⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀ just thinking about dean winchester and how he’d pull your body closer in bed until he felt myself melting against you. he wants to speak, ask if you are alright after today, if you need a kiss or a hug but the way you just curl against him says it all. today was hell. today was shit and all you wish is to forget about it. and if dean can help with that, then it must be for greatest purpose.
he wraps an arm around your back to pull you even closer; so close that he can feel the heat of your skin from under your clothes. it’s comforting. it’s a reminder that you are here, that you are alive and well. a reminder that he can and will protect you until he can’t no more. he hesitates for a second; you have covered yourself in that thick silence that envelopes the room and he wants to break it. he wants to tell you how much he loves you, how important you are, how little he knows about himself when you are not around. because you are his world.
but he keeps silent, if only for a moment. because when he feels your head nuzzling into his neck and the little whine that leaves your mouth, dean can’t help it anymore. “shhh, it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you. i’ve got you, alright?” he whispers, his hand rubbing your back gently like he’d pet a cat. he longs to make you feel better, to remind you that shitty days exist but they aren’t forever.
“i’ll always be here f’you, you hear me? i’m not leaving, even if i get dragged down to hell, i’ll always find my way back to you.” he says, nuzzling his face into your hair and closing his eyes. it’s a promise he makes you; one he attends to keep forever. because he’ll always be by your side to keep the pretty smile on your face.
dean loves you, and that’s not going to change any time soon.
OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (read here)
WARNINGS: mentions of/implied smut (MDNI). age gap.
NOTES: He is back! My psych final is tomorrow and i am going insane, so this is shorter than usual. You have all been so sweet and supportive, and I just wanted to give you a little something as a thank you while I study. I love you all, thanks for the kind words. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3
˚୨୧⋆｡ After months of resisting you and denying his feelings, he is the sweetest man ever when you two get together. He adores you, and he makes sure to show you. He spoils you rotten, lets you get away with almost anything, and he always needs to have a hand on you.
˚୨୧⋆｡ He is protective!!! Like, very protective. He always keeps an eye on you during hunts, and makes sure to kill any evil motherfucker before they can even think of putting their hands on you. And when you do get hurt, you think it pains him more than it does you. He patches you up with gentle touches he didn’t think his blood-stained hands were capable of. He looks at you with sad, deep eyes as he kisses over the wound, and then he doesn’t even let you get up from bed, even if the injury is as tiny as a paper cut.
˚୨୧⋆｡ After every case, he loves, or more like needs to cradle you against his chest and hold you close. He wraps his huge arms around you and presses you to his side, or on top of him, and he just buries his face on your hair and breathes in. He tells you it is to calm you down after hunts, to make you feel safe. But you think it is more about him. Like he needs to remind himself that you’re okay. That you’re there next to him, and that you’re not going anywhere.
˚୨୧⋆｡ You love to annoy him, it is your favorite hobby. Play with his hair while he and Sam research in the library, brushing it right in front of his eyes while he tries to read. You love to sit in a barstool in the garage while he works on Baby and talk his ear off when he has no way to escape (not that he would). You force him to watch rom-coms and chick-flicks that he pretends to hate, but you catch him smiling to himself a few times. You poke him, and bite him, and jump on him all the time, and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
˚୨୧⋆｡ You have a habit of sinking your teeth into his biceps any chance you get. There are always teeth marks on his flesh that he wears with pride. (There are always hickies on your thighs and collarbones to match, of course.)
˚୨୧⋆｡ He claims not to be the jealous type. “I'm too old for things like that, sweetheart.” But you knew he was. He didn’t mind when people stared at you when you walked into a bar or around a small town, always that his arm was around your shoulders or your hand was on his. He is proud that such a pretty girl chose him. But the moment some frat boy tries to approach you at a bar when you are alone, he feels his blood boil. He watches from far away for a few seconds, trying to keep his cool, but he loses it when the guy decides to brush your hair behind your ear. He quickly walks across the bar until he is right behind you, pulling you against his chest and glaring at the dude over the top of your head. The boy is gone in less than a second.
˚୨୧⋆｡ You try to show your love for him in every way you can. Dean was confident and strong, but it sometimes felt like he doubted your feelings for him, like his brain was trying to convince him that you deserved better and that you would get tired of being with some old guy eventually. So, you shower him in love. You learn how to bake pies just for him, making him a new one every week. You wash his hair in the shower, massaging his scalp to help him relax. You get him naked in bed and go on a journey of kissing every scar you can find. You press your lips over the small ones, run your tongue over the long and raised ones. And of course you make sure to tell him how much you love him. You murmur soft i love you’s against his lips. You remind him every day of how beautiful he is, how good he is. You whisper in his ear about how hot he is, how he makes you lose your mind and how no one could ever compare to him.
˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean liked being rough with you in bed. He loved manhandling you, leaving purple fingertips marks on your hips, pulling your hair. He was careful at first, too scared to hurt you. But you wanted him to, you begged him to make it hurt.
˚୨୧⋆｡ Because you loved it when it hurt a little. When he sank his teeth into the flesh of your thighs, when your knees ended up bruised from kneeling on the floor for too long, when you could still feel him days after. You love the marks that he leaves, a living reminder of his touch on your body. It made you feel complete, it made you feel his.
˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean tried to go slow with you at first, thinking that you might be too inexperienced for everything he wanted to do to you. But he didn’t know that you were just as much or even freakier than him.
˚୨୧⋆｡ Your favorite thing to do was, when Dean and you were alone in the Impala for a long drive, to rest your head in his lap. You lay across the front seat casually, looking up at him with innocent eyes when he sends you a warning look. You start by “accidentally” rubbing your cheek against his crotch, loving the way the scratchy fabric of his jeans felt against your skin. You would tease him until he was hard and his breath was ragged, and then you would take him in your mouth. You order him to keep driving as you suck him off slowly. You drag it out, edge him until he is desperate and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. And when he finally comes, you swallow it all like a good girl, moaning in satisfaction, enjoying the way his cum coats your tongue. It makes him groan every time, nostrils flared with the need to fuck you. Sometimes you keep going, keep suckling on him until he is whining in oversensitivity and has to pull you away by your hair.
˚୨୧⋆｡ In return, Dean gives you pleasure every time he can. He can eat your pussy for hours on end, in the kitchen counter, or the Impala, or in a lonely classroom when you have to infiltrate a school for a case. He will fuck you on his bed, or the floor, or against the wall. He just loves to make his girl feel good, see you shaking with pleasure, begging him to stop and to keep going at the same time. He loves when you tell him that he’s the best you have ever had, and the best you will have. He loves when you scream his name and your thighs close around his head because of the overwhelming sensations. He loves to make you cry with pleasure.
˚୨୧⋆｡ But after, he is the sweetest guy ever. He takes aftercare very seriously, murmuring reassuring words against your skin and softly kissing every bruise and bite mark. He reminds you of how much he loves you, of how much you matter to him.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, baby. You keep me sane.”
“You’re such a good girl, my beautiful princess.”
“I will take care of you forever. Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm here.”
“I love you.”
NOTES: wish me luck on my final! I will be back after I'm finally free.
If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!
None of this should be happening. Dean didn’t even want to stay back. He had originally planned on going to grab everyone dinner, maybe snag a beer, and head back for the night. Simple, right?
But Sam had insisted tonight. He wanted a breath of fresh air, grab dinner for once, yada yada. whatever he said, it didn’t matter anymore.
Oh no, no, no.
Not when his lips were crashed against yours—wet, sloppy, deep, and your hips rolled in-sync with his. He was in fucking heaven.
How he got here? Good question. Too bad he didn’t have the answer.
⋆౨ৎ˚
“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that—ngh—mhm, yeah… shit.”
You couldn’t kiss this man hard enough to shut him up. He was just so vocal.
His fingers dug into your hips as he ground you on him, swallowing every little moan and whine that left your lips. But that didn’t stop his own from slipping through the gaps.
He was feeling good. And he was letting you know.
“I’m—fuck, I’m getting close, sweetheart.” He hissed against your lips, turning his head to dip into your collarbone.
You could barely breathe. He was close? You were about to cum in your pants like a teenager. “Y-yeah, me too…me too..”
The fabric of his jeans rubbed your clit perfectly through your shorts, making your hips twitch. You hadn’t even taken off your shirt yet, and he had you teetering on the edge.
“Need t’hear you.. please.. please, sweetheart. Please. Need t’hear how good ‘m makin’ you feel.”
He rolled his hips deeper up into you, making your eyes roll back and inhaling sharply. “Dean-“
“Mmph.. mhm. Close?”
You could only nod, slamming your lips against his once more. His tongue prodded into your mouth, his body starting to tense.
You tried to keep up with his hands as he guided you, but every rock of your hips had the both of you seeing stars.
“Jus’- just a little more, sweetheart. C’mon- c’mon-“
Just this wouldn’t be enough. You could only hope Sam would take his sweet time.
i like my woman how i like my glasses — sitting on my face
there was just something about that nerdy look on dean.
usually, he strayed away from everything that would give him that label. he was supposed to be that tough, badass guy who drove around in a nice car, listening to loud music and sleeping with chicks left and right.
so when you found out that he actually had a prescription and had to wear glasses, which he despised with every single bone of his body, you weren’t exactly sure what to do.
at first, you wanted to laugh — he tried so hard, yet in the end, there he was, looking like he knew the ‘back to the future’ trilogy by heart (which he did).
but then again, the black rims nicely framed his face and accented his cheekbones, making him look even more serious and handsome. it was enough to make that specific heat pool in your stomach, heat waves crashing in your body with wild abandon.
you were laying in bed, your lips crashing against his in a slow and sensual kiss, his hands greedily roaming your body as you run your fingers in his hair. he moaned into your mouth, grinding his hardened bulge into your already-soaked core. he needed you, and he needed to be inside of you.
but first, he’d focus on his lady and make sure that she was all nice and ready for him. this way, he’d also satisfy his hunger for you that seemed to be eating him from the inside.
dean started kissing his way down your body, his lips moving over your flushed skin with skilled care. your neck was now covered in dark love bites, as well as your collarbones and breasts. your breathing picked up, and your nipples already hardened into stiff peaks as he tauntingly moved his fingers down your stomach, hooking over the waistband of your panties.
and the way he was still wearing his glasses so that he could see his girl in all her glory — it was driving you insane.
the moment he settled between your legs, he grabbed your thighs and, giving them a soft squeeze, threw them over his shoulders. scooting closer, he rubbed your slick folds with his finger, slightly pressing the fabric of your panties between them to soak them further. he observed the wet patch with a smirk, taking a deep breath and a good whiff of your arousal.
he moved his tongue over his bottom lip as he slowly slid your panties down, exposing your pretty pink pussy to the cold air in the room. you shivered slightly, squeezing his head behind your thighs as he got back between them, which made him chuckle softly.
“easy there, baby,” he murmured with that smirk still on his face as he stuffed your panties in the pocket of his jeans — a little souvenir.
he blew some air onto your already sensitive core, making you whine quietly. you were getting desperate, but he was clearly in the mood to tease you a little.
he ran his thumb through your slit, getting between your folds to your clit. he started rubbing it in slow circles, making your body jolt up and arch into his hand. his other fingers were at your entrance, smearing your arousal around. he groaned lowly, his dick throbbing painfully in his pants, precum already staining his boxers. but at this moment, your pleasure was of utmost importance. with a shuddering breath, he pinched your engorged clit, making you whimper oh so sweetly.
“dean, please—” at this point, you weren’t even ashamed of begging. you so desperately craved his touch, and you knew that those words were enough to grant it. he knew that as well and hated how easy it was for you to manipulate him.
“okay, baby. alright. i got you, sweetheart,” he crooned and reached to take off his glasses. however, you immediately stopped him, grabbing his wrist midway. “huh?” he gave you a puzzled look.
“keep them on,” you instructed softly, your voice tainted with desperation.
dean nodded and adjusted them on the bridge of his nose. and finally, finally, he dived into your sweet pussy, making you groan out loud.
he squeezed your thighs painfully tight, pushing them closer so they were caging him in. he dragged his tongue over your slippery slit and stopped at your clit, biting and sucking on the swollen bud as you cried out in pleasure. you pushed your hips, grinding your pussy on his face while he was keeping up the pace of his licks, at the same time trying to keep his glasses on.
he was panting heavily, barely capable of seeing anything as his glasses got all fogged up, your arousal serving as a thick coat on them. dean was devouring you like a man starved, lapping at your needy cunt as if you were his last meal.
the moment he felt your body begin to quiver, your walls fluttering around his tongue, he knew you were close. he sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue and slid his fingers into your tight channel, rubbing the gummy walls with his callousness. the delicious friction was enough to make pornographic-like sounds escape your throat as you were nearing the end.
and finally, feeling that pressure coil tight in your belly, you came. however, your eyes went wide when you realised that you were squirting all over his face. but dean didn’t care, no — instead, he was eagerly lapping up your juices, trying to get everything so that your sweet nectar wouldn’t go to waste.
after he helped you come down from your high, he lifted his drenched face up, his glasses soaked as if he just witnessed a heavy storm.
“delicious. 5 michelin stars worth it, if you ask me,” he said with that stupid grin he had when he was proud of himself. “okay, now my turn,” he added and crawled up your body, crashing his lips on yours in a needy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
summary: you noticed that sam twitches in his sleep
pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader
word count: 974
warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, mentions of nightmares, teasing, one suggestive comment
a/n: wanted to write a little blurb about sam twitching in his sleep because my headcanon is that he does and i saw a video about it on instagram LOL
enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3
𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
You exhaled sharply as your eyes snapped open, breathing slightly heavier than usual as you tried to blink away the images that were burned into the back of your eyes. The room was shrouded in darkness; your eyes could barely make out the dresser that was across the room. Your body was wound up tight before the arm that was wrapped around your waist reminded you where you were, and you sank into their arms.
Sam’s arm tightened around you, his warmth reminding you that you were safe and sound in the shared room with him in the bunker. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.
You didn’t know the details of the nightmare, the images slowly disappearing from your memory as you calmed down. Drowsiness riddled your mind, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter shut, your mind slowly slipping into unconsciousness. But before you could, you felt Sam’s body jerk against yours, his arm flexing against you, making your eyes open again.
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Sammy?” You whispered softly into the near-silent room, save for the low whirring coming from the small vent in the ceiling.
All you got in response was a soft snore that escaped his lips as he continued to sleep. You huffed a small laugh through your nose before shifting closer to him, feeling his chest against your back as you let the comforting embrace of your boyfriend lull you back to sleep.
Your eyes closed and you could feel yourself teeter on the line of consciousness and sleep, but Sam’s body almost violently twitched against you again, making your eyes open again. You let out a low groan before slowly moving further into Sam’s embrace, shoving your face into his chest, wrapping an arm around him, and nuzzling into him, hoping that his body wouldn’t twitch again.
Another soft snore left Sam, and his arm unconsciously wrapped around your waist even tighter, bringing you closer to him. Your legs tangled together, not knowing where he started and where you ended. You finally were able to go back to sleep, letting the familiar scent of Sam flood your senses and sleep.
“You twitch when you sleep.” You told Sam as you stood at the stove cooking lunch for the two of you.
You could see out of the corner of your eye that Sam was whipping his head from cutting the tomatoes on the cutting board to you.
“What?” He asked, confused. You could imagine the crease that probably had formed in the middle of his brow, but your eyes were trained on the chicken that was cooking in the pan in front of you.
You turned off the burner, took the chicken off of the pan, and grabbed another cutting board so you could chop them up for the salad that Sam was prepping for the two of you.
“Sam, you twitch when you sleep.” You repeated, beginning to cut up the freshly cooked chicken.
“No I don’t.”
You chuckled lowly at Sam’s indignant tone. You threw the cut-up chicken in the spare bowl to be tossed into the bigger one that held all of the vegetables with the dressing. You quickly placed the cutting board and knife in the sink before turning to Sam, smiling to yourself when you saw the furrowed brow and pout on his face.
“Trust me you do.” You gave his ass a light slap as you walked past him to grab the dressing from the fridge.
You heard a huff and a mumble come from Sam as he continued to chop up the last few tomatoes and threw them in the bowl. The two of you made the salad in silence before you guys sat at the table and began to eat lunch.
“Do I really twitch when I sleep?” Sam questioned after taking a bite of his salad, breaking the comfortable quiet that had settled between the two of you, save for your forks clinking against the porcelain bowls you were eating out of.
You looked at Sam, who was sitting across from you. You nodded. “Yeah, I never noticed until last night.”
“Last night?”
“Mhm, I woke up last night, and when I tried to go back to sleep you twitched pretty violently against me.” He didn’t do it violently, but you wanted to tease Sam a bit.
Sam scoffed. “I don’t think I twitched against you violently.”
“You sure about that? I mean you weren’t the one who felt it.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
Sam looked at you unamused, making you laugh gently at his expression.
“Okay, maybe it wasn’t violent, but the matter still stands, you twitch when you sleep.” You tell him as you take a bite of your lunch.
Sam shook his head. “Whatever.”
His reaction made you smirk. “ It’s completely normal, I just wanted to tell you that you do since it kept me up last night.”
“You sure it wasn’t the fact that I had fu-”
“No! It was after that.” You cut him off, feeling the heat rise on your cheeks at the almost mention of what the two of you were doing before your nightmare woke you up.
It was Sam’s turn to smirk at your flustered state. “It’s cute when you blush.”
You pretended that your stomach still fluttered at his compliment and rolled your eyes. “Shut up and eat your lunch.”
Sam chuckled, and the two of you ate in relative silence. Once you guys were finished eating, you put away the leftovers and worked together to clean the dishes.
As you were drying your hands, you felt a damp hand on your shoulder before you felt Sam’s lips near your ear.
“If I twitch in my sleep, then I’ll admit I hear your little moans when you’re having a good dream.”
[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]
contents: angst with fluffy moments, no happy ending, established relationship, author has no idea how early 2000s tech works, reader is kind of a bird, alcohol and weed is mentioned, set before the show, shit writing/corny writing, all lowercase, tiny tumblr font, poorly proofread
disclaimers: this is very shittily formatted, plss give me grace
a/n: this was written while listening to in my room & ethel cain, lmao. this is also lowkey vent work for me, since this is me processing my recent-ish breakup. lol. enjoy!
extra a/n: this is technically a very fleshed out blurb for me?? i want to try and expand more on this in the future, i just don’t know how yet 💔
antler wall. bat divider.
w/c: 1.7k
july ninth, 2003
0 NEW MESSAGES
you closed your phone in one hand, groaning. it'd been a week or so since you and dean had broken up, yet you found yourself awaiting his calls for some reason.
maybe it was because you were still friends to some extent, or that he told you there was a very slim chance you could get together again if he ever made it back into virginia.
whatever it was, it was the last thing you were holding onto, like a nun clutching her pearls.
you two hadn't broken up for any real reason, truthfully.
he was hopping towns, you were going three states west for the summer, and then once summer is over, you head to college. it was just a recipe for disaster, so it was probably better to end it when you did.
you were now sitting on the wire bed in your current room, obsessively checking your voicemail like a crazed middle-schooler, as if you somehow missed a message from him.
you fished your laptop out from your suitcase, and tossed it onto your bed gently. you laid on your stomach and logged in, the boot-up time surprisingly quick, given the horrid reception you had.
you scrolled through your myspace page, seeing if there was anything on there that could possibly deter dean from contacting you again. there wasn't, obviously.
you pursed your lips in disappointment, more so at yourself rather than him. however, you couldn't help but wonder if he even cared, since he hadn't contacted you since you broke up.
the memory of him breaking up with you was still fresh, and stung to think about. when he told you he was leaving, he hadn't shed even a tear, he didn't even seem sympathetic.
he made leaving you, your city, and your memories altogether look comically simple. it made you feel as though you were a discarded toy, in an aching, childish, nature.
and all you can think about is; did he really love you if he could just leave that easily?
—
october ninth, 2002
"that'll be nine dollars," she looks up from the register, eyes darting back and forth between you and him. dean digs for a wad of cash in his back pocket and hands it to the woman.
"thank you, have a nice night."
you nod as you grab your items, dean holding the door open for you. you duck under his arm, and waddle to his car, your nature comparable to that of a duckling.
you lean against baby's trunk, handing dean his beer. he twists it open, and takes a quick sip. you two are quiet for a while, the silence occasionally interrupted by dean swallowing his drink.
"i don't really like summer. i prefer the chilly air and the dark skies," you comment as the silence nearly hits the awkward stage.
"how do you not like summer? you get to see hot chicks twenty-four seven, and you're not freezing your balls off every time you go outside." dean furrows his eyebrows, looking over at you.
"well first, i don't love the heat. second, i hate bugs," you pause, thinking about your final reason. "oh, and, i also don't look at women like you do, you gross perv," you tease, poking him in the bicep.
"you sound like my brother," dean rolls his eyes, slamming down the rest of his beer.
"maybe i should've gone for your non-pervert brother then."
—
july tenth, 2003
you walk along the gravel path that lines your grandparents property, trees hanging overhead and brush lacing the edges. the view is beautiful, but it can't distract you from the empty feeling deep in your heart.
you kick small rocks out of your way as you drag your feet along the path, your arms swinging lazily side to side.
walks are supposed to be 'therapeutic', but if anything it was making you feel worse. the silence was making it easier for those painful memories to linger in your conscious, for those degrading thoughts to creep in.
you felt so needy and dumb, craving his attention. you longed for a phone call from him, for a twenty second message left in your voicemail, for any sign he still cared, for any sign he still thought about you in some capacity.
—
january tenth, 2003
you sit next to dean as he rolls up a blunt, waiting for your cue to light it. you sat there patiently with wide eyes, the lighter gripped in your dominant hand.
he pinches it in his pointer and thumb, and holds it out to you. you light the end eagerly, setting the metal lighter down afterwards. he takes a quick drag from it, looking forward at the apartment wall.
you stare at his mouth, his lips pressed around the rolled up paper. he offered the blunt to you, extending his hand towards your mouth.
you thought it over, knowing it was probably an unwise idea. however, you desperately wanted his validation, and smoking would warrant that, right?
you nodded, and he pressed the blunt against your mouth. the smoke crept into your lungs, tickling your throat. you coughed up clouds, your eyes watering in discomfort.
you blink away the tears that brimmed your eyes, some slipping down your cheeks and sticking to them. dean wipes the fallen tears, his warm thumb soothing to your cold cheek.
"maybe weed isn't for you, huh, sweetheart?" he comforts in that playful tone he always uses instead of seriousness, the one he uses when he's actually concerned about something.
you shake your head, face red in embarrassment, making you want to sink into the floor and die. he wasn't laughing at you thankfully, so it wasn't that bad.
—
june thirtieth, 2003
you sat in the passenger seat of baby, the air awkward and thick. he had called you earlier today and asked if you were busy because he 'needed to talk'.
so now you were waiting here awkwardly, your knees tucked together and your hands clasped together as you pursed your lips in anxiety. meanwhile, dean is inside the convenience store, picking up drinks for you guys.
your train of thought was interrupted by him opening the door, and handing you a can of soda. you take it, your fingers brushing his. dean sets his beer bottle in the cupholder, not cracking it open like he usually does.
he's chewing on his bottom lip, which isn't him at all. he only does that when he really needs to say something, or when he's focused.
dean exhales, arm resting on the windowsill. he doesn't even look at you, he just readjusts the rear view mirror anxiously.
he starts up the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot slowly. as you get on the highway, he finally spits out what he's been meaning to say.
"i think we should stop seeing each other for a while, since you're leaving soon, and my dad found a job," dean confesses, looking forward at seemingly nothing. you had a feeling that was what he needed to say, but that didn't make the 'hit by a brick' feeling any better.
"..yeah, that's probably a good idea," you squeak out, nodding your head. you would've expanded on it, but you also didn't really want to burst out crying right here in front of him. not here. not now.
"we can probably get back together if i ever end up in virginia again."
"okay."
the car ride to your house is silent, and it feels like a humiliation ritual for you.
you can feel anger begin to fester inside of you, but it's shadowed by emptiness. he pulls in your driveway finally, looking over at you.
you unbuckle and open the door, swinging your legs out onto the wet pavement. he watches as you go up to the front door, making sure you get inside safely. you slam the door shut, and can see him pulling away through the glass window.
you burst into tears, and your mom comes into the foyer to see what's wrong.
"what's wrong baby?"
"he broke up with me," you wail out, ragdolling onto the floor.
—
july fourteenth, 2003
you chew up the skin on your lip as you decide whether or not to leave dean a message, his name in your phone almost taunting you.
you know he's busy with everything, or he's out drinking, but it wouldn't hurt to leave him a message telling him how you feel, right? or is it too early for that?
it's barely been two weeks since you broke up, but you miss him so bad. you don't want to be needy or annoying to him though, because you'd rather have little interaction than none.
your thumb rubs against the small circular button, the friction making your finger hot and uncomfortable. you groan as you stare at the four letter name, feeling childish at the fact that you couldn't leave him a message.
you decide to grow a pair and click his name, and put your phone up to your ear. the dial tone beeped blankly in your ear, reminding you of how you were acting like a clown for your ex.
"hello?" dean's flat voice filled your ear, which sent your heart dropping to your ass. you swallow whatever's left of your pride, and clear your throat.
"hey," you force out. real smooth.
"..oh, hi, y/n," dean's voice raises an octave as he says your name. you recognize that tone shift, it's something he does when he gets anxious, or he feels as though he's been caught doing something.
"did you need something?" dean asks you, and your stomach turns. he's probably busy, and judging off the background noise, it sounds
"uhh, no sorry," you pause, thinking of an excuse you could use.
"just wanted to check up on you," you add, your tone turning up at the end in faux casualty.
"okay, well uhmm, have a nice night."
"you too."
dean hangs up on you, the line going dead. you defeatedly stand there, slowly shutting your phone and slumping against the wall. you throw itacross the room, and it thuds somewhere to your right.
