?”
“Him.”
***
“Aw listen to this one, ‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest of these, “it might have been”’,” Jo sighed, leaning against the bar as she scrolled through her phone.
“You are a glutton for punishment, kid. You’re the only person I know who would purposely read depressing crap like that…close to the holidays…while you are alone and working…in a bar,” the older man joked, emphasizing each part of the last sentence with pauses for dramatic effect.
Jo shrugged and looked up with a smile, “Sue me. I think it’s sweet. And I’m not alone—I have you.”
“Yeah you do. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”
“I’m fine. I just keep having this feeling like I’m forgetting something—maybe it’s that weird dream I told you about. Who knows? But don’t worry about me, Charlie, I’m alright.” She winked playfully as she passed him, grabbing two menus as she headed towards the customers that just walked in the door.
“Actually, the name’s Chuck,” he whispered with a smile.
***
The taller of the two guys sat down at a table in the back corner and pulled a laptop out of his bag. The other man stood with his back to Jo, scanning through the songs offered on the bar’s old juke box. He pressed play, and the first notes of REO Speedwagon’s, “Can’t Fight This Feeling”, immediately filled the room.
“Dude, REO again, really?” the long haired one teased.
“Damn, right REO. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart,” the second man and Jo answered simultaneously as she approached their seats.
Both boys’ heads snapped towards her voice—eyes widening in shock, mouths opening and closing, unable to form words.
The short haired one finally took a step in her direction. Something about him and the way he moved was so familiar to her, it took her breath away. When he stopped in front of her, she could see tears in his gorgeous green eyes. And when he reached for her, she didn’t flinch. His smell—his touch—everything about him—felt like home. He pulled her against his chest, locking his strong arms around her shoulders.
“Jo,” he breathed finally, his deep voice a mixture of love and sadness and total disbelief.
“I feel like I’m going to regret asking this, but do I know you?” she asked pulling back slightly.
“You used to.”
“Were we–?” she asked suggestively, motioning between them.
“No.”
Jo’s eyes searched his green ones, trying to figure out why her life suddenly felt whole again.
Him. That had been her answer when God, or Charlie or Chuck or whatever his name was, had asked. Him. And suddenly everything came flooding back.
“Dean.” Relief and pure joy danced across his features as Jo pulled his face towards hers and kissed him exactly how she’d always wanted to before whispering against his lips, “Let’s change that this time around. Life’s too short to wake up with regrets.”
Character: Dean Winchester
Word Count: 264
Warnings: Angst, I suppose?
A/N: I wrote this for my beautiful @trexrambling‘s Daring Drabble challenge for hitting 1K!! I’m so proud of you, and you deserve every one of those followers, my gorgeous little waterbear! My prompt was, as you can probably tell, searching. Although not technically beta’d (all those mistakes and such are mine), @pinknerdpanda did read it and said the following: “ Oh my. My feels.” I was listening to Louden Swain’s “She Waits” while I wrote it, so Rob Benedict heavily influenced this one.
As always, tags are below. Let me know if you want to be included!
Ever since Dean had left, he had been searching. If you were to ask him for what, the answer would vary: a home, love, closure. But they all related to a single thing. Her.
He had told her to have faith, promised her he’d come home. He had given her his word, knowing full well that his path would walk him away from her.
He’d left that night, like a bird he’d flown away, drifting on the cold air and leaving behind an empty house and walls that were barely hanging on.
His assumption was that when he left that she was saved. It’s not fair, not to him, and especially not to her, but John had always told him that fairness was overrated, anyway.
She’s left message after message, she can’t believe what is true and she can’t make sense of what they’re saying. She waits for him, because man, Dean had given her his word.
And Dean continues to search. He searches for the words to say, anything other than the ones he truly wants to scream which is to hold on wait, just wait and we’ll both be saved.
He looks at her number as it lights up his phone screen and says the things she wants to hear, but she can’t hear anything he’s saying, can’t see anyone but him.
His chest feels like an empty house, where the floors lay naked and the walls are barely hanging on, and yet he carries on, hoping that his path will walk him her way again.
A/N: This was a great idea and I hope I did it justice. Also, I know nothing about medical situations I just do what I want. All errors are my own, gifs/photos found through google, and as always thank you so much for reading!
Summary: After a brutal run-in with a vampire nest John remains vigilant at his girlfriend’s bedside just hoping she wakes up.
Masterlist
He sits elbows on the edge of the bed, hands steepled under his chin, and in need of a shave. Well, by this point he needs a shower. If she was awake she’d be furious with him for letting himself go, but she’s not and he doesn’t know if she ever will be again. The tubes running from her body to machines are nauseating and he just wants her to wake up.
“Dad,” Dean’s voice makes him jerk his head up to attention. His eldest stands holding a tray of coffees and his duffle bag, “I talked the nurses into letting you use their shower room. Come on.”
“I can’t just leave her Dean. What if she wakes up? I don’t want her to be alone,” John reaches out taking her hand into his.
“Dad, when she wakes up,” Dean begins stepping into the room. “When she wakes up she’s going to need you and she doesn’t need to see you like this. Please let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll stay right here with her.”
“Dean, I can’t lose her. I can’t lose another woman I,” but John can’t finish and Dean understands. Dean knows his father probably better than anyone. He can see the pain in his face and the worry in his eyes. But Dean wasn’t lying to his father Y/N’s strong and despite whatever those vampires did to her she’s going to wake up.
“Dad, please go take a shower,” Dean shoves him the duffle bag and with one last squeeze of her hand, John listens to his son. Dean pats his father’s back before taking his father’s seat next to her.
The shower does make him feel slightly better and he even manages to trim his beard a bit. He puts on the flannel shirt she bought for him and heads back to the room. His breath catches as Dean is pacing in the hallway. He rushes to the door but Dean bars him from going in. It doesn’t stop him from seeing the doctor’s surrounding the bed and the shrill sounds of the machinery. John is a wreck as they continue working on her before they slowly file out of the room. The nurses and doctors exit with her doctor stopping with a smile.
“Your friend’s awake, Mr. Winchester. She’s asking for you,” the doctor smiles and John doesn’t wait a moment before bursting through the door.
John’s not a crier but today is different she smiles up at him with that smile he looks forward to every morning, “You look worried baby.” She pulls back the sheet patting the mattress and John crawls in letting her snuggle against him.
“Don’t you scare me like that again,” John orders and she nods kissing his lips and John finally feels like he can breathe again.
