deans-queen

[deans-queen]

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Russell and Reader's relationship is slowly dying.

Warnings: angst, arguing, relationship problems, smut, emotional topics.

Pre-AN: This fills the "The Last Time by Taylor Swift" square for @jacklesversebingo. Bold/italic text -> song lyrics

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought we’d become strangers in the same room. It’s what people always warned me about—how love can fade, how fire turns to ash, how two people who once couldn’t keep their hands off each other end up avoiding eye contact across the dinner table.

But here we are….

Russell Shaw—my Russell—used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Now, his eyes dart to his phone, to the TV, anywhere but me. It’s been weeks, months even, of silence so loud it’s deafening. When we speak, the words are barbed, sharpened by frustration.

The night everything shattered, it started small, like most fights do. He came home late again. I sat on the couch, my legs curled under me, wearing one of his sweatshirts that no longer smelled like him.

“Hey,” he mumbled, barely sparing me a glance as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey,” I echoed, flat and lifeless. I watched him drop his keys on the table like this was just another day, like we hadn’t been drifting apart for what felt like an eternity.

“You could’ve called,” I said finally, my voice quiet but sharp.

Russell sighed, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “Don’t start, Y/N. It’s been a long day.”

The words scraped against me like nails on a chalkboard. “Don’t start?” I repeated, standing up. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for you, and I’m starting?”

“Yeah, you are,” he snapped, turning toward me now. “Jesus, can’t you just let it go for once? It’s like you’re always looking for a fight.”

The laugh that escaped me was bitter. “I’m looking for a fight? I’m looking for a fight? I’m looking for you to give a damn about this relationship, Russell. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

And there it was—the crack, the rupture. It all came spilling out after that. Words we couldn’t take back.

“Maybe we should stop trying so hard,” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less deadly. “Because clearly, this isn’t working.”

The silence that followed was the longest pause of my life. I felt like the floor had dropped from beneath me.

“So that’s it?” I whispered. My voice broke. “You’re just gonna give up??”

He looked at me, and for the first time in months, I thought I saw pain in his eyes. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then go,” I choked out, tears brimming. “If you don’t know how to fix this, if you don’t want to fix us—then go.”

He didn’t argue.

Russell grabbed his keys, his wallet, and the jacket I had bought him last Christmas. He didn’t look back as the door slammed shut behind him.

The days without him were quiet. The worst kind of quiet, where I’d hear phantom echoes of him in every corner of our home. His laugh. The way he’d say my name when he was teasing me. His voice rough and low when he’d whisper dirty things in my ear, pulling me close as his hands wandered. I’d lie in our bed at night, curling into his empty side, remembering the way his body would press against mine, the way he’d kiss me until I couldn’t breathe.

Now I couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason.

This is the last time I’m asking you this

Put my name at the top of your list

This is the last time I’m asking you why

You break my heart in the blink of an eye.

I thought that this—us—was over for good… and it tore me apart.

And then, one evening, there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it, there he stood. Russell Shaw. His dark eyes were shadowed, his jaw tense, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to slam the door in his face. The other part wanted to throw myself into his arms and tell him I’d take him back in an instant.

“What do you want, Russell?” I whispered, my throat tight.

He stepped closer, closing the space between us. “You.”

Tears burned my eyes. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, reaching out to touch my face. His palm was warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but lean into it. “Sweetheart… I’ve been a fucking idiot. I let us fall apart, and I didn’t fight for you like I should’ve. I can’t…” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

The tears I’d been holding back spilled over. “You broke my heart, Russell.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Let me fix it. Please.”

I looked up into his eyes, searching for a lie, but all I saw was sincerity and desperation.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. His mouth was on mine before I could think, his lips rough and hungry, like he was trying to remind me what we still had. My body melted into his, the familiar strength of his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against him.

“I missed you,” he groaned against my mouth, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through me. His hands slid down to my hips, gripping them hard as he pressed me back against the door. “I need you, Y/N.”

“Russ…” I whispered, breathless, but my protests faded when his lips trailed to my neck. His teeth scraped lightly against my skin, and I let out a soft moan.

“I fucked up,” he muttered, kissing a path along my collarbone. “But I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Do you hear me?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, clutching at his shirt, desperate to feel him closer, to remind myself he was real, that he was here.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “Say I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” I whispered. “Always.”

He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was trying to memorize me.

And in that moment, as he held me like I was his whole world, I believed him.

I knew we still had a long way to go. I knew love alone wouldn’t fix us. But as Russell murmured my name against my lips, his hands tender and firm all at once, I let myself hope.

The weight of his words lingered in the air between us, heavy and warm. Russell pressed me against the door like he couldn’t bear even an inch of space. His lips hovered just above mine, our breaths mingling, both of us caught in the pull that had always been magnetic.

“Russell…” I breathed, his name soft but full of everything I hadn’t said these past weeks—hurt, longing, love.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands slid up my sides, slow and deliberate, leaving fire in their wake. “I need to hear you, baby.”

“Russell.”

He groaned, his forehead dropping to mine for a brief second, as if to steady himself. Then he kissed me again, harder this time. It wasn’t careful or polite. It was desperate, hungry—like he was trying to pull me back to him, piece by piece. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back just as fiercely.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking. “God, Y/N… I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

The wall was cold against my back, but it only made the heat between us more unbearable. I gasped as his hands roamed, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. There was no mistaking the hardness pressing against me, and my body answered without hesitation—my legs wrapping around him, the ache in my core making me dizzy.

He carried me easily, his strength still so familiar, as if he’d never stopped holding me like this. We didn’t speak as he walked us into the living room, his lips never leaving mine. I felt the soft cushion of the couch against my back as he laid me down, hovering over me.

Russell’s dark eyes searched mine, his expression tender but still laced with that possessive fire I’d missed. “Tell me this is okay.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s more than okay.”

His lips found mine again, and I lost myself in him. The way he kissed me was different—like he was afraid this really was the last time. His tongue teased mine, coaxing soft moans from me as his hands pushed the hem of my shirt up.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his voice thick as he looked down at me. He tugged my shirt over my head, tossing it aside before leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my chest. My skin tingled as he moved lower, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving faint marks that burned with pleasure.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his breath hot against my stomach as he unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you.”

“I’ve always been yours,” I replied, my voice breaking with need.

Russell growled softly at my words, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread them apart, his dark gaze devouring me. He trailed soft kisses up the inside of my legs, his stubble rough against my skin in the best way.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispered, his voice husky as he kissed higher. “What’s wrong? You know I’m going to take care of you.”

I bit my lip, my fingers curling into the cushions as he finally pressed his mouth to where I needed him most. My head fell back, a strangled moan escaping as his tongue moved slowly, teasing me just enough to drive me insane.

“Russell…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, his tone smug and full of heat as his lips moved against me. “You sound so pretty when you say my name like that.”

I whimpered, my body arching against him, and he tightened his grip on my thighs, holding me in place as he worked me to the edge. My body burned for him—every inch of me responding to his touch like it had been starved for it.

When I was trembling and breathless, he finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at me. “Not yet,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I need you around me, Y/N. I need to feel you.”

I barely had time to process before he was shedding his clothes, the sharp lines of his body still as breathtaking as I remembered. Russell hovered over me again, his weight pressing me into the couch as he settled between my thighs.

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed into me with one slow, deep thrust, and I gasped, clutching at his back. Russell groaned into my ear, his breath ragged as he buried himself in me.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so damn perfect.”

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper as he moved—slow at first, savoring every second, as if he was trying to remember how we fit together so perfectly. My body arched into him, meeting each thrust, each roll of his hips.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his lips trailing along my jaw. “Every inch of you is mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned, my voice breathless and needy.

He kissed me hard then, his rhythm quickening as the tension built between us. His name fell from my lips over and over, each word drowned out by the sound of our bodies meeting, the soft creak of the couch beneath us. Russell’s hands roamed my body like he was memorizing every curve, every reaction.

When I finally came undone, the world spun. I clung to him, crying out as my body trembled beneath him. He followed moments later, groaning my name like a man who’d just found salvation.

Russell collapsed against me, his chest rising and falling as we caught our breath together. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel alone.

After a moment, he shifted, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped.”

Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from pain. I cupped his face in my hands, pulling him down to kiss me softly.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

This wasn’t the end for us.

Not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

I realized the other day before writing this that I have not used Russell and he is SO underrated ! This was a sad one but of course you guys know I’m gonna make it a happy ending - with smut included 🤭🥰

Hope you enjoyed this story!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

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𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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[deans-queen]

awww that was so cute but sad ty for finding a way to lmk it was out! i’m not sure why the tags are not working sry (also tumblr doesn’t let me respond to dms that why i’m answering like this) and agh dean better step it up but also aw he’s my poor little baby

ngl this one also brought tears

💗💗💗

I definitely had to make sure it was a happy ending! This one hurt to write 😭🥲

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Y/N finds Dean cheating on her with Lisa.

Warnings: angst, light smut (nothing too crazy), mentions of cheating, language. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "I thought it'd be hell, but I was wrong. It was way worse." square for @jacklesversebingo. This fic is also inspired by the song "Take a Bow" by Rhianna -> hence the title. (Bold/italic text -> song lyrics)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought my heart could break—especially not because of the one person I believed would never hurt me… Dean Winchester.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway of the motel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. The sight in front of me was like a bad dream—Dean, half-dressed, his hands tangled in Lisa’s hair as she giggled against his lips.

It took a moment for them to notice me. When they did, Lisa scrambled to grab her shirt, and Dean’s face fell. “Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, holding up a trembling hand. My voice cracked, but I refused to cry in front of them. “Don’t you fucking dare, Dean!!”

“And don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Cause you’re not.”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like—”

I laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like what it is. A show. A goddamn performance. Bravo, Dean. Go on and take your FUCKING bow!”

Lisa mumbled something about leaving, but I didn’t even look at her as she slipped out the door. My focus was entirely on Dean—the man who’d claimed to love me, who’d made me believe I was his everything.

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Dean. I stood by you through all the crap with Sam, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain. Hell, I even put up with your obsession with pie. And this is what I get?”

He didn’t have an answer. His jaw clenched, and for once, Dean Winchester—the man with a smartass comment for everything—was silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The days after I walked out of that motel room felt like crawling through shards of glass. I told myself I was better off without him, that I deserved more than what he gave me. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache in my chest didn’t fade. It was like carrying a wound that refused to heal.

Every time my phone buzzed, my heart betrayed me, leaping with hope, only to crash when I saw the screen. Dean called constantly at first—voicemails, texts, all pleading for a chance to explain.

“Y/N, please. I screwed up. Just… talk to me. Let me fix this.”

But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not when it haunted me even in silence.

Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my head. That stupid, broken look on his face when I caught him. The way his voice cracked as he tried to justify the unjustifiable.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not…

Baby when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show, really had me going…

Now it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

I tried to hate him, to convince myself he was just like every other man who’d let me down. But that was the problem—Dean wasn’t like anyone else. He was everything. The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. The way he’d pull me close after a hunt, his lips on my forehead, whispering that he’d always keep me safe. And yet, he was the one who’d broken me.

I couldn’t escape the memories, no matter how hard I tried. Every corner of my life was touched by him. The leather jacket he’d left draped over the back of my chair. The stupid pie recipe he’d convinced me to try, still pinned to my fridge. Even my car smelled faintly of his cologne, like it was mocking me every time I climbed in.

My best friend tried to help. She dragged me out for drinks, told me I deserved better, cursed Dean’s name with a venom that should’ve made me feel better.

But it didn’t. Because deep down, I knew she was wrong. Dean wasn’t a bad man. He was a broken one. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because he’d been broken long before me, and I’d foolishly thought I could be the one to fix him.

Weeks passed, and the silence between us stretched, but the ache never faded. I avoided places I thought he might show up, though part of me secretly hoped he would. Maybe he’d come to the diner where I worked, storming through the door with that determined look in his eyes, telling me he wasn’t giving up.

But he didn’t.

So I told myself I was moving on. I focused on work, threw myself into tasks, and pretended I didn’t notice the empty space beside me where Dean used to be.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and there was no one to distract me, I’d feel it—the crushing weight of losing him. Not just the man who’d kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, but the partner who’d fought beside me, the friend who’d laughed with me, the lover who’d held me when the nightmares came.

Loving Dean had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Because even though he’d broken me, even though I knew I deserved better, I couldn’t stop loving him. And that was the cruelest part of all.

The next day there was a knock on my door. It was soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of rain outside. I didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. I’d felt his presence long before I opened the door.

When I finally turned the handle, there he was—Dean Winchester, soaking wet, his rain-drenched hair falling over his forehead, and his leather jacket clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in that familiar green.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’d run here.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want him here, not after everything he’d done. And yet, the sight of him—so broken, so desperate—tugged at something deep in me.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleaded, stepping forward, but not too close, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face. “I know I don’t deserve you. Hell, I don’t deserve even a second of your time after what I did. But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself from the wave of emotions crashing over me. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t do this, Y/N. I thought I could live without you, thought I could figure out a way to move on, but I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I thought it would be hell without you, but I was wrong. It was worse—so much worse.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself. “You think a pretty speech is going to fix this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You broke me, Dean. You destroyed me. Do you even understand what you did to me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. His green eyes burned into mine, raw and vulnerable. “I wake up every day and hate myself for it. For letting you walk out, for betraying you. For being the kind of guy you could never trust again.”

I wanted to yell at him, to shove him away, but the look on his face—like he was unraveling right in front of me—made my anger falter.

“I didn’t come here to ask you to forgive me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I came here because I can’t breathe without you, Y/N. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

“Dean,” I started, my voice wavering, but he cut me off.

“I love you,” he said, stepping closer, his hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. “And I know I don’t deserve to say it after what I did, but it’s the truth. I love you so damn much it’s killing me.”

His words unraveled the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. A sob escaped my throat, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I hate that I still love you.”

Dean exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He closed the small gap between us, his hands finally cradling my face with a gentleness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just… please, Y/N. Let me try.”

Before I could respond, his lips found mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, searching, like he was asking for permission with every brush of his lips. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and tinged with desperation. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel in my arms.”

“Dean,” I breathed, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down my jaw and neck. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving him despite everything.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. And I’ll never let you go again.”

I pulled back slightly, my hands on his chest. “You broke me once, Dean. If you do it again, I swear I won’t make it so easy for you…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes fierce as he cupped my face. “I swear on everything, Y/N. There’s no one else. There never was. It was always you.”

The raw honesty in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my pain, anger, and love into it. He groaned into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in weeks, I felt whole. Dean might have broken me, but he was the only one who could put me back together. And as I let him pull me into his arms, I realized I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll writing this one broke me 😭 but that’s the part of this challenge is to write out of my comfort zone. I’m always getting inspired by songs. Also I don’t picture Dean as someone who would EVER cheat but for the sake of this story I made him this way — don’t crucify me 🫣

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this one — I love you all!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 / @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy / @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

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[deans-queen]

Dean Winchester | SPN 1.05

[deans-queen]

damn gurl i forgot how much i love your fics they make me so happy (or sad i’ll admit to having cried at them before) but i came across your account again and omg. just… wow. i love it xxx 🐿️

Awe thank you so so much!! That means so much to me and it makes my heart happy that you enjoy them! 🥹🫶🏻 and yes you can be part of my taglist!

Xoxo

-Tianna

[deans-queen]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 💚

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Dean and Y/N are hunters who do not get along. Fed up with their constant bickering, Sam forces them to stay in the same motel room for the night, to learn getting along with each other.

Warnings: language, smut, enemies to lovers, angst. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the “It’s simple as a change of heart.” square for @jacklesversebingo (This is also an enemies to lovers fic.)

Dean’s POV

I stared at the door, my jaw clenched tight as the image of Y/N walking out replayed in my mind. Her voice, raw and trembling, still echoed in my ears, and it hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

I knew I messed up. Big time.

I’d pushed her too far, said things I didn’t mean—hell, things I knew would hurt her. It wasn’t fair, and deep down, I knew why I lashed out the way I did. It wasn’t just the frustration, or the stress of the job, or even the constant back-and-forth between us.

It was because I cared. I was in love with her.

More than I wanted to, more than I was ready to admit to myself, let alone her. She had this way of getting under my skin, of making me feel things I thought I’d buried a long time ago. And instead of dealing with it, I pushed her away. Again and again.

But this time… this time I might’ve pushed too far.

I ran a hand over my face, letting out a heavy sigh. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. The room felt colder, emptier without her in it. And the thought of her leaving—not just the room, but leaving us—twisted something deep in my gut.

I should’ve stopped her. Should’ve said something. Should’ve done anything to make her stay. But now… now I didn’t know if I’d even get the chance.

Before I could think twice, I was out the door, my boots pounding against the floor as I headed straight for Sam’s room. I didn’t even pause to knock gently—I started pounding on the door, urgency thrumming through me.

“Sam!” I barked, my voice louder than I intended.

The door swung open, and Sam stood there, startled but not surprised to see me. His expression was calm, but I could see the frustration lingering behind his eyes.

“Where is she?” I demanded, my voice rough, almost desperate.

Sam crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “What, you finally care now?” he asked, his tone sharp.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have time for a lecture, Sam! Just tell me where she is, please!”

He sighed, his gaze softening slightly as he studied me. “She left, Dean,” he said quietly. “She took a cab to the bus station, said she wants to go back to California.”

My heart sank at his words, but I didn’t wait for more. I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, muttering a quick, “Thanks,” over my shoulder. I wasn’t about to let her leave without telling her how I really felt—not this time.

I bolted to the Impala, my heart racing as I fired up the engine and gunned it down the road. The tires screeched as I tore out of the parking lot, driving as fast as I could without a second thought. The streets blurred past me, and all I could think about was getting to the bus station before it was too late.

When I finally pulled up, my eyes scanned the crowd frantically. And then I saw her—sitting on a bench, her bag beside her, looking lost in thought. Relief washed over me for a split second, but it was quickly replaced by panic as the PA system blared: “Bus 94 to Los Angeles is now boarding.”

My heart stopped, and without thinking, I jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. “Y/N!!” I yelled, my voice cutting through the noise of the station as I ran toward her. I weaved through the crowd, dodging people and their luggage, desperate to reach her before she disappeared onto that bus.

“Y/N!!” I called again, louder this time, my voice raw with urgency. She looked up, startled, her eyes locking on mine just as I closed the distance between us.

Reader’s POV

I sat on the bench, my headphones on, letting Taylor Swift’s voice drown out the noise around me. My heart felt heavy, but I kept reminding myself this was for the best. It had to be.

The PA system blared overhead: “Bus 94 to Los Angeles is now boarding.”

I let out a shaky breath and got up, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. With hesitant steps, I made my way toward the line forming in front of the bus. Each step felt harder than the last, but I forced myself to keep moving.

As I got closer to the front of the line, I heard my name being called faintly in the background.

“Y/N!”

It sounded like… Dean. My heart skipped, but I shook my head. No. There’s no way. My mind’s just playing tricks on me.

Then I heard it again, louder this time: “Y/N!”

I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Slowly, I turned around, and there he was. Dean. Running toward me, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t tell if it was from shock, confusion, or the way his presence always seemed to throw me off balance.

I stood in place, unable to move as he got closer. He finally stopped in front of me, slightly out of breath but looking more determined than I’d ever seen him.

“Dean??” I finally managed to say, my voice shaking slightly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you leave,” Dean said, his voice low and filled with regret. “Not like this. I… I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest, but I shook my head, the pain still fresh. “No, Dean. You don’t get to apologize now. It’s too late. I’ve already made up my mind—I’m going home, where I belong.”

I tried to step past him, but his hand shot out, gently grabbing my wrist. His touch stopped me in my tracks.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

“Why, Dean?” I asked, my voice rising with frustration. “Why does it matter to you whether I stay or leave? You’ve made it pretty clear—you don’t think I belong here. You don’t want me here.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his grip tightening slightly, as if he was afraid to let go.

“Then why?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching as he seemed to wrestle with the words. “Because…” he started, but the rest of his sentence hung in the air.

“Because what, Dean?” I pressed, my chest heaving with emotion. “Just say it already!”

And before I could say another word, he silenced me in the most unexpected way—by closing the distance between us and pressing his lips to mine.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if I’d pull away. But the moment our lips touched, it felt like the air around us shifted, the tension melting away into something entirely different. My heart raced, and every ounce of anger and hurt seemed to vanish, replaced by something I couldn’t even begin to describe.

I froze, my mind blank, my body refusing to move as his lips pressed against mine. But then, almost instinctively, I let my bag slip off my shoulder and hit the ground. My hands found their way to the collar of his jacket, gripping it tightly as I leaned in, deepening the kiss.

The world around us disappeared, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. But then he pulled away, his forehead resting lightly against mine as he caught his breath.

“That’s why,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m in love with you. I’ve been a complete jerk to you because I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought pushing you away would make it easier… but all it did was hurt you. And I’m sorry for that. I’m so damn sorry.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, the weight of his words sinking in. Finally, I managed to find my voice, shaky but certain.

“Dean… you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “All this time, all these fights, I just wanted you to see me differently. To see me as more than just someone who gets on your nerves. It’s as simple as a change of heart…”

He cupped my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing gently against my cheeks. “Sweetheart, you’ve always been more than that to me. I was just too stupid—and scared—to admit it.”

I let out a shaky laugh, my eyes welling with tears—not from sadness this time, but from relief, from joy. “You’re still kind of stupid,” I teased softly, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Maybe,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “But I know one thing—I don’t want you to go. Stay. Stay with me, please. We’re better together, Y/N.”

I swallowed hard, my hands still clutching his jacket. “Dean… I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with something I’d never seen before—hope. “Then let’s figure it out. Together.”

I nodded, my heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “Together,” I whispered before pulling him into another kiss, this time without hesitation.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll really didn’t think I wasn’t gonna make Dean go after her did you?? 😏🤭 also let me know if I should write more parts to this story! Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

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@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 / @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy / @suckitands33 / @spnaquakindgdom

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[deans-queen]

[deans-queen]

Change of Heart 💚

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Dean and Y/N are hunters who do not get along. Fed up with their constant bickering, Sam forces them to stay in the same motel room for the night, to learn getting along with each other.

Warnings: language, smut, enemies to lovers, angst. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "Whats your problem with me?" square for @jacklesversebingo (This is also an enemies to lovers fic.)

Reader's POV

Sam, Dean, and I have been hunting together for a couple of months now. I only joined because I’ve been friends with Sam since college. Sam and I get along great; however, it’s his older brother, Dean, I can’t stand. He’s hot-headed, arrogant, stubborn, a know-it-all, and thinks he’s God’s gift to women… which, I can’t say I disagree with. Despite hating him so damn much, I’m also completely in love with him. But come on… how could I not be? He’s tall, handsome as hell, and he’s so bad but he does it so well. He has the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. God, how can one person be so infuriating and infatuating at the same damn time?? I can’t show my true feelings for him because, for whatever reason, he hates me. He’s been treating me like crap since the first day we met, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I said or did to make him hate me so much, and it’s so goddamn frustrating.

After another  grueling and exhausting hunt, we decided to stay at a motel for the night. Dean and I had been arguing, as usual, about something completely trivial. Sam rubbed his head as we got out of the Impala, clearly fed up with our constant bickering.

“Dean, you are so damn hard headed!” I shouted, slamming the car door behind me.

“I’m hard headed?” he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. “You’re the one who has to be so damn annoying.” He got out of the car, slamming the door.

“Oh please, I’m annoying?” I rolled my eyes at him. “I could go on and on about how you’re just such a walk in the park,” I added with heavy sarcasm. He’s such a big baby, always complaining about every little thing.

Before Dean could make another smart-ass comment, Sam cut in, shouting, “That is enough!”

We both look at Sam and stay silent. 

“Honestly, I’m done with you two,” Sam said, his voice tight with frustration. “All this constant bickering and fighting—it’s out of control. Every damn day.”

He glanced between Dean and me, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if trying to rub away a headache we’d caused. It was pretty clear that he’d reached his limit with us, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

“But he—” I started to protest.

“Ah-ah, Y/N. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dean just stood there, smirking like he found the whole situation hilarious, which only seemed to make Sam angrier.

“Dude, cut it out,” Sam snapped, shooting Dean a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Dean glared right back. “Sam, don’t you—”

“I’m serious, Dean. Knock. It. The. Hell. Off.” He said, sternly. 

That shut him up real quick.

Sam sighed, his expression softening just a bit. “Now, listen,” he continued, scolding us like a pair of unruly kids. “We’re a team—a family. If we want this to work, we need to figure out how to get along.”

Dean and I exchanged a glance, both of us finally quiet. Deep down, we knew Sam was right. All this constant fighting wasn’t doing anyone any favors, especially with the pressure of this case hanging over us.

Sam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go get us our rooms. Think you two can manage to stay here and not tear each other apart while I’m gone?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “We’ll try to behave…no promises, though.”

I gave Sam a reassuring nod. “We’ll be fine. Promise.”

He shot us a warning look, as if daring us to test his patience one more time, then headed toward the front desk.

We stayed silent, the tension still lingering but softened in the quiet. I leaned back against the hood of the Impala, my arms crossed as I stared up at the fading evening sky. Dean stood by the driver’s side door, hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.

Neither of us said a word, but there was an unspoken truce between us, a silent agreement to keep things calm—at least for now. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the occasional crunch of gravel under Sam’s boots as he made his way back to us.

Sam approached us, two room keys dangling from his fingers, his expression a mix of caution and annoyance.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” he began. “You’re not gonna like this, but the place is fully booked. I could only get two rooms.” His gaze shifted between Dean and me, almost apologetic. “Which means… you two are gonna have to share.”

I glanced at Dean, who raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk threatening to break through. “Great,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Just what I always wanted.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Yeah, well, let’s just get through this without another argument.”

Sam sighed, handing us the key. “Please, just try not to kill each other before morning.” He walked off toward his own room, leaving Dean and me to figure out how we were going to survive the night under the same roof.

Dean snatched the key from Sam’s hand, shooting him a hard look. Without another word, he turned and started walking toward the rooms. As soon as he was out of earshot, I grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him aside.

“Sam, this is never gonna work!” I whispered urgently, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dean wasn’t listening. “He hates me…”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t hate you, Y/N. He’s just… Dean. You know how he is. He acts tough, but he doesn’t mean half of what he says.”

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. “No, Sam. He really hates me. Every time I say or do anything, he has some smart-ass comment or looks at me like I’m the most annoying person on the planet.”

Sam placed a hand on my shoulder, his tone softening. “Look, I know it feels that way, but trust me, he doesn’t hate you. If anything…” He trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes.

“What?” I pressed.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Just… try to make it through the night without killing each other. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

I frowned, unconvinced, but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if he starts something, it’s on him.”

Sam chuckled and patted my shoulder before heading to his room. “Good luck.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and gather my thoughts. With Sam’s words still rattling in my mind, I turned and headed toward Dean, who was unlocking the door to our room.

As I approached, I stepped forward, intending to walk in first, but Dean, being Dean, cut me off and stepped inside ahead of me without a word. Typical.

He crossed the room and immediately claimed the bed closest to the door, dropping his bag onto the floor beside it with a sense of finality. I made my way to the other bed, setting my bag down a little more gently, though my movements were tense. The air between us felt heavy, loaded with unspoken irritation.

I sat on the edge of my bed, glancing briefly at him as he rifled through his duffel. For a moment, I considered saying something—anything—to break the silence. But then again, maybe silence wasn’t the worst thing right now.

Silently, I placed my duffle bag on the second bed, feeling Dean’s gaze boring into me without even needing to look. That intense, unmistakable glare. I ignored it, knowing exactly why he was pissed—Sam’s brilliant idea of forcing us to share a room, hoping it might miraculously make us get along. As if that was going to happen.

With a sigh, I sat on the edge of the bed before flopping back, covering my face with my hands. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and I didn’t know how much more of it I could handle.

Was all of this stress—this endless back and forth with Dean—really worth it? The way he drove me crazy with his sharp comments and that cocky smirk? Was it worth the fact that, deep down, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling something for him? A crush that, no matter how much I tried, wouldn’t go away.

I let out another sigh, trying to shove the thought from my mind. It didn’t matter how I felt about him. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of guy to care about things like that—or someone like me.

Dean’s sharp eyes followed me as I sat down, his glare practically burning into me. When I leaned back and covered my face with my hands, he let out an annoyed scoff, the sound cutting through the thick silence in the room. Without a word, he tossed his bag down and flopped onto his own bed, the frame creaking slightly under his weight.

The tension hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he kept his gaze locked on me.

After a moment, he broke the silence, his voice low but edged with impatience. “So… you planning to sit there hiding under your hands all night, or are you gonna say something?”

I sat up slowly, letting my hands drop into my lap, my heart pounding as I finally locked eyes with him. His gaze was sharp, challenging, but I didn’t back down. My voice wavered at first, but the frustration bubbling inside me gave it an edge.

“What do you want from me, Dean?” I asked, my tone trembling but steady enough to hold its ground. “Because it feels like no matter what I do, no matter what I say, it’s never good enough for you. I’m tired of walking on eggshells. So, just tell me—what the hell do you want? Seriously, what’s your problem with me??”

The silence between us was deafening, the words hanging heavy in the air like thunderclouds on the verge of breaking. My chest tightened, the weight of all the unsaid things between us pressing down hard, making it hard to breathe.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought he might snap back, throw one of his usual sarcastic jabs my way. But instead, he just stared at me, his expression shifting slightly, as though he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to say out loud. The storm wasn’t just between us anymore—it was inside him too.

Dean shifted, propping himself up on his elbow, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. The intensity in his gaze made my heart skip, though I refused to look away. For a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable, before letting out a scoff that was equal parts exasperation and something else.

“You wanna know what I want?” he asked, his voice rough, almost biting. “I want you to stop being such a damn pain in the ass. You never listen, you’ve always gotta have the last word, and you’re stubborn as hell. And—” he paused, his jaw tightening, “—you’re… goddamn annoying.”

His words stung, but it wasn’t just the frustration in his voice that caught me off guard. There was something else underneath it, buried just deep enough that it wasn’t easy to place. Something raw, something unspoken that made my breath hitch despite myself.

I glared at him, my chest tightening as his words hit me like a slap. My heart pounded in my ears, but I wasn’t about to let him have the last word—not this time.

“Oh, and like you’re such a walk in the park, Dean?” I snapped, my voice sharp as I sat up straighter, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’re bossy, short-tempered, and half the time, you don’t even bother to explain what the hell is going on! So maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t be such a ‘pain in the ass’ if you weren’t so damn impossible to deal with!”

The words spilled out before I could stop them, but I didn’t care. My chest heaved with anger, and the silence that followed was deafening, charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward slightly. “You think I’m impossible to deal with?” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Newsflash, sweetheart—I’m not the one who flies off the handle every five seconds.”

His words were laced with frustration, but his tone had shifted. The air between us felt electric, like a storm about to break. Beneath the anger, there was something else—a spark, a tension that neither of us could ignore. My heart raced, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the argument or the way Dean’s gaze seemed to burn straight through me.

“Because you never listen to anything I have to say, Dean!” I shot back, stepping toward him, my anger flaring to match his. “It’s like you don’t care—like nothing I say ever matters to you!”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my voice shaking as frustration bubbled over. “And you know what? I’m only here because Sam is my friend, and he asked me to help with this case. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here, putting up with your crap. I don’t deserve to be treated like this, Dean!”

I glared up at him, my chest heaving as the words poured out, sharp and cutting. We stood toe-to-toe, the space between us charged with an almost unbearable tension. His eyes flashed, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t move back, didn’t even flinch.

Dean clenched his jaw so tightly I could see the muscle in his cheek twitch, his fists balled at his sides. His glare was sharp enough to cut, and it bore down on me with the full force of his frustration.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, his voice low and venomous, “I don’t want you here. I’ve had to deal with your attitude for weeks, and I’m done. I never wanted you on this case—you’re a liability. But Sam, as usual, had to have his way, and I didn’t have a choice.”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy on the floor, until he was right in front of me, his chest nearly brushing mine. His eyes blazed with fury, but underneath it, there was something else. Something darker, something dangerous.

The air between us crackled, and I felt my breath hitch as his presence loomed over me. My heart raced, a mix of anger, defiance, and something I wasn’t ready to name. I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to back down even as his intensity pressed against me like a storm about to break.

“Wow, Dean. You might as well just stick a knife in my heart—it’d hurt less,” I said, my voice trembling under the weight of sadness.

I could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, my throat tightening as I fought to keep them at bay. The anger that had been fueling me moments ago was gone, replaced by a hollow ache that I couldn’t hide.

Dean froze, your words landing like a punch to his gut. He’d said it to get a rise out of you, to make his point—but hearing the raw pain in your voice and seeing the tears welling in your eyes? That was something he hadn’t expected, something he didn’t know how to deal with.

His expression softened, the usual hard edge in his eyes fading as he took a small step back. He stood there for a moment, staring down at you, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“Wait… Y/N, I didn’t mean it,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d heard in a long time. He looked away, avoiding your gaze, as if meeting your eyes would make the guilt he was feeling all the more real.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your own shaky breaths, the storm between you shifting into something calmer but no less charged.

“You know what… just forget it, okay?” I said, forcing a nervous laugh that did little to mask the crack in my voice. I kept my eyes fixed on my duffle bag, my hands shaking as I grabbed it. I couldn’t look at him—not now.

“You’re right. I don’t belong here,” I added, my voice quieter this time, as if admitting it out loud made it sting even more.

I slung the bag over my shoulder, swallowing hard, willing myself not to cry. “Maybe I should just go back home to California… where I do belong,” I continued, the slight waver in my voice betraying me despite my best efforts to sound strong.

Dean didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching as I turned toward the door. My legs felt heavy, my heart even heavier, but I was determined to leave before I completely broke down. I refused to let him see just how much this hurt. And with that, I walked out the door, refusing to look back.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧...

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 🤍

I’m backkkkkkk!!! I’m so so sorry for being MIA it’s been a lot for me the past month but I am back and I am more ready then ever to put out more stories for you!

I hope you enjoyed this one!! It’s going to be 2 parts — so there is more to come! I love you all so much and thank you for being so patient with me 🫶🏻🫶🏻 Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

Master list 📋

Bingo Masterlist 💚

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy

[deans-queen]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Hi everyone! I apologize for not being active, I am still continuing to work on my new story "Change of Heart" I'll try to upload it this week or next week. Things have been very crazy — on top of me being busy with both going to school and work working full time; I got sick which was not fun at all. I promise I have not forgotten about you all, it's just been a lot for me. I was also having doubts about my writing which I'm sure happens to the best of us. I was getting writers block and I couldn't gather my thoughts from my head to paper.

Anyways, I love you all so much and I will be back!!

P.S. feel free to message me anytime

- 𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

[deans-queen]

Another quick update —

I’m gonna do my best to continue working on my new story and post it for you guys! I promise it will be worth it 🫶🏻

Love you all ♥️

𝙷𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎!!!

I apologize for not posting, I’ve been busy this past week BUT i am currently working on my new story Change of Heart for the bingo challenge — it might be a mini series I’m not sure yet - still seeing how it goes!

I appreciate you all being patient with me !

Much love,

𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

[deans-queen]

𝙷𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎!!!

I apologize for not posting, I’ve been busy this past week BUT i am currently working on my new story Change of Heart for the bingo challenge — it might be a mini series I’m not sure yet - still seeing how it goes!

I appreciate you all being patient with me !

Much love,

𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

[deans-queen]

honestly same

i need him like i need air

[deans-queen]

Jensen Ackles as Russell Shaw Tracker (2024) | 2.02 – “Ontological Shock”

[deans-queen]

dean in 1.04 phantom traveler

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮!!!

Just checked my followers and I realized I made it to over 300!!! Yall…. I am so grateful! 😭😭 Thank you for all those who love/reblog/ and comment on my stories! I never thought that this account would even make it past 100 followers but you all have went above and beyond 💚

A few shoutouts to @jackles010378 , @whimsyfinny , @deanwinchestersgirl8734 , and @zepskies and many many more who have been so supportive! I can’t thank you all enough!

I love you all so so much! Xoxo 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

-Tianna

[deans-queen]

𝐂𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader (Y/N)

Summary: Reader meets Dean at Roadhouse and challenges him to a game of pool, with an interesting bet.

Warnings: sexual themes/tension (it gets a bit smutty but thats no surprise from me at this point 😜) , language, alcohol use.

Pre AN: this fills the Pool/Billiards square for my @jacklesversebingo card!

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

It’s Saturday night at the Roadhouse. The air is buzzing with chatter, the clinking of glasses, music playing from the jukebox, and the occasional crack of pool balls. I used to play a lot when I was a kid and I loved it, but it's been forever since I last picked up a cue. 

I walk toward the bar and take a seat on the wooden stool. Ellen – the owner of the place – turns around and greets me with a smile. 

“Hey sweetie, what will it be?” she asks me as she grabs a glass. 

“Oh, hey Ellen! Just the usual – whisky on the rocks.”

“You got it,” she says with a wink. 

As Ellen gets my drink, I glance around the bar. People fill the booths and tables, chatting with each other. A few are out on the dance floor, swaying to the music, while others are casually playing pool. My eyes drift to one of the pool tables, and that's when I notice him. Tall, muscular but not overly so, with brown hair, and wearing a worn brown leather jacket. He’s talking to someone, a much taller guy with longer hair. I can’t help but wonder who they are  – especially the one in the leather jacket. 

Ellen serves me my drink, and I can't help but ask, “Hey Ellen, who are they?” I nod towards them, while casually taking a sip. 

She looks up and sees who I am talking about. 

“Oh, those two?” She asks, while nodding towards them. “They’re family friends of mine, Sam and Dean Winchester.

“And what’s up with them?” I ask casually. 

Ellen hands me my drink, and as I take a sip, the smooth burn of the whisky goes down my throat. I can’t help but let my gaze wander back to the two men by the pool table, especially the one in the leather jacket. There’s something about him — that makes me curious.

“They’re brothers,” Ellen says, bringing my attention back to her. “Been through a lot, those two.” She wipes down the bar as she continues, “Sam - the tall one — he’s the youngest. Smart as a whip,  he’s a big softy. And Dean — the one wearing the leather jacket, he’s the oldest. Bit rough around the edges but good hearted. They’re hunters, ya know. They fight things most people don’t believe exist. 

Hunters. Now that’s something I didn’t expect to hear. 

“Like ghosts and monsters and all that?” I ask curiously. 

Ellen nods, pouring herself a drink. “Exactly, it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Those two are the best hunters around.” 

My eyes drift back to Dean. He leans over the pool table, lining up his shot with precision. I can’t help but admire the way he focuses. As if he can sense my gaze, his eyes — sharp, green, and full of intensity — flicker up to meet mine for a split second. My breath hitches, it’s like he can see right through me. He leans in closer to the table and it’s hard to focus on anything else but the way his lips quirk up into a cocky ass smirk right before he does the break. 

As the balls scatter across the table I bite my lip, unable to tear my gaze away from him. His eyes are still on mine, amusement twinkling as if he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me. 

Ellen’s voice snaps me out of my intense thoughts. “You okay?” 

“Yeah…” I reply, a little too quietly averting my gaze. “I’m fine.” 

But I know deep down I’m not. My mind’s racing with thoughts I shouldn’t be having about a guy I just met — or rather haven’t met yet. 

“Enjoying the view sweetheart?” Dean's voice was blunt with a teasing edge to it as he straightened himself up, clearly pleased with himself. 

I don’t know if it’s the whisky or the sexual tension between us, but I’m feeling very bold tonight. The boldness surges through me, and before I can second guess myself, I find my feet carrying me toward the pool table. Sam is focused on his next shot, but Dean’s eyes are locked on me the entire time, his lips curled into that cocky smirk that’s been driving me wild since the moment our eyes met.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna stand there staring, or you here to play?” Dean’s voice is low, teasing, and I can feel the challenge in it.

I raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Maybe I am here to play,” I reply, letting a bit of sass slip into my tone.

Dean chuckles, leaning back against the edge of the pool table, his eyes scanning me up and down, clearly intrigued. “You any good?”

“I used to be,” I admit with a shrug. “Wanna find out?”

Sam glances between us, shaking his head with a grin before stepping away from the table. “I’ll leave you two to it. Dean can use a good challenge.”

“Good luck, man,” he adds with a knowing smirk before heading toward the bar, leaving just me and Dean at the table.

Dean watches me for a moment before stepping around the table to grab a cue. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s make this interesting. How about a little wager?”

I raise an eyebrow, curious. “What kind of wager?”

Dean’s eyes darken with mischief as he hands me a cue. He steps in close, his body heat radiating off him as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “Loser has to kiss the winner.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, my heart racing in response. I swallow, trying to maintain my composure, but the heat between us is undeniable. I glance up at him, meeting his intense green eyes.

“Deal,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “But don’t be upset when you lose.”

Dean chuckles, pulling back slightly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.”

We set up the game, the tension between us thickening with every glance, every small touch as we move around the table. I take the first shot, breaking the balls with a satisfying crack. Dean watches me closely, his gaze burning into me, but I focus on the game, determined not to let him get in my head.

The game goes on, each shot bringing us closer, both of us playing to win, but there’s something else simmering beneath the surface, a fire that’s growing with every passing moment. I line up my final shot, feeling Dean’s eyes on me the whole time. The cue ball hits the corner pocket, sinking the last ball perfectly.

Dean’s smirk falters for the first time, and I can’t help the triumphant grin that spreads across my face.

“Well, would you look at that,” I say, setting the cue down and stepping toward him. “I won.”

Dean straightens up, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there’s amusement dancing in them. He takes a step closer, closing the space between us, his body heat wrapping around me like a blanket.

“Looks like I owe you something, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “But I don’t mind losing to you.”

Before I can respond, his hand gently grips my chin, tilting my face up toward his. His lips crash into mine, firm and demanding, stealing my breath away. The kiss is intense, and I melt into it, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath the leather jacket. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer, until there’s no space left between us.

Dean deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing mine, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me. His grip tightens slightly, possessive, and I’m drowning in the feel of him, the taste of him. It’s like he’s claiming me, and I’m more than willing to be claimed.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other. Dean’s eyes are dark with lust, his smirk back in full force.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice husky. “You kiss even better than I imagined.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, feeling a little lightheaded from the intensity of the moment. “Careful, Dean. I might make you lose more often.”

Dean leans in again, his lips brushing against mine as he murmurs, “I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s lips find mine again, slower this time, more deliberate, savoring the taste of me like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. His hands roam over my body, his grip firm yet tender, pulling me even closer. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my hands as I run them over his chest, his muscles tense beneath the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in it, my body pressing into his, heat building between us until I can barely think straight.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is warm against my lips, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes. “How about we take this somewhere more private?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

I bite my lip, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “Yeah… I think that’s a good idea,” I manage, my voice breathless from the intensity of the kiss.

He grabs my hand, and without another word, we head outside. The cool night air hits me, but it does nothing to cool the fire raging inside me. My heart races as he leads me to the his beautiful car — a 1967 Chevy Impala; parked under the dim light of a streetlamp. There’s something thrilling about it— something intimate, yet wild. He opens the back door for me, and I slide in, my body humming with anticipation. Dean follows quickly, closing the door behind him, sealing us inside.

The moment we’re alone, the tension between us snaps like a rubber band stretched too tight. His hands are on me, his lips crashing into mine with a raw hunger that sends sparks through my entire body. I gasp against his mouth, my fingers tugging at his leather jacket, desperate to feel him, to touch the warm skin underneath.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathes, his voice rough as his hands slide up my shirt, lifting it over my head. He pauses, his eyes dark with desire as they roam over me, taking me in. His gaze is so intense that it makes me shiver.

"Not so bad yourself," I reply, a teasing edge in my voice, though I can barely keep it steady. The way he looks at me makes it hard to think straight.

Dean smirks, leaning in close, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I bet I can make you say more than that."

I open my mouth to respond, but his hands are already on my waist, pulling me down onto his lap, and any coherent thought slips away. I can feel every inch of him, hard and ready beneath me, and it makes my breath hitch. His lips press against my collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin just enough to make me moan softly.

"You think you’re in charge, Winchester?" I manage to tease, even as my body melts into his touch.

Dean’s low chuckle vibrates against my skin. "Sweetheart, I think we both know who's in control here."

His hands move to my jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease, and I arch into him as he pulls them down. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and I can’t help but bite my lip as his fingers skim over the sensitive skin of my thighs.

"You're killing me, Dean," I whisper, my voice shaky with need.

His eyes flash with something dark, something primal, as he leans in to kiss me again, his hands gripping my hips with a possessive edge. "Trust me, sweetheart. This is just the beginning."

I groan softly as he pulls me down onto him, the sensation overwhelming as he fills me completely. The feeling of him inside me is perfect, and I can't help but rock my hips against him, needing more, wanting more. His hands grip my waist tighter, guiding me as I move, the rhythm between us building quickly.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Dean growls, his voice low and ragged. He thrusts up into me, harder, deeper, and I gasp, gripping his shoulders to steady myself as the pleasure builds with every movement. The car rocks slightly with the intensity of it, the small space only amplifying the heat between us.

I bite my lip, my nails digging into his skin as I ride him, my body moving instinctively, driven by pure need. "Dean… I–" My voice breaks as a moan escapes me, my head tipping back as he thrusts harder.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "Let go. I wanna hear you scream my name."

His dirty talk, the rough edge to his voice, sends me over the edge. My body tightens around him as the orgasm crashes through me, and I cry out, my hands clutching him tightly as I lose myself in the overwhelming pleasure. Dean follows me moments later, groaning my name as he spills into me, his hands gripping my hips like I’m the only thing holding him to this earth.

For a moment, we’re both breathing hard, our bodies tangled together, the tension between us finally spent. I collapse against him, resting my forehead against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my skin. His fingers trail up and down my back in slow, soothing strokes, grounding me after the whirlwind of passion.

After a long moment, Dean tilts my chin up, his green eyes softer now but still intense as they lock onto mine. There’s something different in his gaze, something deeper, as if he’s searching for the right words. His thumb brushes against my lip, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen.

“I gotta ask you something, sweetheart,” he says quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

I look up at him, my heart pounding for a different reason now. “What is it?” I ask, though there’s a part of me that already knows this is something big.

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching mine, and then he finally speaks, his voice low and almost vulnerable. “Stay with me. This… us… it feels right. I don’t want this to be just one night.”

His words hit me like a wave, warm and unexpected. For a second, I can’t find the right response, overwhelmed by the raw honesty in his voice. But then a smile tugs at my lips, and I lean in to kiss him, slow and sweet, pouring everything I feel into that kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean,” I whisper against his lips when we finally pull apart. “I’m all in.”

Dean smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes my heart skip a beat. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Hope you enjoyed this story! I’m sorry if the smut is REAL but I can’t help it — but you guys know me by now I’m gonna put smut in my stories! anyways, this one was really fun to do! And the gif — PERFECT TOUCH 🥵🥵🔥

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