seen from Argentina
seen from Türkiye
seen from India
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seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Philippines
seen from Pakistan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
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seen from South Africa
Hold On - Chapter One — The Diner Girl
Pairings: Beau Arlen x Reader
Series Summary: When darkness closes in, hope can be found in the most unexpected places — if they’re brave enough to hold on.
Chapter Summary: Beau Arlen’s life is falling apart, but every morning at the diner brings a quiet spark of hope — in the form of a waitress who just might be the reason he keeps coming back.
Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!
The mornings always came too early now.
Beau Arlen sat in his truck, engine idling outside the diner, fingers tight around the steering wheel. The old leather creaked under his grip, but he didn’t loosen it. Couldn’t. If he let go, he might just fall apart.
The divorce papers sat crumpled on the passenger seat beside him, like some ugly reminder he couldn't shake. Not that he needed the reminder — Sharon made sure he remembered every damn day. The texts, the voicemails, the sudden "accidental" run-ins at the grocery store...
It wasn’t just the ending of the marriage. It was her. How she twisted every good memory into something ugly. How she blamed him for things he didn’t even know he'd done. How she made him feel small.
Tired, Beau shoved the truck door open and stepped out into the sharp morning air. The diner’s neon sign buzzed weakly against the gray dawn, the "Open" flickering in and out like it wasn’t sure it meant it.
Beau wasn’t sure of much these days either.
He pushed inside. The place was nearly empty — just a couple regulars hunched over coffee cups — and the smell of bacon grease and cheap coffee wrapped around him like an old blanket.
That’s when he saw her.
You.
You were wiping down the counter, humming softly under your breath. Nothing fancy — just a simple tune — but it caught him off guard. It was the first pleasant sound he'd heard in days. Maybe weeks.
You looked up when the door chimed, offering a smile. A real one. Not forced, not polite — just… warm.
"Morning, Sheriff," you called, grabbing a menu without being asked.
"Morning," Beau grunted back, sliding onto a stool at the counter.
He didn’t need a menu. Hell, he didn’t even need to order anymore — he was here so often, you already knew what he liked. Black coffee, two eggs over easy, hashbrowns extra crispy. The essentials of a man barely holding himself together.
You poured his coffee, setting it in front of him with a gentle clink. "Rough morning?" you asked, voice low and kind.
Beau stared into his cup for a beat too long. He could lie. Say he was fine. Tell you what he told everyone else.
But for some reason, the words stuck.
"Somethin’ like that," he muttered.
You didn’t push. You just nodded and went to ring up another customer, giving him space without leaving him alone. It was... a rare kind of kindness.
One he hadn’t realized he was starving for.
Over the next few weeks, the diner became less about the coffee and more about you.
The way you'd lean over the counter when he told you dumb stories from patrol. The way you’d laugh — not that fake, high-pitched giggle he heard too much of, but a real laugh that crinkled the corners of your eyes. The way you’d listen — really listen — when he grumbled about Sharon and the divorce and how everything he touched seemed to turn sour.
Some mornings, you’d scribble little jokes on his napkin. Other mornings, you’d just refill his coffee before he even realized he needed it.
And little by little, Beau started wanting to get up in the morning again.
It wasn’t love. But it was hope.
And hope, after months of choking on bitterness, felt damn near holy.
Sometimes, when you weren’t looking, Beau would catch himself smiling into his coffee cup.
And sometimes, when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d watch him with this soft, secret look he didn’t know how to name.
He didn’t think about the way his heart picked up when you laughed. He didn’t think about the sudden ache in his chest when your shift ended and you waved goodbye.
He couldn’t afford to think about it.
But he thought about you anyway.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon!
Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕
TEMPTED
Character/Fandom: Austin Butler (Vampire!Austin)
Requested: nope
Prompt: He's horrifying, terrifying, evil. A blood-sucking monster. But a monster who happens to be extremely alluring and drop-dead gorgeous. A monster whose very existence has TEMPTED you into doing the unthinkable.
TW: Blood, mentions of death
Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 6787
A/N: Someone tell me why the FUCK this man in the middle pic looks EXACTLY like Austin???? It's not him - idk who it is I found it on Pinterest - but I'm kinda !!!!
Part one of the Supernatural Series. See all three parts by checking out my #SupernaturalSeries tag.
🦋 mila
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
You lift your neck up as you observe your face in the mirror. Without even looking, your fingers reach down and latch onto the diamond necklace that was gifted to you. You raise it onto your neck and hold it up to the skin, imagining what it will look like when it’s fastened securely around your throat. The choker is intricately designed and expertly engineered with a beautiful deep red ruby set in the center of two silver bat wings.
You jump in your seat as you hear scratching by your window. You rush over to it, unfastening the curtains and pulling them apart. You yelp in shock as a little black object floats around in circles, bouncing against the window pane. Releasing a relieved breath, you unlatch the lock and open the window. It's a bat with something rather large in its mouth. It drops the object onto the window sill before taking off into the orange autumn sky. You chuckle and reach down to pick up the letter and package that the bat delivered. You bite your lip in excitement as you immediately recognize the elegant black cursive script on the envelope.
My Life, it reads.
You relatch the window and flop on your bed to open and read the letter. The familiar deep red seal closes the back with the symbol of a wilted rose. His family stamp After ripping the envelope open and pulling out a piece of parchment, your eyes read down the page.
My dearest Y/N,
I require your presence this evening at the mansion. I expect you to arrive promptly around nine in the evening, dressed in the garment which I have enclosed in this package. You know how I like your makeup and hair.
And lest you forget the jewels I gifted you last week. They should match wonderfully with the dress I have procured for our rendezvous this evening.
You know where I am. As always, I shall be awaiting your arrival and shall not breathe easily until we are together again.
Your love in eternity,
Aus x
You giggle to yourself at the contents of the letter. Austin has no issue speaking like someone who lives in the twenty-first century, but he likes to pretend that he’s still stuck in the 1800s whenever he writes you letters. You carefully refold the letter and then place it back into the envelope to save it along with all the others you’d received.
Taking the soft package, you untie the red ribbon and use the strings to open the leather pouch. You pull out a long burgundy velvet dress and fluff it up so that you can take a look at it. You hold it in front of yourself by the floor-length mirror and smile as you slide your fingers along the soft fabric.
Glancing behind you at the clock, you see that it’s already approaching seven o’clock, which means you have less than two hours to get ready and drive over to the mansion if you’re going to arrive on time. You immediately start getting ready, preparing your makeup and hair the way you know he likes it: a bold red lip and your hair off your neck and shoulders. You accessorize using the diamond necklace, a few matching bracelets, and a pair of delicate diamond earrings - all items which Austin had gifted you over the years you’ve had this little arrangement.
You pull the dress on as carefully as possible and smile to yourself as you evaluate your figure in the mirror. As usual, the dress is absolutely beautiful. It hugs your frame in all the right places and the color looks magnificent with your skin tone. It shimmers in the light when you move and it has a classy leg slit that makes you look tall and lean. Just as you pin your hair into place, your phone rings from its place beside the bed. Rushing over, you see your best friend’s name on the caller ID and answer.
“Hey what’s up?”
“Hi, I was just calling to see if you wanted to do something tonight?” they say.
“Oh, I’d love to but I’m sorry I can’t. I’m actually on my way out to see Austin tonight,” you respond as you carefully and expertly position pins to secure your hairstyle.
“Again? Didn’t you just see him last week?”
“Well, yeah, but I’m going again tonight.”
“I still don’t fully understand what your relationship is with this man. Isn’t he basically just your sugar daddy?”
You pause and heave a sigh. It’s actually quite difficult to explain your relationship with Austin. You can’t tell anyone the truth, anyway, because it would put him at risk. If they believed you, that is. Most people would probably just judge you for lying and making up some ridiculous story to cover for the fact that you basically have a sugar daddy.
Austin is…a being that many people don’t believe exists. And if they did believe in his existence, they would be terrified and utterly frightened of him. He would probably be killed on the spot if they could really see him. Even though Twilight revolutionized vampire appreciation, they're still considered to be fantastical beings by most sane people.
“Not…exactly. I just go over every couple of weeks to keep him company. He cooks dinner and we just talk or watch movies and stuff. He doesn’t get out much so it’s all just to keep him connected to the world.”
“It literally sounds like you’re visiting a nursing home, Y/N. But let’s not forget about the part where he literally pays you with jewelry every single day for having sex with him.”
“Excuse me, we have never had sex, actually! And it is not every day! He sends me something one time a week and he isn’t paying me. He’s just very rich and has no use for the money, so I think it makes him feel good to send me things. He’s just showing his gratitude. I think it really means a lot to him that I take the time to visit him.”
“Is this man married? Why doesn’t he leave the house? How old even is he?”
You bite your lip to keep from laughing at your friend’s questions. How old is he…what a loaded question that you couldn't even answer seriously if you wanted to.
“He’s old enough to be more mature than any man either of us has ever dated. No, of course, he’s not married. And he doesn’t leave the house because he…can’t really go out. He has a…condition that prevents him from going outside.”
“Mhm,” they sound unconvinced and sigh before continuing. “Okay, well, whatever. It’s not my life. But just let me know when you’re back for the night, okay? I hate the thought of you hanging out at that creepy ass mansion up on the hill with a mysterious agoraphobic sugar daddy who pays you in the ugliest jewelry I’ve ever seen.”
“It is not ugly! I like it!”
“Okay sorry, sorry! Seriously, though, let me know when you get there safely and when you get home.”
“I’ll do my best. But you have nothing to worry about. We trust each other and I know he’s a good man. Thanks for checking on me and we can meet up tomorrow. Margaritas?”
Your friend laughs on the other line.
“Sounds like a plan. Okay, I gotta go cause Jasper’s throwing a fit,” she says, referring to her newborn baby. “But I’ll text you about tomorrow. Love ya!”
“Love you,” you repeat before hanging up.
You stick one last pin into your hair and double-check your appearance. You smile. Wearing the things Austin sends you always makes you feel absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking. You aren’t totally sure why, but you always feel your sexiest when you’re wearing something you know he likes.
You would never tell any of your friends but over the last four years, you’ve fallen terribly in love with Austin. Not that it would ever work considering…but still, you can’t stop the emotions from pumping through your heart every time you lay eyes on him. With a deep breath, you shrug on your coat and grab your keys, slamming the door to your apartment behind you. Now that the sun has set, the air is chilly as it blows through the deep blue night. You climb into your car and flip the lights on, preparing for the long drive that you’ve memorized.
It’s not a particularly pleasant drive as it requires you to go up and down dark hills and around tight turns and dangerous bends without any railings or road precautions. Not to mention that you have to use your high beams virtually the entire time since there’s almost no light to be seen the entire way. Perhaps the most annoying and scary portion of the drive involves a veer off into the pitch-black woods and up a path that is existent only to the people who already know it's there. Thanks to Austin on that one.
Fortunately, you don’t run into any issues this time and the sky remains mostly clear for your journey. As usual, you don’t pass a single other car on the haunting road up to the ancient mansion. It’s not surprising considering the fact that nothing lies at the end of the road other than the mansion itself. But you still breathe a sigh of relief as you pull up the long cobblestone drive toward the makeshift garage in the back. You park and flip down the mirror to check your makeup once again.
Satisfied with your appearance, you text your friend to let them know you made it safely and then step out to make your way up to the front door. You pry the vase on the front porch up and grab the heavy metal skeleton key from underneath it. Before opening the door, you pause to admire the stained glass roses which are fashioned on the door. Although the entire mansion is beautiful, these stained glass windows are your personal favorite. You’ve never seen anything like them anywhere else in the world. You insert the key and turn it without issue, the grating of metal against metal signaling that the key is working. You push the door open and replace the key before shutting it quietly.
“Austin! I’m here,” you shout and listen back as the echo surrounds you.
As normal, you admire the mansion’s entryway while you wait for Austin. You know more about the house than anyone other than Austin. That was the main topic of conversation the very first time you met him here at the house. He’d told you about it's history.
“Le Manoir D'argent. The Silver Mansion, as it was called, was constructed in 1845 for a young duke and his wife. They had moved to America for better work opportunities. Tragically, she was murdered in the house when thieves broke in to steal some of the couple’s famous artwork. After she died, the duke returned to France, and the mansion was sold to a local banker and passed down from there. It fell into my uncle’s hands and I inherited it from him.”
The large entryway has a winding staircase with a balcony that overlooks the space and disappears into two hallways upstairs. On either side of the ground floor, there are two hallways that lead to different sections of the house. The floor is made of gorgeous Italian marble, creating a black and white checkerboard print. The walls throughout the house are covered in deep red, green, and blue wallpaper with mahogany wooden boarding lining the bottoms and tops. With its vaulted ceilings, the entryway itself feels three times as large as it actually is. Although the lighting is dim in most areas, the mansion doesn’t feel haunted or eerie at all. Actually, it feels rather cozy and warm. Austin keeps it exceptionally clean.
Your favorite detail in this room is the large portrait of the mansion’s master which hangs right beside the door. You step toward it and smile as you admire it. It’s done in the style of a renaissance portrait, with Austin wearing a fashionable black tuxedo and a red shirt underneath. Your eyes always gravitate toward his in the painting, glinting golden underneath his blonde, sandy curled locks. As you take a step closer, you tilt your head and notice something you’ve never seen before. In the painting, he’s holding a necklace or a pocketwatch…something silver in his hands. You are about to examine it further but Austin’s voice interrupts you.
“Y/N! It’s so good to see you,” he says excitedly.
You turn and smile happily at him as he approaches you and takes your hands in his. His fingers are always deathly cold but it doesn’t bother you one bit. He’s dressed very handsomely and your eyes immediately drop down to the skin on his chest that’s peeking through his partially-unbuttoned dress shirt. It’s blue, your favorite color on him, and pairs well with the black dress pants he's wearing. The sleeves to the top are already rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms.
He pulls you toward him, winding his arms around your body and pulling you against him. You rest your arms on his back and inhale his scent. Despite having been dead for almost two hundred years, he doesn’t smell it. Instead, he smells of musk and something warm and sweet like vanilla or cinnamon. It’s intoxicating and you find your eyelashes fluttering closed.
“I’ve missed you,” you whisper against the skin of his cheek and you can feel him release a content sigh. He releases you and holds you at arm's length so he can get a good look at you.
“Gorgeous, as always. How do you like the dress, darling?” he asks, offering you his elbow. You take it with a smile and allow him to lead you into the dining room.
“It’s absolutely beautiful, Austin. Thank you so much for gifting it to me. You know that you don’t have to send something every time we spend time together, right? Just being with you is gift enough for me.”
He leads you to your usual chair and pulls it out for you. As gentlemanly as always. You slide into the seat as gracefully as you can while he responds.
“It’s of no consequence to me,” he waves his hand dismissively. “You know that I have centuries of savings stored up, waiting to be spent on something. Why not spend it on you, the person who makes me happiest on this earth?”
He takes his seat at the head of the table, just to your right. You shrug and nod, not having any reason to argue with that. The plate that sits in front of you is steaming. You lift the silver lid and take a deep sniff. A smile spreads across your face.
“Oh, Austin, my favorite. It smells delicious,” you say and grab onto your utensil.
You’re actually quite hungry and the food smells so, so good. You spoon some into your mouth and close your eyes in pleasure at the wonderful familiar taste. Despite not eating very much human food, Austin is a wonderful cook and always has his kitchen stocked with your favorite snacks for when you visit.
“It’s wonderful,” you assure him and he smiles warmly, relaxing in his chair.
He brings his hand up to his lips, running a finger over his bottom lip as he watches you eat. Your eyes drop momentarily down to his place to see nothing there, as usual. The first time you’d visited, he’d eaten the same meal as you but each time after he’d refrained. He explained that vampires are capable of eating human food, it just doesn’t agree with their digestive system or do much anything to keep them healthy and alive.
Blood, of course, is the main staple of their diet and, as most people know nowadays, vampires prefer human blood over any other kind of blood. Although Austin sustains himself on animal blood, every vampire must drink human blood every so often to remain alive. Austin generally takes to the streets in small rural towns around the area for a full meal every now and then. He explained that he usually picks criminals or elderly people and does his best to stay away from young and healthy individuals. And he never, ever feeds on children.
The dining room is dimly lit with an exquisitely ornate crystalline chandelier that casts light in rainbow colors across the room. Here in more lighting, you start to notice how drawn and stretched Austin looks. Your eyes travel to his golden blonde hair, pulled back in a fashionable ponytail with a few strands swinging freely to frame his face. They follow down to his sparkling golden eyes, which look a bit greyer than normal, as does his normally pale white skin. He appears ashen, his cheeks caved into his skin more than you remember. But his jaw still cuts dramatically across his face, and his pink lips are as plump and elegant as ever. He’s still as handsome as the day you first met him. You smile as you scoop another spoonful of food into your mouth.
“Austin…in the portrait in the entryway, what are you holding? That little silver necklace? What is it?”
Austin’s eyes flick up to you and he clenches his jaw. You lean back, away from him, suddenly worried that you’ve said something wrong. Your eyes flick down to his fist which is clenched on the tabletop. His eyes follow your gaze and he releases his fingers with a sigh.
“It…belonged to my sister.”
You shake your head and lean back in. This is news to you.
“You had a sister?”
“Yes. Her name was Ashleigh,” he replies, nodding slowly. “She died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What was she like?”
You watch for a moment in silence as his eyes flick back and forth on the black lace tablecloth in front of you. When he lifts his gaze to yours, he looks even more drawn and you can see the emotion clear on his face.
“Have I ever told you how I became a vampire?”
You pause for a moment to think and then shake your head.
“No, actually. I don’t think you have.”
He nods, almost solemnly and then intertwines his fingers on top of the table.
“My sister, Ashleigh, and I grew up in Normandy, on the coast of France. We lived in a wealthy family, although she always had dreams of coming to America. She met a man whom my mother and I did not approve of. But my father, with the final say, blessed their union and they were married. I remember always thinking that he was a very strange man, always pale and never very pleasant. But she loved him with her entire being and her whole heart. Anyway, she moved to America with him and they purchased a house, a mansion. He was a duke, extremely wealthy, and they were doing very well here. I came to visit, in the hopes that I would secure a job in the states. I have told you how magnificent the art collection here was, haven’t I?”
You nod and he continues.
“Do you remember the story of the art thieves that I told you? That they descended upon the house at night and killed the duchess in cold blood?”
“Yes, Duchess Butuiller. What does she have to…oh god”
“Duchess Butuiller, Ashleigh Butuiller, was my sister. I grew up with the name Agustin and only adopted the name Austin in the twentieth century. But those thieves…they weren’t thieves at all. They were hunters of my kind.”
“Was your sister…?”
“No, thank god. She was spared this fate that I wasn't. I was up late, reading in the library when they came into the house. I caught them. I tried to stop them but there were too many. I was stabbed in the chest and I…I have no memory of what passed until I woke up the next day as the creature I am today. The duke was who they were searching for. The bastard allowed my sister to be killed but to save my life, he turned me. Why he saved me I'll never understand. But it was he who turned me into this monster, this bloodsucker.”
A few moments of silence pass before you gather the courage to ask another question.
“Where is the duke now?”
“I have no idea and I’d like to keep it that way. After he explained what he’d done to me, he released the house to my ownership and left. I don’t know where he went or why, but if he were ever to come back here, I would end his life. No matter what it took.”
Silence settles again and you gulp as you reach up to place your hand on top of his. He averts your eyes but you can see the shimmering glint of a tear as he breathes heavily through his emotions.
“Should we move into the living room, now? It’s more comfortable in there," you suggest to ease the tension.
Austin nods and offers a small smile before rising to his feet. You notice him sway for a quick moment but he regains his balance quickly and holds out his hand for you to take. You place your fingers into his and stand. As soon as you take a step toward the living room, Austin wavers, slamming his hand onto the table for support.
“Austin!” you shout, moving to slide your arms underneath him and help support him.
He hisses and shakes his head, heaving a frustrated breath.
“Goddamn it,” he mutters under his breath, releasing your arms from his torso.
He moves to take another step but falters again, reaching for his head. You catch him and slowly but carefully drag him into the next room. You help him onto the loveseat and sit beside him, your fingers resting on top of his hand.
“How long has it been since you’ve…eaten?”
“I’m fine.”
“Austin,” you say disappointed. “How long has it been since you last fed?”
“A few days, maybe. I don’t know, Y/N.”
You sigh and angle your head down to better observe him. He looks awful, thin and blanched, and, most of all, tired.
“Well, you look terrible. You need to eat. Do you have any blood in the fridge?”
“No.”
“What about upstairs somewhere?”
“No.”
“Okay, well maybe I could run down to the pet store and-”
“Stop!” he suddenly shouts, whirling to glare at you.
You clamp your lips together and look at him, shocked into suppression. His angry expression immediately melts and his shoulders round in defeat.
“I’m fine, I already told you. Besides, I don’t need animal blood. I need…” his eyes flick toward you, dragging up and down your frame.
You gulp under his gaze. You and he have engaged in a variety of activities but sex and feedings are two areas you both avoid. Sure, you've allowed him to trail his teeth up and down your skin and even give you a little taste of what it would feel like to be bitten. You’ve even passingly offered for him to feed on you before, but he’s always denied your proposal. Every single time, without fail. He refuses to bring his teeth anywhere near you when he’s hungry for human blood. It's just too dangerous.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, lowering the strap of your dress onto your shoulder and brushing the few strands of hair on your neck out of your way, to expose your skin to him completely.
“Feed on me,” you say as confidently as you can, although your heart is pounding painfully in your chest.
Austin’s head snaps up and he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. He says nothing although his eyes search your figure.
“Feed on me,” you repeat. “You need to eat and I know you can feed without turning me. So…I’m offering.”
Austin’s expression suddenly changes and he laughs. His eyes squeeze shut and he leans back against the loveseat, clutching his stomach.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” you ask, suddenly offended. You can’t place why but the thought of him not wanting your blood makes you angry. “Am I not good enough for you?”
The amusement falls from Austin’s face once again and he stares dryly at you.
“Y/N, we’re not doing this,” he says firmly, his lips pressed into a straight line. You scoff and cross your arms over your chest.
“Austin, stop being so stubborn! You practically passed out on the way in here. You need to eat,” you insist, gesturing toward your shoulder.
“No. Stop it now.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? I’m offering-”
“Y/N, stop!”
“Are you afraid of turning me or-”
“Stop.”
If you weren’t so wrapped up in your anger, you would have noticed the way Austin’s long fingernails begin to dig into the pillow beside him. But you’re so inspired by your anger and frustration and concerned with his health that you continue to insist that he feed on you.
“If you would just trust me, then-”
Your breath catches in your throat as Austin’s fingers wrap harshly around your wrists. Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s slammed you back into the wall of the living room. His hands are holding your wrists hostage against the wall as he towers over you. You wince at the pain of his fingers around your arms. When you stare up into his eyes, your heart begins to beat faster. Your breath grows shaky with fear. His eyes are red. Not a little red, or in the process of changing red. They are red, a deep, sinister color almost as dark as your dress. He stares down at you with his almost black eyes, nostrils flared and fangs bared. You freeze under his touch, tears starting to gather in your eyes.
He’s never acted this way with you. You've never understood how people could think vampires are evil since Austin has never been anything but kind to you. But now, as you stare up into his haunting face, you understand it all. It’s as if the very bones under his skin have shifted to create this horror of a being that bares down on you now. He resembles nothing of his normal self and your heart is racing with terror. For the first time since you met him, you wonder if he’s going to hurt you.
“Is this what you want, Y/N?” he asks. “You want this version of me? The bloodsucking monster? The killer? Is this the man you want to see?”
You shiver under his grasp. He picks up your wrists and slams them against the wall. You wince and shake your head.
“No. I didn’t think so. This is not what you want. Leave now. And don’t ever come back.”
He releases your hands and returns to the couch, gently keeling over onto the cushions. You take a moment to collect yourself, breathing in and out slowly, and consider your options. Your first instinct is to return to him, to comfort him and to find some way to lift his pain. But what are you doing here in the first place? This is all just a reminder of what he’s capable of. That he could kill you at any moment. The fact that he hasn’t hurt you to this point is honestly astounding, even if it’d been by accident.
Resolved to get the hell out of here, you’re about to turn and grab your purse, but a loud burst of thunder strikes, and the old house rumbles. You turn and approach the window, lifting the dark red curtain to peer outside. You can barely see anything with the rain falling in sheaths everywhere you look. It would be extremely dangerous and probably impossible to make it home tonight.
“You can sleep upstairs in the guest room. I’ll fix it up for you,” Austin says.
You turn, about to tell him you’ll just take the couch, but he’s already gone. Damn vampire speed. You fish your phone out from your purse and text your friend quickly.
it’s storming really bad up here and too dangerous to drive home. but i'm safe
You hesitate, looking up from your phone and glancing at the wall against which Austin had harshly pushed you. Shaking your head, you continue typing.
i’m safe with austin. text you in the morning ❤️
With a deep breath, you grab your purse and head upstairs. Each step creaks with your heels and, to be honest, you only realize once you hit the top of the steps that you have no idea where you’re going. You pause and listen for movement. Luckily, you can hear Austin rummaging about in a room and you follow the noise. You knock on the doorframe and step into the room. At one point, it had clearly been a woman's room based on the decoration; it probably belonged to Austin's sister long ago. Austin is bent over the bed, smoothing out a blanket.
"Hi," you say quietly and Austin just nods.
"The bathroom is right there. The sheets and towels are brand new and clean. I'm just next door if you need anything."
You nod. A few moments of awkward silence pass until Austin clears his throat and starts toward the door. You move out of the way, passing him as you step further into the room. After you lay your purse down on the bed, you turn.
"Austin, can you, uh…unzip me, please?” you ask sheepishly, your shoulders turning in on yourself.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Austin approaches you. Your back unintentionally arches when his freezing fingers brush against your skin. You gasp and close your eyes. As his fingertips dance across the zipper, one of the straps slips from your shoulder. You glance over at it, suddenly terrified when Austin stops unzipping the dress. You both wait in silence. You can feel his eyes trained on your shoulder and, with how fast your heart is thudding against your chest, you’re sure he can sense the veins in your neck as they pulse rhythmically.
You just barely turn your head to look over your shoulder at Austin. He’s staring down at you, his eyes red again, but a brighter, less threatening red this time. His lips are parted and his chest is heaving. Your eyes slip down to his lips and the next thing you know, he’s leaning toward you, his hot breath tickling your face. Your eyes flutter closed as you wait for the feeling of his lips on yours.
“Fuck!”
You fall forward onto the bed and quickly glance over your shoulder to see Austin gripping the door frame. His long nails are tearing parts of the white wooden trim away from the wall. You turn around, holding the top of your dress securely onto your chest as you stare at him.
“Why are you doing this to me, Y/N? Why? I can’t fucking control it around you. I can’t see you anymore. You can never come back after tonight. Do you understand?”
You shake your head, the frustration coming back.
“No, I don’t fucking understand. You’re the one who sends me these dresses, these jewels, all this shit. It’s not my fault you can’t control yourself, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t care? That I don’t want you to control yourself? That I’m offering for you to feed not because I’m turned on by the thought of it but because I love you and I don’t want you to fucking die?”
It all comes spilling out before you can stop it. But once it's out there, you don't know what to do other than own up to it. You clamp your mouth shut and fall down on the bed, dropping your head and closing your eyes as a few rogue tears slip out. Suddenly, you feel Austin's fingers underneath your chin. He lifts your face up to his. His hands slide onto your cheeks and he leans his forehead against you.
"Don't love me," he whispers. "You shouldn't love me. I'm a freak, a monster. I'm disgusting and hideous in every way. I survive on the death of others and I enjoy it. Look at me, Y/N, I'm not worthy of you. Look at these nails. They're like animal claws and they're dangerous. The thought of them ripping or tearing your beautiful skin...I hate myself for even being capable of it."
"Austin, Austin, Austin," you whisper, placing your hands on his face. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, an expression of pain crossing his face. "I trust you with my whole heart. You could never hurt me, I know it. You're not a monster. You didn't choose this life; someone else chose it for you and you're living it the most honorable way you can. That's why I love you, with all of my being. That's why I want you to feed on me, because I can't lose you, Austin. I just can't."
"What if I can't stop myself?"
You drop your hand onto his chest and tap his heart.
"If you truly love me, you will."
With that, you lean your head to the side, brushing your hair away and closing your eyes to prepare for him. His cold fingers tickle your skin as they touch your shoulder. His hand drops down to your arm and he grasps your bicep, pulling your body closer to his. He does it slowly so that you have time to place your hands on his thighs and support yourself.
Your heart is pounding in your chest with the anticipation of feeling his teeth sink into your skin. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and you can feel Austin’s breath on your shoulder. His soft lips press onto the skin. You smile to yourself as his lips drag up your body, rhythmically pressing chaste kisses up your throat and onto your face. Your lips pop open as his mouth slips onto yours. He kisses you hungrily. His lips smooth as they move between yours.
You grip his thighs, a feeling of sudden desperation growing in your heart and in your gut. You lean further into his kiss, moaning quietly against his lips. His hand circles around to your back and he gently drags his long fingernails up your spine. They just barely tickle the skin and your back arches in response. You gasp into his lips as goosebumps rise on your arms.
He pulls away from you but you jerk forward into the space between you, desiring his lips more than you’ve ever wanted something in your life before.
“You like that, don’t you love?” he whispers.
You bite your lip and hum in agreement. He smirks and then presses his lips against yours again, one of his hands grasping onto your head to hold you against him. You smile into the kiss and arch your back as his fingernails dig into the skin. The sharp tips ache but only for a moment before he pulls his hand away from you and clutches onto your jawbone.
He stares down at you and your breath catches in your throat. You resist the urge to moan into the air between you and clutch harder onto his thighs instead. He tilts your head to the side and runs a fingernail down your throat. Your eyes flutter closed and you wait for him.
He presses a wet kiss to your neck. You gasp as the tips of his fangs scratch against your skin. And then they sink in. You immediately sway back with the force, moaning loudly at the mixture of pleasure and pain. You pant as the area on your neck grows warm and starts to ache. You can feel his teeth moving around in your skin, and, like massaging a tender muscle, you feel the satisfying sensation of relief. You moan again as you feel your head starting to ache. Your vision is beginning to blacken when Austin pulls away. You gasp, your eyes flying open.
Your head is still tilted back as you stare down at him. His eyes are deep, dark red like the burgundy color of your dress. In the dim lighting, they almost look black. Your blood drips down the corner of his mouth in a long dark line and is smudged red along his lips. His tongue darts out and swipes around his mouth to gather the extra blood before he circles it around his fangs to clean them. You sigh deeply and gulp.
“Why did you stop?” you ask.
“Your heartbeat, love. I can hear it pulsing in your chest,” he responds, his icy fingers pressing against the warm skin on your chest. "It was too much."
“Maybe I just liked it,” you say, your eyes dropping down to his lips.
He smirks, his hands falling to your hips and yanking you onto his lap. You straddle him and slide your hands onto his shoulders, one of them tangling into his long blonde hair. You lean in for a desperately needed kiss but he restrains you and wiggles his fingers. You watch as he takes his long sharp nails to the front of your dress. He gazes lustily into your eyes as he drags his fingernail down the fabric. It begins to rip and you press against his chest.
“Austin, stop, this is brand new!” you say. He smirks and leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.
“I’ll buy you another,” he mutters against you.
And with that, his fingernail rips easily and hastily through the entire front of your dress. It falls gracefully from your chest, revealing your bare skin to him. His eyes trail down your figure and he heaves a deep breath. You giggle happily and lean forward, about to press your lips onto his but he stops you with a gentle hand to your heart. He curls his finger and trails it up toward your cheek and onto your cheekbone. He smiles sadly and shakes his head.
“I don’t want to fuck you tonight,” he says. “I just want to hold you.”
You smile and press a gentle kiss on his forehead. You nod and he helps you down. After stepping away to allow Austin to get up, you slide the rest of the dress off, along with your shoes. By the time you turn back around, Austin has returned with a pair of silk pajamas.
“I was saving this for another time but you pretty obviously need it now,” Austin says with a chuckle. You share the expression and then shrug the pajamas over your head.
You climb into bed as Austin turns the lights off and slides in behind you. He wraps his strong arms around you and holds you close. You nestle back into him. Although he’s frigid, he feels good against your hot skin. The rain is falling hard, pattering against the window as soft rumbles of thunder sound in the distance.
“Can I show you something?” he asks.
You shift in his arms to see his face and nod excitedly.
“Of course.”
He reaches underneath his shirt and pulls out a silver necklace. Somehow you’ve never noticed it before. He stretches it out to show it to you. The moonlight that shines through the window allows you to get a good look at it. It’s a small oval-shaped silver charm with the family’s rose crest engraved in the metal.
“This is what you saw in the portrait.”
“Ashleigh’s necklace?” you ask and he nods.
“The very same. When she owned it, it contained a picture of the duke, her beloved. But when the duke gave it to me, I didn’t know what to do with it. It remained empty for a long, long time. But now,” he carefully clicks it open and tilts it to show you. You giggle contently. “It contains a picture of my beloved.”
You reach toward the necklace and swipe a thumb over your face nestled in the little silver oval. When you glance over at him, he’s already staring at you with a handsome smile. You reach up to cup his face and he leans into your touch. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and you nestle into his chest before mumbling goodnight.
“Sleep well, my heart.”
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90 Days of Autumn (Part 12)
Title: Christmas
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 5,175
Warnings: A couple swear words, but all fluff
Prompt: Sam and Y/N spend their first Christmas together, complete with silly pajamas, many of presents, and special confessions.
Master List
A/N: Well, this was supposed to come out on Christmas, but I failed. I’m just getting back into writing after my mini break, so forgive me for how long this is. And you’re welcome for all the fluff that’s come from this.
You woke up with Sam by your side. Per his request, and to your excitement, you spent the night. He was still sleeping when you woke up, which surprised you because you were the one who rolled in late.
You had all morning to spend with Sam and after you were heading to your dad's house for dinner and presents with your family. You and Sam had skipped the whole “let's not get each other a gift” discussion, knowing you’d break that agreement anyway. You did agree though that nothing could exceed 50 dollars. It gave you a good price range and you knew you could get multiple gifts without going over that amount.
Sam stirred beside you, stretching his arm over your side to hook around your back and pull you closer to him, soaking in the warmth of your body. “Merry Christmas Eve, Y/N,” he whispered sleepily.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Sam,” you replied brushing your nose against his in hopes to wake him up a bit more, but if anything, it only seemed to make him more tired.
You were very close to falling asleep again when Sam broke the silence. “Thank you for staying over. I’m sure by Sunday night we’ll be sick of each other.”
“Never,” you confessed, “I'm very happy to be spending these next two days with you.”
“Mmh. Me too,” he agreed and it wasn't long after that comment that you were drifting off again with Sam following short behind.
Sam had hung his mistletoe in the doorway of his room and he didn’t hesitate to pull you in for a kiss when you finally drug yourselves out of bed at nearly two in the afternoon. You weren't sleeping they entire time, just relaxing with each other and talking, enjoying it being just the two of you for the time being.
Sam made pancakes while you showered and got ready for the day, you ate together at his table, enjoying the calm and quiet of each other's company. When Sam went up to shower, you cleaned the dishes and when he was done, it was just about time to head out for a celebration with your family.
“Auntie Y/N!” You nephew yelled as he sprinted to the door, barreling right into your legs. “Merry Cwismas!”
“Merry Christmas Bryce,” you sang, lifting him onto your hip.
“Sam!” He yelled, noticing the man who had followed you in. “Gracie! Unca Sammy is here with Auntie Y/N!”
Right on cue, the toddler came running to the front door, requesting to be held the second she saw Sam. You were so happy that your family had taken well to Sam, and not just the little ones.
Your brother was first to step into the living room from his space in the kitchen, greeting you with a hug and one for Sam as well. “Merry Christmas,” he spoke.
“Merry Christmas,” the two of you told him, following him into the kitchen where you were greeted by your dad and Ava.
You set your bag on the table as you took a seat on the chair with Bryce still in your lap. Sam sat beside you and Gracie situated herself on Sam’s lap, making herself comfortable and making you and Sam both chuckle.
“Dada and Grampa are makin’ ham,” Bryce announced, “and botatoes, and salad.” You grinned at the face the four-year-old made when it came to the word salad.
“Sounds delicious.” You smiled down at your nephew, pushing his long locks away from his eyes. “Are you excited for Santa to come tonight?”
“Yes!” He beamed, staring at you with wide eyes. “Gracie and I have been really really good this year, huh mommy?” He turned to his mother then, looking at her with the same big eyes he stared at you with. You knew he got that look from his father, a trait that he taught himself when he was about Bryce’s age.
“Very good,” Ava confirmed, nodding to you.
“Oh good! You know Santa once gave your daddy coal,” you teased.
“Hey, quit tellin’ my kid lies!” Jake warned, waving a spoon in your direction. “It was your Auntie Y/N who got coal, not me.”
Sam gasped and you turned to him and rolled your eyes. “It was Jake-”
“It was not! Dad, who got coal me or Y/N?” The two of you sounded like kids again, arguing over just about everything: who got the last bit of cereal, who got the toy in the Cracker Jack, who's turn it was to do dishes…
“You both did. Santa hung it on Jake’s stocking, but I remember the note saying it was for both of you,” your dad piped in to calm the storm that was your arguing. He was best at that, growing up, Dad’s specialty was making sure you and Jake didn’t kill each other.
Jake scoffed, turning his attention back to salad he was currently working on throwing together. With a bit of a victorious smirk, even though the coal was for both of you, you turned your attention back to your niece and nephew.
“Gracie, are you excited for santa to come?” you heard Sam ask the little girl.
She nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing in excitement. “Awe you esited for Sana ta come?”
“Of course I’m excited for Santa to come!” Sam responded, “You think I’ve been good this year?” he asked Gracie, who nodded again.
“Etsept, you stolded Auntie’s heart. Steawing is mean.”
The whole room erupted into laughter at little Gracie’s comment. A blush rose on your cheeks too, as you were sure she remembered hearing that from her father when you last saw them. At least she knew that stealing was wrong, that was all that really mattered.
Sam cleared his throat, settling the room down before speaking, “this is one case where stealing isn’t bad. If I stole her heart, it means she really likes me. And I really like her. She stole my heart too,” he clarified, making your cheeks darken in color still.
“Oh,” she noted.
Bryce cocked his head in confusion, looking between you and Sam, “Does that mean you traded hearts?”
You laughed, shaking your head. You shot a quick ‘see what you started’ look to your brother before turning to face Bryce. “No sweetie. It’s just a saying for when you really like someone. He didn’t actually take my heart and I didn’t take his.”
There was no more talk about you and Sam’s love life after dinner. The kids had become so distracted with eating that there wasn’t much time for talking, at least, not unless their mouths were full and it was about how excited they were for santa and presents and snow.
Before you even knew it, the sun had gone down and you were settling down in the living room for another family tradition, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas on Christmas Eve. Gracie had conked out just minutes into the short movie, but Bryce held through the entire thing.
“Should we wake Gracie up for presents?” you asked, remembering the bag you had set by the table earlier that held the presents you and Sam would be giving to the kids. Of course, you had included one for Jake and Ava and for your dad too, but most of it was for the kids.
Bryce couldn’t contain his excitement at the mention of presents, quickly hopping off the couch and sprinting to the kitchen to grab your bag. You, Jake and Sam all worked to wake the sleeping toddler, who really was less than excited about being up so late, but when Bryce came back with the presents and you told little Gracie you wanted her to open her gifts, she was more than happy to deal with being woken up.
You watched the two tore into their gifts. If you didn’t know any better you’d say they were more excited to rip the paper off than to actually get the gift. They made a mess, that was one thing you were sure of.
Sam had gotten the two of them books. You told him they loved reading, and he was more than happy to pick up some children’s books for them. Bryce had been really into sports lately, so you got him a plastic t-ball set, which he was ecstatic about. You got Gracie an art set, as she had become obsessed with drawing and painting. You also got each of the kids their own little bag of chocolates, not that they needed it but who could resist christmas candy?
You got your dad a book, one that he’d been talking about for quite some time now. He still gave you the spiel on how you didn’t have to get him anything, but graciously accepted the gift anyway.
Of course, you couldn’t get away without receiving some gifts of your own. You dad had given you some movies you’d been wanting to see, and gave Sam a six pack of his homebrewed beer. He also gave you two some money for a date night, which you knew would be put to good use, as Sam was already planning some winter themed dates.
You decided to head out shortly after, wanting to beat the storm that was supposed to come in that night. After goodbyes were said, you headed out to Sam’s truck, realizing that you hadn’t quite missed the storm. The snow was falling heavily outside, already sticking to the ground.
“At least it’ll be a white Christmas,” you giggled, blowing on your cold hands as you hopped into Sam’s even colder truck.
“That means Mom’s gonna make Dean and me shovel first thing in the morning,” he groaned, though he was just as happy about the snow as you were.
When you got to the Winchester’s house, the lights were still on, and everyone seemed to still be awake. It surprised you at first, realizing that it was nearing ten o’clock, but it was Christmas Eve and you were sure they were waiting up to make sure you and Sam made it there safely.
Sam grabbed your hand, helping you out of his truck as you arrived. The ground was wet and slippery, and you had a death latch on Sam’s arm as you made your way up the tiny hill to the front door.
Sam, with full knowledge that everyone was still awake, walked inside, announcing his and your presence. You found the family in the living room, gathered around the TV and watching was looked to be The Polar Express.
“Just in time,” Mary announced, turning the volume down on the movie that was playing. She crossed the room, pulling her youngest son into a hug first and then giving you one as well. “We’re so happy to have you here for Christmas, Y/N,” she told you, and you could tell that she meant it.
“Can we do the present now?” Dean asked, sounding like a little kid who so desperately wanted to look at his presents.
“Present?” You inquired. Sam had said nothing about presents.
Sam put his hand on your lower back, pushing you further into the main room. “Every year, mom and dad give us a Christmas Eve box. It’s nothing big, just something special for the night before Christmas.”
“Don’t worry,” Mary assured, “there is a box for you too.”
You sat down with Sam in front of the tree, the three of you forming a little half circle. Mary handed you each a box, about the size of a shoebox. Dean and Sam both opened theirs quickly, and from the looks of it, each box was roughly the same, with a few minor differences. In yours were christmas themed pajamas, some cookie mix in a jar, a few packets of hot chocolate, popcorn, and an ornament. “Thank you, Mary,” you grinned, standing up to hug her.
“We have to wear these tonight you know,” Sam chuckled, already pulling his pajamas out of his box.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else!” You laughed.
You headed for the bathroom as Sam and Dean headed for their bedroom’s to change. You couldn’t help but laugh at the pajamas. It was a red onesie, zipping up in the front with a little bear claw on the chest pocket, but the back of it was a button velcro flap on the butt, that read “bear bottom” on it.
You giggled, emerging from the bathroom at the same time Sam and Dean came out of their bedrooms. Dean was in a blue onesie, similar to yours, but his read “tail end” on the back and had a hoofprint on the front. Sam had a moose hoofprint on his front and the back of his read “moose caboose.”
The giggles and chuckles continued all the way down the stairs, mostly at each other, but the good thing was that you could all laugh at yourselves too. Mary and John joined in upon seeing the pajamas they had purchased. Mary even commented saying, “best Christmas present yet,” which had the laughter growing louder.
Once pictures were taken, and everyone had dried their tears from laughter, you all decided to turn in for the night, but not before Mary gave you a rundown of the bedroom rules. “We won’t spy on you and I don’t care if you kiss and cuddle, but there will be absolutely no sex in this house from you two,” she warned, which made you blush because truthfully, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “The door cannot be shut all the way and the nightlight in the hall needs to stay on. If you get cold, there are extra blankets in the hall closet and the bathroom is right beside it. Good?”
“Good,” you nodded, partially intimidated by the rules, but you had no reason to be. The most you have done, or would do with Sam at this point was kissing. You were happy that Mary was letting you two sleep in the same room in the first place.
“Understood. Goodnight, mom.” Sam leaned forward, wrapping his mother into a tight hug. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bright and early, Samuel. The walks are going to be bad.”
“Goodnight, Mary.” You took your turn in hugging her. “And thank you for the pajamas. They’re very comfortable.” You shared a laugh, before she was returning your goodnights and headed down to her own room to sleep.
It took a minute to get comfortable. Sam’s childhood bed was much different than the one at his place, or yours. It was smaller, not as soft and you were surprised it fit the two of you, but soon enough you found yourself wrapped around each other, right in the middle of the bed, with just enough wiggle room on each side - there was more on Sam’s, but you had the wall, so you weren’t complaining.
Sam’s fingers gently brushed up and down your arm, soothing you and himself. It was quiet for quite some time before Sam let out a low chuckle. You heard it rumble in his chest, then exhale past his lips and when it did, you turned your face up to his. “What?”
“I’ve never had a girl in this bed before,” he chuckled again, his cheeks reddening at his own statement. You couldn’t help but blush too. Surely, he had brought girls home to meet his parents, and surely he had brought girls home to his own home before, but something about being the only girl to ever sleep in this bed with him, was special.
“Never?” You challenged. You wanted to know more and hopefully he was comfortable with sharing more. You wondered if he had indeed brought a girl here to stay the night but she slept in a spare room or on the couch. You were curious, especially now that he had opened up the floor to questions with his statement.
Sam shook his head, well prepared to give an answer, almost like he knew you would ask. “Never. Not even Jessica. She used to stay over really late, especially when we were off for the breaks, but she always said she felt uncomfortable sleeping next to me when my family was just down the hall. Mom’s always been okay with her staying, and gave me and Jess the same rules she just gave you and I but Jess never wanted to,” he paused, clearing his throat, “we didn't even spend Christmas together ‘til our last one. She was usually with her parents and I was with mine. We didn't do presents on Christmas day; it would usually be the day after, or whenever I saw her next.”
You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him when you spoke, “I’m very happy to be spending Christmas with you.”
Sam smiled, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Me too,” another kiss. “So can I ask, what about you and Corbin, did you two spend every Christmas together?”
“Pretty much,” you nodded, “our first Christmas we spent together we were in our own house, so we invited both our families over for dinner that night. That ended up just being what we did every year. We did gifts, hung out with our families and then the night was over.”
“Well, I’m glad we get to do something christmasy with both our families, together. Spending the afternoon with your family was a lot of fun, and I’m glad you’re here tonight and you’ll be here tomorrow for Christmas with my family. Though, with all the time I’ve spent with you, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go come Sunday night.” He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head as his arms tightened around your waist.
You giggled, feeling the slight scruff on his cheeks brush against your hair. “Duty calls, Sam. It’s just something you’re going to have to deal with, y’know dating a doctor and all,” you bragged.
“As long as I get to tell everyone I’m dating a hot doctor, I guess I’m okay with it,” he yawned, “besides, those babies need you more than I do.”
“Goodnight, Sam,” you hummed, resting your ear against his chest, hearing the faint beat of his heart as the two of you drifted off.
You woke up to the smell of coffee and a cold bed on Christmas morning. The sheets were neatly tucked around you, but the warm figure you had been curled up against all night long was no longer there. Instead, the side of the bed was cold, like he had been gone for a little while now.
Pulling yourself out of the warm covers, you quickly picked up your phone from the nightstand. It was just about 8 o’clock, and you figured Sam was already downstairs with his family. You were a little embarrassed, as you padded down the stairs, though when you entered the living room, it was empty, save for the tree and the gifts that were scattered underneath it.
Your nose led you to the kitchen, where Mary Winchester was standing next to the stove, a pot of coffee brewing beside her. “Good morning,” you spoke, hoping not to startle the older woman.
“Morning, Y/N. Sam and John are outside shoveling. Coffee?” she asked, but before you could answer she was turning around and placing a warm cup in your hands. “Sam made it earlier for you and asked me to keep it warm. I just reheated it, so it should be nice and hot.”
“Thank you,” you responded, taking a sip of the warm beverage, made just how you like it with a bit of cream and sugar. “I’ll be sure to thank Sam later as well. Where’s Dean at?” you asked, realizing she had yet to mention her oldest son.
“Presumably, asleep. If that boy has a day off, he likes to sleep in. I’m surprised Sam’s not still asleep too, or at least still in bed with you,” Mary answered, coming around to sit with you at the table.
“He was pretty set on helping John this morning, especially after you warned him last night that he’d have to shovel.”
Mary laughed, sipping from her own cup of coffee. “At least he listens, right?” You giggled, agreeing with her. “Would you like some kringle? There’s kringle on the counter, if you’re hungry,” she offered.
“I’ve never had kringle before, so I promised Sam he could be around when I tried some for the first time. And, as hungry as I am, I’ll just wait until they’re done,” you assured. You wanted to keep your promise to Sam, and hopefully the kringle would be as good as he had made it seem to be. You didn’t want to try it just to not like it.
“They should be in soon. They started around 7:30, and it’s not that big of a driveway, or sidewalk.”
As if they had been by the door, waiting, the two men walked in, red faced and breathing heavy. “Speak of the devils,” you chuckled, taking in Sam’s appearance as he began stripping out of his jacket and gloves and boots.
“Good morning,” Sam grinned, making his way to you and planting a chastile kiss to your lips. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, but you were quick to pull away from the cold touch.
“Your hands are like ice,” you commented.
Sam huffed out a laugh, nodding, “I know! I was outside shoveling, thank you very much.” Sam reached over you and snatched up your coffee cup, cupping his hands around the warm mug before taking a drink.
“Hey! That was mine, thank you very much!” you mocked, trying to reach up for it, but his height got the best of you.
“I made it,” he retorted, taking one more drink before setting it down. “Thank you, very much.” This time he sounded sincere, like he was actually thanking you for sharing - against your will, you might add.
“You two bicker like an old married couple,” a grumpy Dean sounded from the doorway, clothed in his pajamas from last night and a green robe. “Oooh, kringle!” His bitterness was over as he went straight for the pastry and started pile piece after piece into his hands.
“Wait!” Sam interrupted, “save some for Y/N, she’s never even had kringle before!”
“Never had kringle? Well, what’re you waiting for, eat!” Dean placed a rather large piece in front of you, finding himself a seat at the table to enjoy his own pieces.
Sam let go of your shoulders, “no, not yet! I need my camera!” You groaned and rolled your eyes. Obviously whatever this dessert treat was, it was a big deal to have your first bite.
And it was no wonder they were making a big deal out of it, because when you took your first bite, you realized why. The almond filling, plus the icing on top all threaded together with the pastry dough was heaven in your mouth. You were now seeing why Dean piled his hand high with the sweet treat. You gave Sam a thumbs up, with your mouth still full, trying not to laugh when Sam took a picture of you like that.
Presents were next. You all had moved into the living room with your respective cups of coffee and gathered around the tree. John had turned the tv on, noticing that A Christmas Story was just starting. “Another Winchester family tradition is to watch this movie while opening presents,” Sam informed you.
You, Sam, and Dean separated the presents into their respective piles. One for John, one for Mary, one for Sam, one for Dean and one for you.
“Go ahead, open ‘em up,” Mary announced, and you watched as Sam and Dean both picked up a present, reading off who it was from before tearing into the paper. “You too, Y/N,” she nudged, and you nodded, grabbing one of your presents too to open.
Mary had gotten you a few clothes - you assumed Sam had let her know what size you wore - as well as a new planner for the next year, something you had mentioned to Sam you wanted, and were very happy to receive from his mom. John had got some pens and paper clips to go with the journal. He was unsure what to get you, so besides the pens, he got you a gift card to your favorite store, and you were more than happy with just that. As a joke, Dean had given you a new stethoscope, but you informed him you had been needing a new one, and he was very pleased with himself for getting it. “Santa” had gotten each of you a new calendar, as well as some chocolate to eat.
You were most excited for Sam’s gifts though, but that was a bit of a given. With five gifts total, he reminded you that he didn’t go over 50 dollars when you became a bit suspicious. The first gift you opened was some fruit flavored chewy candy, something sugary that you could eat to stay up during your long days. He got you a wintery scented candle to go with the throw blanket and book he got you as well. The last thing Sam got you was a necklace, a stereotypical romantic gift, but you loved it. It was a small gold leaf, with a pearl attached to a gold chain. It wasn’t hard to realize why he had bought it; Autumn was what brought you two together.
“Thank you, Sam,” you gushed, leaning forward to kiss him quickly. “I love them.”
You had gotten Mary some new hand towels and some lotion she had once mentioned was her favorite. You gave John some of your fathers homebrewed beer and a beer glass to go with it. Not too soon after, John was putting a bottle in the fridge, letting you know he’d be drinking it later. Dean received a bottle of his favorite whiskey from you, and the both of you thanked Sam for helping you pick that out for him.
You waited eagerly as Sam opened his presents from you. You felt a bit bad, having only gotten him three things. The first was a new case for his laptop, as he mentioned needed one. His old one was starting to tear, and the zipper on it had broken too. You bought him another SD card for his camera, this one less gigabytes than his other, but it still gave him two instead of just one. The last thing you got him was a bit cheesy, but you thought it was cute. It was a jar filled with chocolate kisses and under the lid you had written, “kisses for when I’m not around.” His face reddened and he smiled at that one. “Well, since you are around,” he began and then leaned over to kiss you. “Thank you, baby.”
Night came sooner than you hoped, and you did have to go back to work at 11. You ate a simple dinner with Sam’s family and thanked them one last time for the wonderful Christmas, before he was driving you to your apartment.
After spending the last two days with him, you really did not want to tell him goodbye. It was the best Christmas Eve and Christmas you had ever had, or at least the best you’d had in years. You invited Sam in, though it was nearing 9:30 and you really needed to shower and get yourself ready to go.
You drug out the final goodbye for twenty minutes before he announced that he really should let you get ready. With a sad laugh, you agreed. “Thank you for a wonderful Christmas. I was very happy to spend it with you and your family,” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso.
“And thank you for a wonderful Christmas Eve. I’m glad you could stay the night and I’m glad we could spend some time with your family as well. Those kids are just darling, and I was happy to get to see your brother and dad again.”
You stood on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. You listened to him chuckle shortly after you had pulled away. “God, and I was so sure you’d be sick of me by now,” you mentioned.
“No,” Sam breathed, shaking his head, “if anything, I’m more in love with you now than before.” Without realizing it, Sam had just admitted to you that he loved you. It didn’t register until he caught a glimpse of your face: shocked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your mouth slightly agape. “Y/N… sh-shit, I didn’t… I mean, I did, I do mean that, I just- I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have said it yet, I’m s-”
“Wait,” you interrupted, noticing that he was trying to pull himself away from you. His cheeks were flushed, though the rest of his face was pale. “S-Sam, I… I love you too, you just caught me off guard.”
“Really?” His face began to regain color with your confession. “You’re not just saying that because I said it first, right?”
“N-No!” you stammered, “Not at all. Sam, I really do love you, I just wasn’t sure you loved me back. I didn’t want to rush into anything. I’ve known since the night you came to the hospital after I called you, upset, and you stayed with me.”
“Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving was when I realized I loved you. Watching you bond with my whole family, and watching you with your niece and nephew, I knew I loved you then.” He threw his head back, chuckling lightly before he looked at you again. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Sam,” you responded, your eyes tearing up slightly from his confession. Before tears could fall, you pressed your lips to his. His hand cupped the back of your head while his free arm fitted around your waist, pulling you flush against him. It was probably only thirty seconds, but felt like five minutes by the time you two had pulled away. “I really have to get ready to go though,” you breathed out, making him sigh.
“I guess I should head home. I’ll call you, tomorrow, sweetheart,” he said, pulling himself away from you.
You nodded, your hands the only thing that were still connected now. “Goodnight, Sam,” you murmured, frowning a bit when his hand finally slipped free of yours as he opened the door.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
When you were sure Sam was out of earshot, you screeched, bouncing up and down softly on your feet. You felt like a million butterflies were free in your stomach, and you were sure your heart was racing. You simply couldn’t wait to tell Josie about this news.
Tags: @anoril @supernatural-jackles @iwantthedean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @d-s-winchester @hasta-impalasta @winchestersnco @lipstickandwhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @growningupgeek @that1seniorchick @wildfirewinchester @livelovelike555 @feelmyroarrrr @escapiingeverythiing @supernaturallymarvellous @spirallingdownfandoms @winter-in-wakanda @munlis @acklesdowneyandhiddles-ohmy @authentic-winchester @captainradicalpassion @blackcatstiel @waiting4thedoctor @thisisthelilith @idreamofhazel @coyotesmate @exploratiionist @20secspnfam4 @sdavid09 @theulimatefangirll @lunarsaturn88 @isis278 @plaidstiel-wormstache @impossiblydparklynightmare @impalaimagining @loveitsallineed @writingbeautifulmen @summer-binging-spn @ashleychinrock @britt-spn @oriona75 @mortallymagicalobject @impala-dreamer @demonic-meatball @jotink78 @owritever @w4yn0t @itstheprincess @alcpegasus22 @fangirl1802 @smoothdogsgirl @my-lil-bit-of-everything @screamingparadox @classicteenagenothing @mysteriouslyme81 @jensen-jarpad @jared-padaloveme @elliewinchesterr @supernaturalyobessed @frankiea1998 @lenawiinchester @27bmm @poukothenerd
Mission: Smile
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Request: Could I please request a Dean x reader where she’s been down lately and it’s his mission to make her laugh? He loves her so much and all he wants to do is see her smile 🩷
Check out my Masterlist here!
Dean had been watching you for days.
At first, he thought maybe it was just a bad night's sleep or the aftermath of the recent hunt. But then.. it didn't go away.
The light in your eyes had dimmed. The usual spark he loved so damn much-the one that made you, you-was just... gone.
You still smiled, still laughed when he or Sam cracked a joke, but it wasn't real. Not the kind of laugh that lit up your whole face, the one that made his chest feel warm and full.
And it was killing him.
Dean wasn't exactly a soft guy, but when it came to you? He was a damn marshmallow. You were the one thing in his life that felt good-the one person who made all the crap they dealt with worth it. So watching you fade into yourself like this? It hurt more than any wound he'd ever taken on a hunt.
He'd tried to ask about it a couple of times, but you'd just shrugged it off, giving him a half-hearted smile and telling him you were fine.
Bullshit.
Dean knew better. So, if you weren't gonna talk about it, fine. He'd juts have to fix it another way.
And he had a plan.
Phase One: Prank War.
Dean started small-swapping the sugar for salt in Sam's coffee. You barely blinked when Sam did a classic spit take all over the kitchen floor.
He escalated with a well-placed whoopee cushion under Sam's chair in the war room. Nothing.
By the time he tried rigging the sink to spray you, only for you to just laugh small and wipe your hands off like it was normal, Dean knew he had to step up his game.
Phase Two: Bad Jokes & Terrible Puns.
“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”
“Dean…”
“They don’t have the guts!”
A barely-there smile. But not enough.
“C’mon, sweetheart. That was gold!”
“Mm-hmm. Your a dork.”
Okay, so jokes weren’t working either.
Phase Three: Impala Karaoke.
Dean cranked up the classics, belting out every rock anthem he could think of as he drove you around for hours. Then, when that didn’t work, he resorted to boy band pop.
Hearing Dean Winchester sing “I Want It That Way” with full choreography? It cracked a smile, a small laugh, but it wasn't enough.
Drastic times, Winchester.
That’s how he found himself standing in front of an old, dusty storage room deep in the bunker, staring at a pile of forgotten costumes left behind by some long-dead Men of Letters.
But now that he was here, actually holding the ridiculous outfit in his hands…
It was a full-blown pirate outfit.
We’re talking the whole deal—puffy white shirt, leather vest, knee-high boots, a ridiculously oversized pirate hat with a giant feather sticking out, and… an eye patch.
“Jesus…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at the outfit. “What the hell am I doin’?”
He could feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck. But then… he thought of you.
Of that tired, distant look in your eyes. Of how long it had been since he heard your real laugh—the one that made his heart feel like it was gonna explode.
She’s worth it.Dean blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair like he was psyching himself up for battle.
“Alright, Winchester,” he muttered, grabbing the costume. “Time to make a damn fool of yourself.”
Phase 4: Operation Costume Crisis
You were curled up on the couch in the library, absently flipping through a book that had been sitting in your lap for over an hour. You weren’t even sure what you were reading anymore—your mind was too clouded.
“Ahoy, me Love!”
Your head snapped up, and your eyes went wide.
Standing in the doorway was Dean. Dressed as a full-blown pirate.
“Oh… my… God.”
Dean was wearing everything—the white shirt, tight leather vest, and pants that clung to his legs in all the right places. But the best part? The hat.
It was huge—comically oversized, with a giant feather sticking out of the side. And perched slightly crooked on his head, it just made the whole look even more ridiculous.
But that wasn’t all.
Dean was also wearing an eye patch.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a deep, overly dramatic growl. “I be Captain Winchester, here to plunder yer heart, lass.”
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“Dean…”
“Captain Winchester,” he corrected, straightening his back and puffing out his chest.
And then…
He pulled out a plastic sword from behind his back and twirled it.
“I’ve sailed the seven seas,” he declared, his voice dipping into the most ridiculous pirate accent you’d ever heard. “And nothin’ I’ve found is as precious as ye, me love.”
You blinked again, pressing your lips together, trying so hard not to laugh.
“Dean…”
“Arrr, lass!” He pointed the plastic sword at you, narrowing his one eye dramatically. “Do ye doubt me sincerity?”
Oh, he was committed.
Dean was all in.
But you could see it—the faint flush in his cheeks, the way he shifted on his feet, clearly dying of embarrassment but still pushing through.
And that’s what broke you.
The giggle you’d been fighting finally broke free, and once it started, there was no stopping it. First, a snort. Then full-blown, belly-shaking, tears-in-your-eyes laughter.
“Oh my God,” you gasped between breaths, clutching your stomach. “Dean… what… the hell?”
“Only the best for you, sweetheart,” he muttered, but you caught the way his lips twitched—his own smile threatening to break through.
“Dean… are you serious?”
He sighed dramatically, dropping the pirate voice but not the ridiculous accent.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, tugging at the damn eye patch. “I’ve been prancin’ around this bunker for twenty minutes tryin’ to work up the nerve to come in here. You better appreciate this.”
And that’s when he twirled the sword again… and promptly knocked the hat right off his head.
That did it.
You lost it all over again, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe, tears streaming down your face as Dean groaned and bent down to pick up the hat.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, but his grin was wide and genuine now, his green eyes brighter than they’d been in days. “Mission accomplished.”
Dean’s grin softened as he knelt in front of you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“Feel better now?” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone—just Dean, looking at you like you hung the damn moon.
“Dean…”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” His lips brushed gently against yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
“Mission accomplished, Captain Winchester,” you murmured against his mouth, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
“You know…” Your fingers trailed lightly down his chest, stopping at the edge of the leather vest. “I think I might have a thing for pirates.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and his lips quirked.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Especially ones who go all out to make me laugh.”
Dean’s grin turned downright wicked, but before he could say anything, you tugged him down, pulling him on top of you as you leaned back on the couch.
“Easy there, lass,” he growled, slipping right back into character, his voice dipping into that ridiculous pirate accent again.
“Oh no…” You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “You’re not seriously—”
“Ye best be ready,” he murmured, his lips brushing along your neck, “for a night of plunderin’ and pleasure, me love.”
“Dean…”
“Nay, lass,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and sending shivers down your spine. “Ye’ll address me as Captain.”
You snorted, but before you could protest, his lips captured yours, swallowing your laughter as his hands wandered lower.
“Dean—”
“Captain,” he murmured again, his voice lower this time, the teasing mixed with something darker.
And when his lips moved to your neck, trailing heat down to your collarbone, you decided…
Maybe Captain Winchester wasn’t so bad after all.
Later that night, with you curled up against his chest, your soft breaths warming his skin, Dean couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.
That smile.
The one he’d been dying to see for days.
And now? It was back.
“Mission accomplished,” he murmured softly, brushing a kiss to your forehead.
His chest felt lighter, his heart full.
Because seeing you happy again?
That was worth all the damn embarrassment.
And as he drifted off, holding you close, one thought crossed his mind: "I’d do it all over again."
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
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Through the Shadows: Chapter 7 - Confronting Fears
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.
Chapter Summary: A hunt leaves Y/N broken and scared in more ways than one.
Warnings: Heavy triggers; broken leg, injuries, ghost attacks, pain and anxiety. Mentions of bullies.
Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!
The morning dawned crisp and clear, a welcome change from the tense night before. Y/N felt surprisingly calm, her anxiety at a manageable level of 2-which was a rarity she cherished and she couldn't help but think maybe sleeping next to Dean was the cause of it. She caught Dean's smile and admiring glance from the table beside the beds, and it warmed her heart more than she expected.
They gathered their gear and headed to the abandoned factory where the ghost was rumoured to haunt. Dean briefed them on the plan as they stood outside the weathered entrance.
"Sam you take the left wing, Y/N, you'll come with me," Dean instructed, his voice firm yet reassuring.
Y/N nodded, listening intently as Dean explained the nature of the ghost. "It preys on our fears, shapes itself to them. It can mess with your head and even physically harm you. Stay alert and keep your guard up."
They entered the factory one by one, the air thick with dust and an eerie silence. Y/N stayed close to Dean, her senses heightened. They walked down dimly lit corridors, the echo of their footsteps reverberating off the walls.
Suddenly, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, grabbing her arm with an icy grip. She gasped, struggling against its hold, but it was strong. In a heartbeat, Y/N was already pulled into a seperate hallway, out of sight.
Panic surged through Dean as he shouted her name, his heart pounding in his chest. He raced down the hallways, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Where was she? What would happen to her?
Meanwhile, Y/N found herself in a nightmare come to life. The ghost twisted and morphed, taking the form of her worst fears. First, an image of herself appeared before her, bloody and disheveled. "You are never going to be loved, nobody could ever love you!" The image screamed, inches from her face. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as the image vanquished before her. It was quiet for a moment as she turned, her entire body jumping in spot when she saw her next fear come to life.
The tormentors from her school-the bullies who made her life a living hell appeared before her, sneering and laughing loudly. Her breath caught in her throat as the memories flooded back, their taunts echoing in her ears.
One of them grabbed her roughly, slamming her against the wall. Another came up behind her and pulled her on the ground, their hands tightening around her throat. The main bully stepped forward, a cruel smirk across her face.
"Remember when we pushed you and you broke your leg?" He sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
Y/N's eyes widened in horror as the ghostly manifestation pressed down on her leg with supernatural force. Pain shot through her as she cried out, the memory vivid and agonizing. With a desperate surge of strength, she slammed her food against the ground, breaking free from the ghost's grasp but not before a loud snap echoed on the walls.
Dean's heart nearly stopped at the sound of her scream rushing through the factory. He followed the noise, rounding a corner to find Y/N crumpled on the ground, her face contorted in pain. He dropped beside her, his hands resting gentle but urgent.
"Y/N, what happened, are you okay? His voice was thick with concern, his eyes scanning her for injuries.
Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she clutched her leg, "It's broken." She gasped, her voice trembling with pain and shock.
Dean's hands shook slightly as he lifted her into his arms, his heart breaking at her anguish. "Hang on, we're getting you out of here." He vowed, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat.
They stumbled out of the factory, Sam appearing at their side with a look of relief mixed with concern. Together, they hurried to the Impala, Dean carefully settling Y/N in the backseat. He sped towards the nearest hospital, adrenaline coursing through him as he prayed for Y/N's swift recovery.
At the hospital, Y/n was quickly taken into surgery to set her leg and apply a cast. Dean paced the waiting room, his mind replaying the terrifying moments in the factory and how it felt to lose her.
When the doctor finally emerged, Dean's heart leaped into his throat. "Is she okay?" he demanded, his voice strained.
'The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "She's stable. She's going to have to be in a cast until her leg heals with time."'The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "She's stable. She's going to have to be in a cast until her leg heals with time."
Dean let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. He followed the doctor to her room, where she lay pale but conscious, her leg elevated in a bright white cast.
He approached her bed, his expression a mix of guilt and tenderness. "I'm so sorry Y/N..." He murmured, his voice filling with emotion. "I should have-"
Y/N reached out, gently touching his hand. "It's not your fault Dean." She whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude despite the pain. "Thank you for being there for me, for saving my life."
His throat tightened and he tried to clear it before speaking, "Always." He vowed, his voice an earnest promise.
As they sat together in the quiet hospital room, she couldn't help but think back to what the image of herself yelled at her, and seeing his smile, she worried that the image may be right.
But as Dean sat beside her, hand clutching hers tightly, he couldn't deny the growing strength of his feelings for Y/N-feelings that went far beyond friendship.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 8 coming soon stay tuned!
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Through the Shadows: Chapter 6 - Bonds & Breakthroughs
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.
Chapter Summary: As much as she tries to keep boundaries in place, something is always pushing them together.
Warnings: Mentions of sh scars, mentions of anxiety and depression, anxious reader.
Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!
The Impala hummed along the dark highway, headlights cutting through the night. Y/N sat in the backseat, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She curled up with Dean's jacket draped over her, seeking comfort in its familiar scent. The rhythmic motion of the car and the low rumble of Dean and Sam's conversation lulled her into a deep sleep.
Hours passed, and the jacket slipped from Y/N's shoulders, pooling around her waist. Unknown to her, Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, concern etching lines on his face. He saw the scars on her legs, bright against her pale skin, and his heart clenched with sorrow and concern.
He remembered her words from their earlier conversation, how she had revealed that the last time she had harmed herself was before their previous hunt. Seeing the scars now, he couldn't help but wonder if there were more recent ones. His protective instincts surged, and gently Dean reached back, retrieving his jacket from where it had fallen.
Carefully, he draped it over Y/N's shoulders again, tucking it around her to keep her warm and shield her scars from view. His jaw tightened, his thoughts consumed by the depth of her struggles and the strength she showed in facing them alone.
The Impala rolled into a dimly lit motel parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires. Exhausted but grateful for the breather, Dean parked the car. They approached the front desk, and Y/N's anxiety spiked when the receptionist informed them that there was only one room left with two beds.
Dean glanced at Y/N, noticing her discomfort, but before he could say anything, she spoke up. "I'll take the bed with Sam," She said softly, her voice tinged with unease.
Dean's heart sank at her words, a pang of disappointment flashing through him. He understood her reasoning-wanting to avoid any potential awkwardness between them-but he couldn't deny the ache in his chest at the prospect of sleeping separately from her.
Sam nodded in agreement, giving Y/N a reassuring smile. "Sure, no problem."
Later that night, darkness enveloped the room as Y/N tried to settle into sleep. However, the bed was narrower than she anticipated, and in a sleepy shuffle, Sam accidentally kicked her off the bed with a soft thump.
Dean, who had been lying awake, immediately sat up at the sound. "Y/N, are you okay?" He asked, concern colouring his voice.
Y/N rubbed her side where she had landed awkwardly on the floor. "I'm fine," she muttered, feeling embarrassed by her clumsiness.
Dean hesitated, then spoke softly, his gaze gentle yet determined. "Why don't you just sleep in this bed with me? I move and take a lot less room than the sleeping giant over there."
Y/N giggled as her heart fluttered with a mix of uncertainty and relief. She hestitated, glancing between Sam's spread out form, and Dean's earnest expression. Finally, she nodded silently, grateful for his understanding.
Dean moved over, pulling back the covers and making space for her. She slipped under the blanket beside him, her body instinctively seeking warmth and comfort. She lay on her side facing away from him, but she could feel the heat of his body beside her.
Dean laid still for a moment, his heart racing with a mixture of emotions. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her everything was okay, but he didn't dare cross the fragile boundary between them. Instead, he lay quietly, the warmth of their shared space soothing the ache in his chest.
As they lay there in the quiet darkness, Y/N felt a sense of safety she hadn't experienced in a long time. Dean's presence beside her was a balm to her restless soul, his steady breathing and the warmth of his body calming her frayed nerves.
In that moment, they both realized the depth of their connection, forged through shared vulnerability and understanding. Despite the challenges ahead, they found peace in each other's presence, a indefinite bond growing stronger with each passing heartbeat.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 7 coming soon stay tuned!
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Through the Shadows: Chapter 10 - Nightmares
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.
Chapter Summary: Y/N can't decide which nightmare is the worst, the ones plaguing her dreams or the ones she's living.
Warnings: nightmare, comforting dean, anxiety, swearing.
Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!
The night settled over the bunker like a heavy blanket, darkness seeping into every corner. Y/N slept fitfully, her dreams a twisted tapestry of past horrors and present fears. In her subconscious, the memories of the factory haunted her-echoes of pain, fear, and voices that tormented her.
She thrashed in her sleep, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cried out in anguish. Her voice pierced the quiet of the night, a raw sound of suffering that cut through Dean's dreams. He awoke with a start, heart pounding in his chest as he rushed down the hallway to Y/N's room.
Panic gripped him when he found her tangled in her sheets, her face contorted in distress. "Y/N!" Dean called out urgently, kneeling beside her bed. "Wake up!"
But Y/N was trapped in her nightmare, lost in a world of torment. She cried out, begging for mercy, her body jerking with every imagined blow. Dean gently shook her, trying to provoke her from the grip of her dream, but it only seemed to intensify her panic.
In her terror, Y/N pushed away frantically, her movements uncoordinated and desperate. She fell off the bed with a sharp cry, curling into herself as she pleaded. "No, please, don't hurt me anymore!"
Dean's heart shattered at her words, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Y/N, it's Dean," he urged, reaching out to touch her trembling shoulder. "You're safe. It's just a dream."
But Y/N couldn't hear him through the haze of fear. Her breathing quickened, each gasp a struggle for air as her mind relived the horrors of the past. Dean's desperation grew as he pulled her into a tight embrace, trying to anchor her in reality.
"Relax, sweetheart, wake up." Dean whispered desperately, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's me, Y/N. You're safe now."
Slowly, Y/N's panicked movements began to still, her eyes fluttering open with confusion and guilt. She sobbed apologizes, her voice hoarse with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She repeated, her hands trembling as she reached for Dean.
"Don't apologize," Dean murmured softly, his arms tightening around her. "It's okay. You did nothing wrong."
He helped her back into bed, tucking the blankets around her with gentle care. Y/N stared up at him, her eyes filled with shame and gratitude. Dean sat beside her, a silent lookout guarding her rest, his presence a comfort in the darkness.
"You should try to sleep," Dean urged gently, his voice a soothing whisper. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."
Y/N nodded weakly, exhaustion washing over her in waves. She closed her eyes, finally succumbing to the lure of sleep. Dean remained by her door, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face, his thoughts a uproar of worry and fierce protectiveness.
The morning sun cast a soft glow through the bunker, painting the walls in hues of warmth. Y/N slept peacefully, exhaustion finally granting her a release from the relentless chaos of her mind. Dean awoke with a start, his thoughts immediately turning to Y/N. He quietly slipped out of the chair, careful not to make any noise, and made his way to the kitchen in the search of coffee.
In the kitchen, Sam noticed Dean's tired expression and concern traced into every line of his face. "Dean, you look like you haven't slept. You okay?" Sam remarked, his voice laced with worry.
Dean shrugged, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Long night. I wanted to be around in case Y/N woke up again." he explained, his gaze distant with memories of the night before.
Sam chuckled softly, earning a puzzled look from dean. "What's so funny?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sam shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Just a few months ago, you couldn't stand her," he replied teasingly, "Now, she's your favorite person."
Dean felt heat rise to his cheeks, his expression softening with fondness. "Shut up, Sammy," he muttered, though his tone lacked it's usual bite.
Sam's smile turned sincere. "Seriously, Dean," he said gently. "It's great. I've never seen you like this with anybody, so open and passionate."
Dean's throat tightened with unspoken emotions. He knew Sam was right. Y/N had tunneled her way into his heart, weaving a tapestry of understanding and love that Dean had never expected to find in this lifetime.
Sam finally persuaded dean to get some rest, promising to keep an ear out for any signs of Y/N waking up. Reluctantly, Dean agreed, trusting Sam to watch over her.
Later, when Y/N emerged from her room, she immediately noticed Dean's absence and sought out Sam. "Where's Dean?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Sam explained that Dean had been exhausted from last night and had gone to sleep. Y/N's anxiety spiked at the thought of Dean sacrificing his rest for her sake. "I'm just going to take some pain meds and go back to bed," she mumbled, her guilt weighing heavy on her.
The day passed slowly for Dean, who woke up later and searched out Sam to inquire about Y/N. "Did she come out of her room at all?" Dean asked, his concern evident.
Sam nodded, "Yeah, she did," he replied, "But she's in pain, so she took some meds and went back to bed."
Dean's heart sank at the news, uncertainty gnawing at him. He decided to check on Y/N, wanting to reassure himself that she was alright. He approached her room and knocked softly, calling her name. There was no response. Dean frowned, a mix of worry and frustration knotting in his stomach. Eventually, he gave up and left, though his thoughts remained with Y/N, his worry growing.
Meanwhile, Y/N lay in her bed, struggling to sleep as guilt and despair clouded her thoughts. She felt utterly useless, trapped within the suffocating grasp of her depression. The weight of Dean's concern only intensified her feelings of inadequacy, convincing her that she was a burden unworthy of his kindness.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 11 coming soon stay tuned!
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Through the Shadows: Chapter 9 - Vulnerabilities
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.
Chapter Summary: Navigating feelings is extremely difficult, especially when there is somebody like Dean prying open your heart.
Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, hard stuff.
Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!
Days stretched into weeks, and Y/N found herself retreating more into isolation, battling the relentless assault of anxiety and depression. Despite Dean's unwavering support and care, she couldn't shake the feeling of being a burden-an anchor weighing everyone around her down.
She spent hours in her room, swallowing pain pills to numb the ache in her leg and the chaos in her mind. Dean's concern grew with each passing day, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow as he watched Y/N withdraw further away from him.
One afternoon, Dean decided to reach out to her again. He gently woke her from a deep slumber, his voice soft with concern. "Hey, Y/N," he murmured, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Would you like to go for a drive? Get some fresh air?"
Y/N hesitated, exhaustion and uncertainty battling within her. She knew she couldn't keep hiding, couldn't let her demons win. With a small nod, she agreed, mustering the strength to get up despite the pain.
Dean offered his hand, but Y/N insisted on managing herself. She struggled, leaning heavily on her crutches, but she made it to the car. They drove in silence for a while until they reached their familiar spot-a quiet overlook with a view that stretched for miles.
Dean parked the car and turned to Y/N, concern engraved in his features. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with worry.
Y/N shook her head slightly, tears pricking at her eyes. "I appreciate everything you're doing," she began softly, her voice trembling with every word. "But I feel so useless lately. My depression... it's getting bad."
Dean's heart broke at her words, his own emotions raw and unguarded. "Y/N," he whispered, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "You're not useless. You're incredibly strong, and you're fighting through this. You don't have to do it alone."
She managed a weak laugh, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Stop being so fucking amazing," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
Dean blushed slightly at her words, a mix of humility and affection in his gaze. "I won't hover so much," he promised quietly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "But I'm here for you, okay? Always."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, the weight of their shared vulnerabilities hanging between them. Eventually, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, and Dean found himself sharing stories of his first love-a brief, intense romance that had left a lasting impact on him.
Curious, he turned to Y/N. "What about you?" he asked gently. "Do you have a first love?"
Y/N flushed with embarrassment, averting her gaze. "I... um" she stammered, feeling exposed. "I've never been in love."
Dean's surpise was evident, but he quickly masked it with understanding. "That's okay." he reassured her, his voice warm and supportive. "Everyone experiences love differently."
She let out a bitter laugh, taking a sip of her drink. "Never had a first kiss, a first time... nothing," she admitted, her tone self-deprecating. "Pretty attractive, right?"
Dean's heart clenched at her words. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle yet firm. "There's nothing wrong with that," he insisted, his voice unwavering. "It's completely normal. You'll find your way, Y/N. And when you do, it'll be worth it."
Y/N blinked back tears, overwhelmed by his sincerity and kindness. She changed the subject quickly, deflecting from a deeper truth she kept hidden-that she had promised herself never to fall in love, fearing that the weight of her disorders would crush any chance at happiness.
She had no clue what love felt like, or looked like but she couldn't help but wonder if that's what this was, sitting on the roof of a car with your best friend, feeling the warm tingly feelings inside of your chest.
Dean sensed her need for quiet, and respected her boundaries even as his concern lingered. They sat together in quiet companionship, the sun settling on the horizon as they both thought about what this friendship really meant.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 10 coming soon stay tuned!
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