supernotnatural2005

[supernotnatural2005]

omfg I didn't know you followed me back thank you!! Also do you take requests?

Haha it’s no worries ☺️ And sure! Request away! i’ve had a bit of brain fog lately, maybe it’ll reawaken my muse lol

[supernotnatural2005]

Same here 😭 i am so glad you enjoyed it lovely 🤗💕

An Anniversary to Remember

Paring: Jensen x Reader

Summary: After a gruelling day of travel and a series of frustrating delays, Jensen finally returns home to you. Though at what cost? There is an hour left of your first anniversary as a married couple. However, once inside, Jensen is quickly reminded that, despite the hurdles, love always finds a way to make up for lost time.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+ ONLY), Swearing, fluff, husband!Jensen - Yes PLEASE!!! 😩

AN: So this had been in the works for a little while. Finally got around to finishing it. Just a little Husband!Jensen fantasy for ya and an excuse to write some filth, sue me 😅. Also no hate to his family. This is just purely fiction.

Main Masterlist

When Jensen pulled up to his home, it was late—much later than he’d wanted to return.

He exited the Uber with a quiet thanks, his suitcase in hand, and his heart heavy with disappointment. The house was dark, and he knew what that meant—you had probably fallen asleep. Guilt twisted in his stomach, despite knowing it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

His flight had been delayed by four hours, and he’d tried to remind himself that these things happened, that he’d rather get home in one piece than not at all. But it didn’t make him feel any better. 

This was your first anniversary as a married couple, and he’d spent most of it on a plane, feeling like the world was conspiring against him.

You’d been teasing him all day with sweet messages and playful hints about a surprise you had planned for him. You’d said you missed him, and as much as he hated being apart from you, your words had made the hours drag even more. 

Every text had left him more desperate to get back home to you. He hadn’t expected the universe to throw him one last delay, making the clock tick closer to midnight, the anniversary slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t your fault, he repeated in his head. It didn’t help the knot of frustration that twisted in his chest, though. A part of him wanted to stew in his irritation for the rest of the night. The entire day had felt like a mess, and here he was, at the doorstep of his home, with an hour left of the day that marked an incredible milestone of your relationship.

He stepped inside quietly, careful not to wake you. You hadn’t texted him since he’d landed about an hour ago, another painful reminder of how late it was. The house was dark and silent, as opposed to the ticking of the analogue clock hanging on the wall in the foyer.

Flipping on the downstairs light, he placed his suitcase by the door with a sigh and then toed off his shoes, deciding to deal with the mess of the day tomorrow. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, something caught his eye—something that made his heart race with both confusion and a spark of hope.

A trail of tea-light candles flickered on each step, casting warm pools of light against the wood, leading up the stairs. Between the candles were scattered rose petals, their deep red hues contrasting beautifully against the dark wood. 

Jensen’s brows furrowed in surprise. Could you still be awake? Or had you set all of this up and fallen asleep waiting for him?

If you were asleep, he was going to have to seriously grill you about fire safety—he could already imagine you leaving the candles burning in a half-dream state, only to wake up and find half the house had burnt down.

He couldn’t resist. A smile tugged at his lips as he followed the trail, carefully stepping over the rose petals as to not slip on them with his socked feet. His heart thudded in his chest, hope flickering again as he reached the top of the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, a soft, warm light spilling out from the gap. The unmistakable scent of roses filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of you��the soft vanilla scent of your lotion, the warmth of your perfume.

His concern shifted to worry again as he reached the door. What if you’d passed out with the candles still lit, too exhausted from waiting for him? What if he’d walked into a disaster? He pushed open the door gently, a wave of surprise washing over him when he saw the room.

It looked like something out of a dream.

The bed was framed by delicate fairy lights strung around the headboard, and more rose petals were scattered across the white sheets in a beautiful pattern. The soft glow of the candles reflected off everything, casting the room in a gentle golden light. And there you were, kneeling in the centre of the bed, looking every bit like the angel he’d married.

You wore a luxurious black silk robe, the fabric gliding over your skin, and it was tied loosely at the waist, leaving just enough to tease the red lace underneath. Your hair was styled softly, a few tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was subtle but somehow accentuated every beautiful feature.

Jensen was at a complete loss for words. You looked… breathtaking. No, more than that. You looked like something ethereal, something he didn’t deserve but was lucky enough to have. His heart skipped in his chest, and the earlier irritation melted away, replaced by a profound sense of love and gratitude.

“Y/N… I… wow,” he stammered, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes swept over you and the room. His gaze bounced from your glowing skin to the fairy lights around the bed, the petals scattered so carefully on the sheets. 

He took it all in, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “I didn’t think—I—I can’t believe you did all of this.”

You smiled softly at his bafflement, your eyes filled with affection as you held his gaze, looking at him like he hung the stars.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you whispered, your voice low, sensual—like it was meant only for him. The words made his chest tighten with emotion, and he swallowed hard, his hands shaking just slightly as he stepped toward you. 

The exhaustion from the past two weeks of travel was weighing heavily on him, but the sight of you, so beautifully waiting for him, made him forget it all. You shuffled on your knees to meet him halfway, your soft silk robe brushing against your skin as you closed the distance.

"I thought you’d never make it," you teased gently, your hands sliding up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, sending warmth through his body. “You’re always so late, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stood in front of you. The height of the bed and you kneeling on it, allowing you to be at eye level with him. 

"I’m so sorry, baby," he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I hate that I missed today. I wanted to be here for you—especially tonight."

“You’re here now,” you said with a soft smile, a look of understanding and love in your eyes. “And that’s all that matters.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing you, soft at first, almost reverently, savouring the feel of you against him after the long, gruelling day. His lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss, as if he was making up for every minute he’d missed.

When he pulled back, he just looked at you—looked at how you’d made this night so special despite the chaos of the day. And it hit him all at once: how lucky he was, how much he loved you.

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding around his neck, and in a low voice, you whispered, "Well, you may have been late, but I think you’ll more than make up for it."

Jensen chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "Trust me, I intend to."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, making good on his promise for the lost hours, the missed days. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours, as if this was the first time in years he’d been able to touch you like this.

You melted at his touch, his mouth, his careful but purposeful hands as they glided over the lines and dips and curves of your body. He touched you and kissed you with such familiarity, like your body was a well-revised map and he knew just the right spots before he got to his destination. 

You sighed as his lips strayed away from yours, now beginning their descent, starting with your jaw down towards your neck. His first stop, the little sensitive patch of skin he’d discovered behind your ear, just below your jaw. Your pitiful moans of pleasure as he latched on, sucking, nipping, and lapping until your breaths were harsh and short, filled him with pride. 

An impatient tug of his hair brought not only a spark of pleasure but also gave him the incentive to continue his journey. His lips passed over your collarbones, only a brief acknowledgement needed before he made it to the first landmark. However, he had an obstacle in his path, one that he needed removed in order to see the twin peaks in all their glory. 

The inside pun had Jensen smirking briefly.

He pulled away from you, the heat in your gaze keeping him warm as he made work on the first part of the barricade. His hands reached up and glided over your smooth skin, slowly guiding the silk robe off of your shoulders and down your arms. He watched intensely as goosebumps arose on your newly exposed skin and the sheer red lace barely contained your heaving breasts. 

God, you were beautiful.

He could see the dark outline of your nipples poking through the fabric, tormenting him, practically begging him to take a bite, and so he did. He leaned down, closing his mouth around the hardened nub, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh. Your gasp of surprise, which quickly melted into a low moan, spurred him on until he had enough of the fabric barrier and roughly tore the cup down, exposing your tit, desperate to taste your bare skin. 

“Oh God.” You sighed and clung to him blindly as he assaulted your chest with his delectable mouth. With every sweep of his tongue, graze of his teeth, and, white-hot shocks of pleasure, shot straight to your core. And before you knew it, the item of clothing was expertly unclasped and pulled from your body, leaving your tits bare and for the taking. 

Jensen took the moment to admire the sight. His eyes trailed between the smooth valley to the ruby-red peaks, pointed, sharp, and tempting. He bit back a groan as his large hands cupped each breast, relishing in their weight and massaging them in his palms in continued amazement. 

“Holy fuck, I’ve missed these.” Jensen wonders aloud, and you can’t help your giggle, though breathy at his delightful ministrations. He leans down once more to place a longing kiss on each tit before ascending back to your lips once more. 

You pull him onto the bed with you as he encourages you to lie down, his body moving to hover over yours, blanketing you in his weight and warmth as he kisses you breathless.

Shifting his weight to your side, do you then feel his hand travel from your cheek, stopping shortly to grope your chest before dipping further down until the tips of his fingers breach your panty line? 

Your hips rise on their own accord at feeling, desperate for him to just slip inside and relieve some of the pressure, and he smirks against your lips. 

“Please, baby, no more teasing.” You plead, sensing the look on his face and where his mind was drifting. He concedes, however, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, he still had 30 minutes left of your anniversary to make up to you. 

“I gotcha, baby.” He husks against your lips, pecking them once before he fully removes himself. You keen at the loss, but excitement fills you as he stands to remove his shirt and jeans. You can’t help but clamp your thighs shut at the impressive tent bobbing in his boxers with his movements. Your pussy throbs at the sight and memory of him. 

He climbs back onto the bed, but this time settles between your legs. With a heated gaze, he pulls the last piece of clothing from your body, and you help him by lifting your legs as he guides the dampened cloth up and off. 

His eyes darken at the obvious wet patch on the crotch area. “Fuck. You’ve ruined them, darlin’.” He groans low in his throat as his thumb sweeps across your mess. You bite your lip, 25% embarrassed and 75% turned the fuck on. 

“What? I’ve missed my husband.” You defend coyly and watch his eyes darken at your words, his hand becoming a tight fist around the wet lace, as if he was trying to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

Instead he drops the fabric to the floor and gently pries your closed legs open. With his eyes locked on yours, he dips down until he is finally face to face with one of the greatest discoveries he’d ever made. 

You bite your lip as he exposes you, his face so close to your pulsing cunt you can feel his warm breath as he braces himself more comfortably between your thighs. 

“Look at you.” He hums in delight as his eyes roam over the glistening lips of your pussy. He’s painfully hard at this point; even the gentle rut of his hips against the mattress does nothing to elevate the pressure. But none of that matters; he can wait, just like you had to for him. And boy, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a treat in itself. 

With one last appreciative look, he descends, his tongue flicking out to lick up the seam of your sex. The taste of you instantly explodes onto his taste buds, and his eyes flutter shut. Your cry out in pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his cock and tickling his pride, and so he repeats the action again and again and again, until you’re fisting his hair tight in your grasp and gyrating your hips against his face. 

He growls deep in his chest, something primal sparking to life in him at your little whimpers and begging hands. He grips the tops of your thighs tightly, keeping them spread as he divulges himself like a starved man into your sweet pie. 

You gasp, cry, and shout as his mouth brings you to heights only he ever could. He works you over like a fiddle, expertly plucking the strings that pull from you the sweetest-sounding melodies. 

It’s not long at all before you feel the familiar coil pull tight in your lower belly. Perhaps it was his absence, the long nights spent without his touch, the teasing messages and hushed whispers over the phone of all you wished to do to each other in the night. But he had your explosive climax erupt and jostle you to your core in a matter of minutes. Your body convulsing and twitching against his gifted mouth. 

He lapped at everything you dispelled hungrily, simultaneously working you through your descent back down to earth. You panted harshly, your heart beating hard enough to be heard in your ears, and down below you felt his affectionate kiss against your sex, your thighs, your stomach, all the way up your body until you were eagerly pulling his lips to yours. 

You groaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue and pulled him impossibly close, digging your feet into his backside for the sweet press of his clothed cock against your sensitive pussy. His eyes rolled back, and he pulled away from your fervent kiss at the contact. 

With a mischievous smile, you slid your legs high up his sides to get a grip on the waistband of his boxers with your feet, pushing them down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was quick to catch on and, with a smirk of his own, hurriedly kicked the clothing from his legs. 

As he settled above you, your gazes meeting, skin to skin, time seemed to slow down. In that precious moment, everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you. Your heart beat a little faster, not from haste or urgency, but from the depth of what you were sharing—a quiet, intimate kind of togetherness that spoke volumes without words. 

You took the moment to admire him, your husband, tracing the familiar curve of his jaw, the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. A year of marriage had passed in the blink of an eye, but somehow, it felt like a lifetime, woven together with moments like this—small, yet monumental.

You let your mind drift to the path that had brought you here. Of course, there had been challenges, especially when he had to leave for longer stretches of time—those weeks that stretched endlessly, when all you could do was wait, counting down the days until he came home. But even then, you never once questioned your love for him. Every moment apart only made the time together sweeter. Your desire for him, your love, your unwavering commitment never wavered. Because he was more than enough. He always had been.

“God, I love you,” Jensen murmured quietly, his voice rough with emotion, as his hand slid through your hair, tracing the soft lines of your face. His eyes—so full of adoration, so full of everything you needed—met yours, and in that gaze, you saw more than just love. You saw the years of trust, the comfort of knowing each other completely, and the certainty that this was exactly where you both needed to be.

His touch, so tender, was a promise. His words, though simple, were everything. You could feel your heart swell in your chest, so full of him, of this life you'd built together.

"I love you too," you replied, the words easy but carrying the weight of everything you’d felt in the time since you first met him. It wasn't just love—it was gratitude, it was awe, it was certainty. How lucky you were, how incredibly lucky, to love someone as honest, as kind, and as beautiful as him—and to have that love returned, freely and without hesitation.

Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and effortless, as if he could never tire of hearing those words from you. You were his anchor, his lighthouse—bright, sturdy, and always there to guide him home. In the quiet aftermath of your shared confessions, he pressed his forehead gently to yours, the connection between you both solid and real. The weight of the world could have been on his shoulders, but in this moment, with you, he was home.

And with that final thought, his lips found yours once more, slow and steady at first before the simmering fire roared to life. Your kisses became desperate, rough, and dirty, working you up until you were begging for him to fill you, to make you feel whole again.

And so he did. 

You gasped as he finally pressed into you, his blunt cockhead stretching you so deliciously, you forgot how to breathe. He moaned as your tight walls clamped around him, the feeling familiar yet new, for how long it had been, and god, had he missed the feel of you. 

You slid your arms around him, your hands gliding along his toned back, nails biting into his skin as he bottomed out, and he paused, giving you a minute to reaccommodate to his size. Your panted breaths combined in the small space between you, and it wasn’t long before you were begging him to move.

Jensen took your cue with a nod and pulled his hips back before slowly sliding back in. Repeating the motion once, twice, a third time, until he felt less resistance, your body opening up to him, welcoming him to fuck you like you deserved. 

You felt heavenly, so wet, so snug, and the sounds you made were driving him wild. He was barely holding it together. Your face contorting in pleasure before him was almost too much; your mouth forming a little ‘O’ shape every time he hit that sweet spot inside you. 

You held on, you pleaded, you cried as he gave you every bit of himself and then some. Pounding into you over and over again, the sweet drag of his cock sending shivers throughout your entire being, your nerve endings alight and on fire. 

He could feel the flutter of your walls, the give and pull of your pussy both sucking him in and almost pushing him out. His hands fisted the sheets beside your head, internally praying to himself to last long enough for you to come again. He had to feel it, no, needed to feel you come over his cock.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” You cried, pulling him impossibly close, wanting to feel every bit of him as he pulled another mind-blowing orgasm from you. Your toes curled, your body tensed, your grip unrelenting as he pumped once, twice more before he too was following you with a deep moan into utter bliss. 

He panted heavily above you, your bodies clammy and sticking together, but as you looked at him, a dopey smile on your face, nothing else mattered. With a humorous huff of exertion, he pressed his forehead to yours, and you ran a soothing hand through his damp strands, smiling at the low rumble emitting from his chest at the action. 

Jensen pulled away after a long, quiet moment, just basking in the post-lovemaking afterglow, his smile warm and contagious. His eyes flickered over to the clock on the nightstand. 23:59. 

“Looks like I made it up to you just in time.” He joked with a nod of his head in the direction of the clock. You looked at the bold red numbers and shook your head. 

“Oh, you still have plenty more making up to do, mister.” You chided him with a light-hearted slap against his shoulder. “Besides, I still have yet to give you my gift.” You mumbled with a teasing smile against his lips. He pulled back with a curiously raised brow, and you giggled. 

“And what might that be?” He wondered, his eyes wide and curious. 

“Kiss me, and maybe you’ll find out—” His lips pressing to yours silenced you with muffled laughter, and just like that, the world outside—everything that had delayed him, everything that had gone wrong—was long forgotten. There were only the two of you, here, now, in a moment he hoped to cherish forever. 

AN: I hope y'all enjoyed this one! It's pure filth I know but I sprinkled some sweet romance in there ☺️ Let me know what you think! And Happy reading! 📖💕

[supernotnatural2005]

Ahh thank you Alex! I’m glad you liked it. There will be more of the reader and Dean in the next part! And Matty is the best cheerleader! 😂

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow. 

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow  ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve. 

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together—and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he��s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow. 

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow  ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve. 

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together—and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow. 

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow  ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve. 

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. ��This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

[supernotnatural2005]

Thank you so much! I’m glad you did 🤗

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together—and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow. 

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow  ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve. 

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow. 

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow  ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve. 

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute Masterlist

AN: Welcome to the Meet Cute master post!! Here I will compile all chapters to this series! Any chapters containing adult themes/smut will be marked as such **

If you would like to be tagged in this series/any chapters going forward, leave a comment and I will do so 😁💕

Main Masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three - TBA

[supernotnatural2005]

An Anniversary to Remember

Paring: Jensen x Reader

Summary: After a gruelling day of travel and a series of frustrating delays, Jensen finally returns home to you. Though at what cost? There is an hour left of your first anniversary as a married couple. However, once inside, Jensen is quickly reminded that, despite the hurdles, love always finds a way to make up for lost time.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+ ONLY), Swearing, fluff, husband!Jensen - Yes PLEASE!!! 😩

AN: So this had been in the works for a little while. Finally got around to finishing it. Just a little Husband!Jensen fantasy for ya and an excuse to write some filth, sue me 😅. Also no hate to his family. This is just purely fiction.

Main Masterlist

When Jensen pulled up to his home, it was late—much later than he’d wanted to return.

He exited the Uber with a quiet thanks, his suitcase in hand, and his heart heavy with disappointment. The house was dark, and he knew what that meant—you had probably fallen asleep. Guilt twisted in his stomach, despite knowing it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

His flight had been delayed by four hours, and he’d tried to remind himself that these things happened, that he’d rather get home in one piece than not at all. But it didn’t make him feel any better. 

This was your first anniversary as a married couple, and he’d spent most of it on a plane, feeling like the world was conspiring against him.

You’d been teasing him all day with sweet messages and playful hints about a surprise you had planned for him. You’d said you missed him, and as much as he hated being apart from you, your words had made the hours drag even more. 

Every text had left him more desperate to get back home to you. He hadn’t expected the universe to throw him one last delay, making the clock tick closer to midnight, the anniversary slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t your fault, he repeated in his head. It didn’t help the knot of frustration that twisted in his chest, though. A part of him wanted to stew in his irritation for the rest of the night. The entire day had felt like a mess, and here he was, at the doorstep of his home, with an hour left of the day that marked an incredible milestone of your relationship.

He stepped inside quietly, careful not to wake you. You hadn’t texted him since he’d landed about an hour ago, another painful reminder of how late it was. The house was dark and silent, as opposed to the ticking of the analogue clock hanging on the wall in the foyer.

Flipping on the downstairs light, he placed his suitcase by the door with a sigh and then toed off his shoes, deciding to deal with the mess of the day tomorrow. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, something caught his eye—something that made his heart race with both confusion and a spark of hope.

A trail of tea-light candles flickered on each step, casting warm pools of light against the wood, leading up the stairs. Between the candles were scattered rose petals, their deep red hues contrasting beautifully against the dark wood. 

Jensen’s brows furrowed in surprise. Could you still be awake? Or had you set all of this up and fallen asleep waiting for him?

If you were asleep, he was going to have to seriously grill you about fire safety—he could already imagine you leaving the candles burning in a half-dream state, only to wake up and find half the house had burnt down.

He couldn’t resist. A smile tugged at his lips as he followed the trail, carefully stepping over the rose petals as to not slip on them with his socked feet. His heart thudded in his chest, hope flickering again as he reached the top of the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, a soft, warm light spilling out from the gap. The unmistakable scent of roses filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of you—the soft vanilla scent of your lotion, the warmth of your perfume.

His concern shifted to worry again as he reached the door. What if you’d passed out with the candles still lit, too exhausted from waiting for him? What if he’d walked into a disaster? He pushed open the door gently, a wave of surprise washing over him when he saw the room.

It looked like something out of a dream.

The bed was framed by delicate fairy lights strung around the headboard, and more rose petals were scattered across the white sheets in a beautiful pattern. The soft glow of the candles reflected off everything, casting the room in a gentle golden light. And there you were, kneeling in the centre of the bed, looking every bit like the angel he’d married.

You wore a luxurious black silk robe, the fabric gliding over your skin, and it was tied loosely at the waist, leaving just enough to tease the red lace underneath. Your hair was styled softly, a few tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was subtle but somehow accentuated every beautiful feature.

Jensen was at a complete loss for words. You looked… breathtaking. No, more than that. You looked like something ethereal, something he didn’t deserve but was lucky enough to have. His heart skipped in his chest, and the earlier irritation melted away, replaced by a profound sense of love and gratitude.

“Y/N… I… wow,” he stammered, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes swept over you and the room. His gaze bounced from your glowing skin to the fairy lights around the bed, the petals scattered so carefully on the sheets. 

He took it all in, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “I didn’t think—I—I can’t believe you did all of this.”

You smiled softly at his bafflement, your eyes filled with affection as you held his gaze, looking at him like he hung the stars.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you whispered, your voice low, sensual—like it was meant only for him. The words made his chest tighten with emotion, and he swallowed hard, his hands shaking just slightly as he stepped toward you. 

The exhaustion from the past two weeks of travel was weighing heavily on him, but the sight of you, so beautifully waiting for him, made him forget it all. You shuffled on your knees to meet him halfway, your soft silk robe brushing against your skin as you closed the distance.

"I thought you’d never make it," you teased gently, your hands sliding up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, sending warmth through his body. “You’re always so late, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stood in front of you. The height of the bed and you kneeling on it, allowing you to be at eye level with him. 

"I’m so sorry, baby," he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I hate that I missed today. I wanted to be here for you—especially tonight."

“You’re here now,” you said with a soft smile, a look of understanding and love in your eyes. “And that’s all that matters.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing you, soft at first, almost reverently, savouring the feel of you against him after the long, gruelling day. His lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss, as if he was making up for every minute he’d missed.

When he pulled back, he just looked at you—looked at how you’d made this night so special despite the chaos of the day. And it hit him all at once: how lucky he was, how much he loved you.

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding around his neck, and in a low voice, you whispered, "Well, you may have been late, but I think you’ll more than make up for it."

Jensen chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "Trust me, I intend to."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, making good on his promise for the lost hours, the missed days. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours, as if this was the first time in years he’d been able to touch you like this.

You melted at his touch, his mouth, his careful but purposeful hands as they glided over the lines and dips and curves of your body. He touched you and kissed you with such familiarity, like your body was a well-revised map and he knew just the right spots before he got to his destination. 

You sighed as his lips strayed away from yours, now beginning their descent, starting with your jaw down towards your neck. His first stop, the little sensitive patch of skin he’d discovered behind your ear, just below your jaw. Your pitiful moans of pleasure as he latched on, sucking, nipping, and lapping until your breaths were harsh and short, filled him with pride. 

An impatient tug of his hair brought not only a spark of pleasure but also gave him the incentive to continue his journey. His lips passed over your collarbones, only a brief acknowledgement needed before he made it to the first landmark. However, he had an obstacle in his path, one that he needed removed in order to see the twin peaks in all their glory. 

The inside pun had Jensen smirking briefly.

He pulled away from you, the heat in your gaze keeping him warm as he made work on the first part of the barricade. His hands reached up and glided over your smooth skin, slowly guiding the silk robe off of your shoulders and down your arms. He watched intensely as goosebumps arose on your newly exposed skin and the sheer red lace barely contained your heaving breasts. 

God, you were beautiful.

He could see the dark outline of your nipples poking through the fabric, tormenting him, practically begging him to take a bite, and so he did. He leaned down, closing his mouth around the hardened nub, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh. Your gasp of surprise, which quickly melted into a low moan, spurred him on until he had enough of the fabric barrier and roughly tore the cup down, exposing your tit, desperate to taste your bare skin. 

“Oh God.” You sighed and clung to him blindly as he assaulted your chest with his delectable mouth. With every sweep of his tongue, graze of his teeth, and, white-hot shocks of pleasure, shot straight to your core. And before you knew it, the item of clothing was expertly unclasped and pulled from your body, leaving your tits bare and for the taking. 

Jensen took the moment to admire the sight. His eyes trailed between the smooth valley to the ruby-red peaks, pointed, sharp, and tempting. He bit back a groan as his large hands cupped each breast, relishing in their weight and massaging them in his palms in continued amazement. 

“Holy fuck, I’ve missed these.” Jensen wonders aloud, and you can’t help your giggle, though breathy at his delightful ministrations. He leans down once more to place a longing kiss on each tit before ascending back to your lips once more. 

You pull him onto the bed with you as he encourages you to lie down, his body moving to hover over yours, blanketing you in his weight and warmth as he kisses you breathless.

Shifting his weight to your side, do you then feel his hand travel from your cheek, stopping shortly to grope your chest before dipping further down until the tips of his fingers breach your panty line? 

Your hips rise on their own accord at feeling, desperate for him to just slip inside and relieve some of the pressure, and he smirks against your lips. 

“Please, baby, no more teasing.” You plead, sensing the look on his face and where his mind was drifting. He concedes, however, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, he still had 30 minutes left of your anniversary to make up to you. 

“I gotcha, baby.” He husks against your lips, pecking them once before he fully removes himself. You keen at the loss, but excitement fills you as he stands to remove his shirt and jeans. You can’t help but clamp your thighs shut at the impressive tent bobbing in his boxers with his movements. Your pussy throbs at the sight and memory of him. 

He climbs back onto the bed, but this time settles between your legs. With a heated gaze, he pulls the last piece of clothing from your body, and you help him by lifting your legs as he guides the dampened cloth up and off. 

His eyes darken at the obvious wet patch on the crotch area. “Fuck. You’ve ruined them, darlin’.” He groans low in his throat as his thumb sweeps across your mess. You bite your lip, 25% embarrassed and 75% turned the fuck on. 

“What? I’ve missed my husband.” You defend coyly and watch his eyes darken at your words, his hand becoming a tight fist around the wet lace, as if he was trying to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

Instead he drops the fabric to the floor and gently pries your closed legs open. With his eyes locked on yours, he dips down until he is finally face to face with one of the greatest discoveries he’d ever made. 

You bite your lip as he exposes you, his face so close to your pulsing cunt you can feel his warm breath as he braces himself more comfortably between your thighs. 

“Look at you.” He hums in delight as his eyes roam over the glistening lips of your pussy. He’s painfully hard at this point; even the gentle rut of his hips against the mattress does nothing to elevate the pressure. But none of that matters; he can wait, just like you had to for him. And boy, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a treat in itself. 

With one last appreciative look, he descends, his tongue flicking out to lick up the seam of your sex. The taste of you instantly explodes onto his taste buds, and his eyes flutter shut. Your cry out in pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his cock and tickling his pride, and so he repeats the action again and again and again, until you’re fisting his hair tight in your grasp and gyrating your hips against his face. 

He growls deep in his chest, something primal sparking to life in him at your little whimpers and begging hands. He grips the tops of your thighs tightly, keeping them spread as he divulges himself like a starved man into your sweet pie. 

You gasp, cry, and shout as his mouth brings you to heights only he ever could. He works you over like a fiddle, expertly plucking the strings that pull from you the sweetest-sounding melodies. 

It’s not long at all before you feel the familiar coil pull tight in your lower belly. Perhaps it was his absence, the long nights spent without his touch, the teasing messages and hushed whispers over the phone of all you wished to do to each other in the night. But he had your explosive climax erupt and jostle you to your core in a matter of minutes. Your body convulsing and twitching against his gifted mouth. 

He lapped at everything you dispelled hungrily, simultaneously working you through your descent back down to earth. You panted harshly, your heart beating hard enough to be heard in your ears, and down below you felt his affectionate kiss against your sex, your thighs, your stomach, all the way up your body until you were eagerly pulling his lips to yours. 

You groaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue and pulled him impossibly close, digging your feet into his backside for the sweet press of his clothed cock against your sensitive pussy. His eyes rolled back, and he pulled away from your fervent kiss at the contact. 

With a mischievous smile, you slid your legs high up his sides to get a grip on the waistband of his boxers with your feet, pushing them down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was quick to catch on and, with a smirk of his own, hurriedly kicked the clothing from his legs. 

As he settled above you, your gazes meeting, skin to skin, time seemed to slow down. In that precious moment, everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you. Your heart beat a little faster, not from haste or urgency, but from the depth of what you were sharing—a quiet, intimate kind of togetherness that spoke volumes without words. 

You took the moment to admire him, your husband, tracing the familiar curve of his jaw, the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. A year of marriage had passed in the blink of an eye, but somehow, it felt like a lifetime, woven together with moments like this—small, yet monumental.

You let your mind drift to the path that had brought you here. Of course, there had been challenges, especially when he had to leave for longer stretches of time—those weeks that stretched endlessly, when all you could do was wait, counting down the days until he came home. But even then, you never once questioned your love for him. Every moment apart only made the time together sweeter. Your desire for him, your love, your unwavering commitment never wavered. Because he was more than enough. He always had been.

“God, I love you,” Jensen murmured quietly, his voice rough with emotion, as his hand slid through your hair, tracing the soft lines of your face. His eyes—so full of adoration, so full of everything you needed—met yours, and in that gaze, you saw more than just love. You saw the years of trust, the comfort of knowing each other completely, and the certainty that this was exactly where you both needed to be.

His touch, so tender, was a promise. His words, though simple, were everything. You could feel your heart swell in your chest, so full of him, of this life you'd built together.

"I love you too," you replied, the words easy but carrying the weight of everything you’d felt in the time since you first met him. It wasn't just love—it was gratitude, it was awe, it was certainty. How lucky you were, how incredibly lucky, to love someone as honest, as kind, and as beautiful as him—and to have that love returned, freely and without hesitation.

Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and effortless, as if he could never tire of hearing those words from you. You were his anchor, his lighthouse—bright, sturdy, and always there to guide him home. In the quiet aftermath of your shared confessions, he pressed his forehead gently to yours, the connection between you both solid and real. The weight of the world could have been on his shoulders, but in this moment, with you, he was home.

And with that final thought, his lips found yours once more, slow and steady at first before the simmering fire roared to life. Your kisses became desperate, rough, and dirty, working you up until you were begging for him to fill you, to make you feel whole again.

And so he did. 

You gasped as he finally pressed into you, his blunt cockhead stretching you so deliciously, you forgot how to breathe. He moaned as your tight walls clamped around him, the feeling familiar yet new, for how long it had been, and god, had he missed the feel of you. 

You slid your arms around him, your hands gliding along his toned back, nails biting into his skin as he bottomed out, and he paused, giving you a minute to reaccommodate to his size. Your panted breaths combined in the small space between you, and it wasn’t long before you were begging him to move.

Jensen took your cue with a nod and pulled his hips back before slowly sliding back in. Repeating the motion once, twice, a third time, until he felt less resistance, your body opening up to him, welcoming him to fuck you like you deserved. 

You felt heavenly, so wet, so snug, and the sounds you made were driving him wild. He was barely holding it together. Your face contorting in pleasure before him was almost too much; your mouth forming a little ‘O’ shape every time he hit that sweet spot inside you. 

You held on, you pleaded, you cried as he gave you every bit of himself and then some. Pounding into you over and over again, the sweet drag of his cock sending shivers throughout your entire being, your nerve endings alight and on fire. 

He could feel the flutter of your walls, the give and pull of your pussy both sucking him in and almost pushing him out. His hands fisted the sheets beside your head, internally praying to himself to last long enough for you to come again. He had to feel it, no, needed to feel you come over his cock.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” You cried, pulling him impossibly close, wanting to feel every bit of him as he pulled another mind-blowing orgasm from you. Your toes curled, your body tensed, your grip unrelenting as he pumped once, twice more before he too was following you with a deep moan into utter bliss. 

He panted heavily above you, your bodies clammy and sticking together, but as you looked at him, a dopey smile on your face, nothing else mattered. With a humorous huff of exertion, he pressed his forehead to yours, and you ran a soothing hand through his damp strands, smiling at the low rumble emitting from his chest at the action. 

Jensen pulled away after a long, quiet moment, just basking in the post-lovemaking afterglow, his smile warm and contagious. His eyes flickered over to the clock on the nightstand. 23:59. 

“Looks like I made it up to you just in time.” He joked with a nod of his head in the direction of the clock. You looked at the bold red numbers and shook your head. 

“Oh, you still have plenty more making up to do, mister.” You chided him with a light-hearted slap against his shoulder. “Besides, I still have yet to give you my gift.” You mumbled with a teasing smile against his lips. He pulled back with a curiously raised brow, and you giggled. 

“And what might that be?” He wondered, his eyes wide and curious. 

“Kiss me, and maybe you’ll find out—” His lips pressing to yours silenced you with muffled laughter, and just like that, the world outside—everything that had delayed him, everything that had gone wrong—was long forgotten. There were only the two of you, here, now, in a moment he hoped to cherish forever. 

AN: I hope y'all enjoyed this one! It's pure filth I know but I sprinkled some sweet romance in there ☺️ Let me know what you think! And Happy reading! 📖💕

[supernotnatural2005]

An Anniversary to Remember

Paring: Jensen x Reader

Summary: After a gruelling day of travel and a series of frustrating delays, Jensen finally returns home to you. Though at what cost? There is an hour left of your first anniversary as a married couple. However, once inside, Jensen is quickly reminded that, despite the hurdles, love always finds a way to make up for lost time.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+ ONLY), Swearing, fluff, husband!Jensen - Yes PLEASE!!! 😩

AN: So this had been in the works for a little while. Finally got around to finishing it. Just a little Husband!Jensen fantasy for ya and an excuse to write some filth, sue me 😅. Also no hate to his family. This is just purely fiction.

Main Masterlist

When Jensen pulled up to his home, it was late—much later than he’d wanted to return.

He exited the Uber with a quiet thanks, his suitcase in hand, and his heart heavy with disappointment. The house was dark, and he knew what that meant—you had probably fallen asleep. Guilt twisted in his stomach, despite knowing it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

His flight had been delayed by four hours, and he’d tried to remind himself that these things happened, that he’d rather get home in one piece than not at all. But it didn’t make him feel any better. 

This was your first anniversary as a married couple, and he’d spent most of it on a plane, feeling like the world was conspiring against him.

You’d been teasing him all day with sweet messages and playful hints about a surprise you had planned for him. You’d said you missed him, and as much as he hated being apart from you, your words had made the hours drag even more. 

Every text had left him more desperate to get back home to you. He hadn’t expected the universe to throw him one last delay, making the clock tick closer to midnight, the anniversary slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t your fault, he repeated in his head. It didn’t help the knot of frustration that twisted in his chest, though. A part of him wanted to stew in his irritation for the rest of the night. The entire day had felt like a mess, and here he was, at the doorstep of his home, with an hour left of the day that marked an incredible milestone of your relationship.

He stepped inside quietly, careful not to wake you. You hadn’t texted him since he’d landed about an hour ago, another painful reminder of how late it was. The house was dark and silent, as opposed to the ticking of the analogue clock hanging on the wall in the foyer.

Flipping on the downstairs light, he placed his suitcase by the door with a sigh and then toed off his shoes, deciding to deal with the mess of the day tomorrow. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, something caught his eye—something that made his heart race with both confusion and a spark of hope.

A trail of tea-light candles flickered on each step, casting warm pools of light against the wood, leading up the stairs. Between the candles were scattered rose petals, their deep red hues contrasting beautifully against the dark wood. 

Jensen’s brows furrowed in surprise. Could you still be awake? Or had you set all of this up and fallen asleep waiting for him?

If you were asleep, he was going to have to seriously grill you about fire safety—he could already imagine you leaving the candles burning in a half-dream state, only to wake up and find half the house had burnt down.

He couldn’t resist. A smile tugged at his lips as he followed the trail, carefully stepping over the rose petals as to not slip on them with his socked feet. His heart thudded in his chest, hope flickering again as he reached the top of the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, a soft, warm light spilling out from the gap. The unmistakable scent of roses filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of you—the soft vanilla scent of your lotion, the warmth of your perfume.

His concern shifted to worry again as he reached the door. What if you’d passed out with the candles still lit, too exhausted from waiting for him? What if he’d walked into a disaster? He pushed open the door gently, a wave of surprise washing over him when he saw the room.

It looked like something out of a dream.

The bed was framed by delicate fairy lights strung around the headboard, and more rose petals were scattered across the white sheets in a beautiful pattern. The soft glow of the candles reflected off everything, casting the room in a gentle golden light. And there you were, kneeling in the centre of the bed, looking every bit like the angel he’d married.

You wore a luxurious black silk robe, the fabric gliding over your skin, and it was tied loosely at the waist, leaving just enough to tease the red lace underneath. Your hair was styled softly, a few tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was subtle but somehow accentuated every beautiful feature.

Jensen was at a complete loss for words. You looked… breathtaking. No, more than that. You looked like something ethereal, something he didn’t deserve but was lucky enough to have. His heart skipped in his chest, and the earlier irritation melted away, replaced by a profound sense of love and gratitude.

“Y/N… I… wow,” he stammered, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes swept over you and the room. His gaze bounced from your glowing skin to the fairy lights around the bed, the petals scattered so carefully on the sheets. 

He took it all in, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “I didn’t think—I—I can’t believe you did all of this.”

You smiled softly at his bafflement, your eyes filled with affection as you held his gaze, looking at him like he hung the stars.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you whispered, your voice low, sensual—like it was meant only for him. The words made his chest tighten with emotion, and he swallowed hard, his hands shaking just slightly as he stepped toward you. 

The exhaustion from the past two weeks of travel was weighing heavily on him, but the sight of you, so beautifully waiting for him, made him forget it all. You shuffled on your knees to meet him halfway, your soft silk robe brushing against your skin as you closed the distance.

"I thought you’d never make it," you teased gently, your hands sliding up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, sending warmth through his body. “You’re always so late, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stood in front of you. The height of the bed and you kneeling on it, allowing you to be at eye level with him. 

"I’m so sorry, baby," he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I hate that I missed today. I wanted to be here for you—especially tonight."

“You’re here now,” you said with a soft smile, a look of understanding and love in your eyes. “And that’s all that matters.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing you, soft at first, almost reverently, savouring the feel of you against him after the long, gruelling day. His lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss, as if he was making up for every minute he’d missed.

When he pulled back, he just looked at you—looked at how you’d made this night so special despite the chaos of the day. And it hit him all at once: how lucky he was, how much he loved you.

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding around his neck, and in a low voice, you whispered, "Well, you may have been late, but I think you’ll more than make up for it."

Jensen chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "Trust me, I intend to."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, making good on his promise for the lost hours, the missed days. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours, as if this was the first time in years he’d been able to touch you like this.

You melted at his touch, his mouth, his careful but purposeful hands as they glided over the lines and dips and curves of your body. He touched you and kissed you with such familiarity, like your body was a well-revised map and he knew just the right spots before he got to his destination. 

You sighed as his lips strayed away from yours, now beginning their descent, starting with your jaw down towards your neck. His first stop, the little sensitive patch of skin he’d discovered behind your ear, just below your jaw. Your pitiful moans of pleasure as he latched on, sucking, nipping, and lapping until your breaths were harsh and short, filled him with pride. 

An impatient tug of his hair brought not only a spark of pleasure but also gave him the incentive to continue his journey. His lips passed over your collarbones, only a brief acknowledgement needed before he made it to the first landmark. However, he had an obstacle in his path, one that he needed removed in order to see the twin peaks in all their glory. 

The inside pun had Jensen smirking briefly.

He pulled away from you, the heat in your gaze keeping him warm as he made work on the first part of the barricade. His hands reached up and glided over your smooth skin, slowly guiding the silk robe off of your shoulders and down your arms. He watched intensely as goosebumps arose on your newly exposed skin and the sheer red lace barely contained your heaving breasts. 

God, you were beautiful.

He could see the dark outline of your nipples poking through the fabric, tormenting him, practically begging him to take a bite, and so he did. He leaned down, closing his mouth around the hardened nub, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh. Your gasp of surprise, which quickly melted into a low moan, spurred him on until he had enough of the fabric barrier and roughly tore the cup down, exposing your tit, desperate to taste your bare skin. 

“Oh God.” You sighed and clung to him blindly as he assaulted your chest with his delectable mouth. With every sweep of his tongue, graze of his teeth, and, white-hot shocks of pleasure, shot straight to your core. And before you knew it, the item of clothing was expertly unclasped and pulled from your body, leaving your tits bare and for the taking. 

Jensen took the moment to admire the sight. His eyes trailed between the smooth valley to the ruby-red peaks, pointed, sharp, and tempting. He bit back a groan as his large hands cupped each breast, relishing in their weight and massaging them in his palms in continued amazement. 

“Holy fuck, I’ve missed these.” Jensen wonders aloud, and you can’t help your giggle, though breathy at his delightful ministrations. He leans down once more to place a longing kiss on each tit before ascending back to your lips once more. 

You pull him onto the bed with you as he encourages you to lie down, his body moving to hover over yours, blanketing you in his weight and warmth as he kisses you breathless.

Shifting his weight to your side, do you then feel his hand travel from your cheek, stopping shortly to grope your chest before dipping further down until the tips of his fingers breach your panty line? 

Your hips rise on their own accord at feeling, desperate for him to just slip inside and relieve some of the pressure, and he smirks against your lips. 

“Please, baby, no more teasing.” You plead, sensing the look on his face and where his mind was drifting. He concedes, however, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, he still had 30 minutes left of your anniversary to make up to you. 

“I gotcha, baby.” He husks against your lips, pecking them once before he fully removes himself. You keen at the loss, but excitement fills you as he stands to remove his shirt and jeans. You can’t help but clamp your thighs shut at the impressive tent bobbing in his boxers with his movements. Your pussy throbs at the sight and memory of him. 

He climbs back onto the bed, but this time settles between your legs. With a heated gaze, he pulls the last piece of clothing from your body, and you help him by lifting your legs as he guides the dampened cloth up and off. 

His eyes darken at the obvious wet patch on the crotch area. “Fuck. You’ve ruined them, darlin’.” He groans low in his throat as his thumb sweeps across your mess. You bite your lip, 25% embarrassed and 75% turned the fuck on. 

“What? I’ve missed my husband.” You defend coyly and watch his eyes darken at your words, his hand becoming a tight fist around the wet lace, as if he was trying to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

Instead he drops the fabric to the floor and gently pries your closed legs open. With his eyes locked on yours, he dips down until he is finally face to face with one of the greatest discoveries he’d ever made. 

You bite your lip as he exposes you, his face so close to your pulsing cunt you can feel his warm breath as he braces himself more comfortably between your thighs. 

“Look at you.” He hums in delight as his eyes roam over the glistening lips of your pussy. He’s painfully hard at this point; even the gentle rut of his hips against the mattress does nothing to elevate the pressure. But none of that matters; he can wait, just like you had to for him. And boy, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a treat in itself. 

With one last appreciative look, he descends, his tongue flicking out to lick up the seam of your sex. The taste of you instantly explodes onto his taste buds, and his eyes flutter shut. Your cry out in pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his cock and tickling his pride, and so he repeats the action again and again and again, until you’re fisting his hair tight in your grasp and gyrating your hips against his face. 

He growls deep in his chest, something primal sparking to life in him at your little whimpers and begging hands. He grips the tops of your thighs tightly, keeping them spread as he divulges himself like a starved man into your sweet pie. 

You gasp, cry, and shout as his mouth brings you to heights only he ever could. He works you over like a fiddle, expertly plucking the strings that pull from you the sweetest-sounding melodies. 

It’s not long at all before you feel the familiar coil pull tight in your lower belly. Perhaps it was his absence, the long nights spent without his touch, the teasing messages and hushed whispers over the phone of all you wished to do to each other in the night. But he had your explosive climax erupt and jostle you to your core in a matter of minutes. Your body convulsing and twitching against his gifted mouth. 

He lapped at everything you dispelled hungrily, simultaneously working you through your descent back down to earth. You panted harshly, your heart beating hard enough to be heard in your ears, and down below you felt his affectionate kiss against your sex, your thighs, your stomach, all the way up your body until you were eagerly pulling his lips to yours. 

You groaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue and pulled him impossibly close, digging your feet into his backside for the sweet press of his clothed cock against your sensitive pussy. His eyes rolled back, and he pulled away from your fervent kiss at the contact. 

With a mischievous smile, you slid your legs high up his sides to get a grip on the waistband of his boxers with your feet, pushing them down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was quick to catch on and, with a smirk of his own, hurriedly kicked the clothing from his legs. 

As he settled above you, your gazes meeting, skin to skin, time seemed to slow down. In that precious moment, everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you. Your heart beat a little faster, not from haste or urgency, but from the depth of what you were sharing—a quiet, intimate kind of togetherness that spoke volumes without words. 

You took the moment to admire him, your husband, tracing the familiar curve of his jaw, the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. A year of marriage had passed in the blink of an eye, but somehow, it felt like a lifetime, woven together with moments like this—small, yet monumental.

You let your mind drift to the path that had brought you here. Of course, there had been challenges, especially when he had to leave for longer stretches of time—those weeks that stretched endlessly, when all you could do was wait, counting down the days until he came home. But even then, you never once questioned your love for him. Every moment apart only made the time together sweeter. Your desire for him, your love, your unwavering commitment never wavered. Because he was more than enough. He always had been.

“God, I love you,” Jensen murmured quietly, his voice rough with emotion, as his hand slid through your hair, tracing the soft lines of your face. His eyes—so full of adoration, so full of everything you needed—met yours, and in that gaze, you saw more than just love. You saw the years of trust, the comfort of knowing each other completely, and the certainty that this was exactly where you both needed to be.

His touch, so tender, was a promise. His words, though simple, were everything. You could feel your heart swell in your chest, so full of him, of this life you'd built together.

"I love you too," you replied, the words easy but carrying the weight of everything you’d felt in the time since you first met him. It wasn't just love—it was gratitude, it was awe, it was certainty. How lucky you were, how incredibly lucky, to love someone as honest, as kind, and as beautiful as him—and to have that love returned, freely and without hesitation.

Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and effortless, as if he could never tire of hearing those words from you. You were his anchor, his lighthouse—bright, sturdy, and always there to guide him home. In the quiet aftermath of your shared confessions, he pressed his forehead gently to yours, the connection between you both solid and real. The weight of the world could have been on his shoulders, but in this moment, with you, he was home.

And with that final thought, his lips found yours once more, slow and steady at first before the simmering fire roared to life. Your kisses became desperate, rough, and dirty, working you up until you were begging for him to fill you, to make you feel whole again.

And so he did. 

You gasped as he finally pressed into you, his blunt cockhead stretching you so deliciously, you forgot how to breathe. He moaned as your tight walls clamped around him, the feeling familiar yet new, for how long it had been, and god, had he missed the feel of you. 

You slid your arms around him, your hands gliding along his toned back, nails biting into his skin as he bottomed out, and he paused, giving you a minute to reaccommodate to his size. Your panted breaths combined in the small space between you, and it wasn’t long before you were begging him to move.

Jensen took your cue with a nod and pulled his hips back before slowly sliding back in. Repeating the motion once, twice, a third time, until he felt less resistance, your body opening up to him, welcoming him to fuck you like you deserved. 

You felt heavenly, so wet, so snug, and the sounds you made were driving him wild. He was barely holding it together. Your face contorting in pleasure before him was almost too much; your mouth forming a little ‘O’ shape every time he hit that sweet spot inside you. 

You held on, you pleaded, you cried as he gave you every bit of himself and then some. Pounding into you over and over again, the sweet drag of his cock sending shivers throughout your entire being, your nerve endings alight and on fire. 

He could feel the flutter of your walls, the give and pull of your pussy both sucking him in and almost pushing him out. His hands fisted the sheets beside your head, internally praying to himself to last long enough for you to come again. He had to feel it, no, needed to feel you come over his cock.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” You cried, pulling him impossibly close, wanting to feel every bit of him as he pulled another mind-blowing orgasm from you. Your toes curled, your body tensed, your grip unrelenting as he pumped once, twice more before he too was following you with a deep moan into utter bliss. 

He panted heavily above you, your bodies clammy and sticking together, but as you looked at him, a dopey smile on your face, nothing else mattered. With a humorous huff of exertion, he pressed his forehead to yours, and you ran a soothing hand through his damp strands, smiling at the low rumble emitting from his chest at the action. 

Jensen pulled away after a long, quiet moment, just basking in the post-lovemaking afterglow, his smile warm and contagious. His eyes flickered over to the clock on the nightstand. 23:59. 

“Looks like I made it up to you just in time.” He joked with a nod of his head in the direction of the clock. You looked at the bold red numbers and shook your head. 

“Oh, you still have plenty more making up to do, mister.” You chided him with a light-hearted slap against his shoulder. “Besides, I still have yet to give you my gift.” You mumbled with a teasing smile against his lips. He pulled back with a curiously raised brow, and you giggled. 

“And what might that be?” He wondered, his eyes wide and curious. 

“Kiss me, and maybe you’ll find out—” His lips pressing to yours silenced you with muffled laughter, and just like that, the world outside—everything that had delayed him, everything that had gone wrong—was long forgotten. There were only the two of you, here, now, in a moment he hoped to cherish forever. 

AN: I hope y'all enjoyed this one! It's pure filth I know but I sprinkled some sweet romance in there ☺️ Let me know what you think! And Happy reading! 📖💕

[supernotnatural2005]

An Anniversary to Remember

Paring: Jensen x Reader

Summary: After a gruelling day of travel and a series of frustrating delays, Jensen finally returns home to you. Though at what cost? There is an hour left of your first anniversary as a married couple. However, once inside, Jensen is quickly reminded that, despite the hurdles, love always finds a way to make up for lost time.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+ ONLY), Swearing, fluff, husband!Jensen - Yes PLEASE!!! 😩

AN: So this had been in the works for a little while. Finally got around to finishing it. Just a little Husband!Jensen fantasy for ya and an excuse to write some filth, sue me 😅. Also no hate to his family. This is just purely fiction.

Main Masterlist

When Jensen pulled up to his home, it was late—much later than he’d wanted to return.

He exited the Uber with a quiet thanks, his suitcase in hand, and his heart heavy with disappointment. The house was dark, and he knew what that meant—you had probably fallen asleep. Guilt twisted in his stomach, despite knowing it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

His flight had been delayed by four hours, and he’d tried to remind himself that these things happened, that he’d rather get home in one piece than not at all. But it didn’t make him feel any better. 

This was your first anniversary as a married couple, and he’d spent most of it on a plane, feeling like the world was conspiring against him.

You’d been teasing him all day with sweet messages and playful hints about a surprise you had planned for him. You’d said you missed him, and as much as he hated being apart from you, your words had made the hours drag even more. 

Every text had left him more desperate to get back home to you. He hadn’t expected the universe to throw him one last delay, making the clock tick closer to midnight, the anniversary slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t your fault, he repeated in his head. It didn’t help the knot of frustration that twisted in his chest, though. A part of him wanted to stew in his irritation for the rest of the night. The entire day had felt like a mess, and here he was, at the doorstep of his home, with an hour left of the day that marked an incredible milestone of your relationship.

He stepped inside quietly, careful not to wake you. You hadn’t texted him since he’d landed about an hour ago, another painful reminder of how late it was. The house was dark and silent, as opposed to the ticking of the analogue clock hanging on the wall in the foyer.

Flipping on the downstairs light, he placed his suitcase by the door with a sigh and then toed off his shoes, deciding to deal with the mess of the day tomorrow. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, something caught his eye—something that made his heart race with both confusion and a spark of hope.

A trail of tea-light candles flickered on each step, casting warm pools of light against the wood, leading up the stairs. Between the candles were scattered rose petals, their deep red hues contrasting beautifully against the dark wood. 

Jensen’s brows furrowed in surprise. Could you still be awake? Or had you set all of this up and fallen asleep waiting for him?

If you were asleep, he was going to have to seriously grill you about fire safety—he could already imagine you leaving the candles burning in a half-dream state, only to wake up and find half the house had burnt down.

He couldn’t resist. A smile tugged at his lips as he followed the trail, carefully stepping over the rose petals as to not slip on them with his socked feet. His heart thudded in his chest, hope flickering again as he reached the top of the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, a soft, warm light spilling out from the gap. The unmistakable scent of roses filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of you—the soft vanilla scent of your lotion, the warmth of your perfume.

His concern shifted to worry again as he reached the door. What if you’d passed out with the candles still lit, too exhausted from waiting for him? What if he’d walked into a disaster? He pushed open the door gently, a wave of surprise washing over him when he saw the room.

It looked like something out of a dream.

The bed was framed by delicate fairy lights strung around the headboard, and more rose petals were scattered across the white sheets in a beautiful pattern. The soft glow of the candles reflected off everything, casting the room in a gentle golden light. And there you were, kneeling in the centre of the bed, looking every bit like the angel he’d married.

You wore a luxurious black silk robe, the fabric gliding over your skin, and it was tied loosely at the waist, leaving just enough to tease the red lace underneath. Your hair was styled softly, a few tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was subtle but somehow accentuated every beautiful feature.

Jensen was at a complete loss for words. You looked… breathtaking. No, more than that. You looked like something ethereal, something he didn’t deserve but was lucky enough to have. His heart skipped in his chest, and the earlier irritation melted away, replaced by a profound sense of love and gratitude.

“Y/N… I… wow,” he stammered, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes swept over you and the room. His gaze bounced from your glowing skin to the fairy lights around the bed, the petals scattered so carefully on the sheets. 

He took it all in, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “I didn’t think—I—I can’t believe you did all of this.”

You smiled softly at his bafflement, your eyes filled with affection as you held his gaze, looking at him like he hung the stars.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you whispered, your voice low, sensual—like it was meant only for him. The words made his chest tighten with emotion, and he swallowed hard, his hands shaking just slightly as he stepped toward you. 

The exhaustion from the past two weeks of travel was weighing heavily on him, but the sight of you, so beautifully waiting for him, made him forget it all. You shuffled on your knees to meet him halfway, your soft silk robe brushing against your skin as you closed the distance.

"I thought you’d never make it," you teased gently, your hands sliding up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, sending warmth through his body. “You’re always so late, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stood in front of you. The height of the bed and you kneeling on it, allowing you to be at eye level with him. 

"I’m so sorry, baby," he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I hate that I missed today. I wanted to be here for you—especially tonight."

“You’re here now,” you said with a soft smile, a look of understanding and love in your eyes. “And that’s all that matters.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing you, soft at first, almost reverently, savouring the feel of you against him after the long, gruelling day. His lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss, as if he was making up for every minute he’d missed.

When he pulled back, he just looked at you—looked at how you’d made this night so special despite the chaos of the day. And it hit him all at once: how lucky he was, how much he loved you.

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding around his neck, and in a low voice, you whispered, "Well, you may have been late, but I think you’ll more than make up for it."

Jensen chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "Trust me, I intend to."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, making good on his promise for the lost hours, the missed days. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours, as if this was the first time in years he’d been able to touch you like this.

You melted at his touch, his mouth, his careful but purposeful hands as they glided over the lines and dips and curves of your body. He touched you and kissed you with such familiarity, like your body was a well-revised map and he knew just the right spots before he got to his destination. 

You sighed as his lips strayed away from yours, now beginning their descent, starting with your jaw down towards your neck. His first stop, the little sensitive patch of skin he’d discovered behind your ear, just below your jaw. Your pitiful moans of pleasure as he latched on, sucking, nipping, and lapping until your breaths were harsh and short, filled him with pride. 

An impatient tug of his hair brought not only a spark of pleasure but also gave him the incentive to continue his journey. His lips passed over your collarbones, only a brief acknowledgement needed before he made it to the first landmark. However, he had an obstacle in his path, one that he needed removed in order to see the twin peaks in all their glory. 

The inside pun had Jensen smirking briefly.

He pulled away from you, the heat in your gaze keeping him warm as he made work on the first part of the barricade. His hands reached up and glided over your smooth skin, slowly guiding the silk robe off of your shoulders and down your arms. He watched intensely as goosebumps arose on your newly exposed skin and the sheer red lace barely contained your heaving breasts. 

God, you were beautiful.

He could see the dark outline of your nipples poking through the fabric, tormenting him, practically begging him to take a bite, and so he did. He leaned down, closing his mouth around the hardened nub, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh. Your gasp of surprise, which quickly melted into a low moan, spurred him on until he had enough of the fabric barrier and roughly tore the cup down, exposing your tit, desperate to taste your bare skin. 

“Oh God.” You sighed and clung to him blindly as he assaulted your chest with his delectable mouth. With every sweep of his tongue, graze of his teeth, white-hot shocks of pleasure, shot straight to your core. And before you knew it, the item of clothing was expertly unclasped and pulled from your body, leaving your tits bare and for the taking. 

Jensen took the moment to admire the sight. His eyes trailed between the smooth valley to the ruby-red peaks, pointed, sharp, and tempting. He bit back a groan as his large hands cupped each breast, relishing in their weight and massaging them in his palms in continued amazement. 

“Holy fuck, I’ve missed these.” Jensen wonders aloud, and you can’t help your giggle, though breathy at his delightful ministrations. He leans down once more to place a longing kiss on each tit before ascending back to your lips once more. 

You pull him onto the bed with you as he encourages you to lie down, his body moving to hover over yours, blanketing you in his weight and warmth as he kisses you breathless.

Shifting his weight to your side, do you then feel his hand travel from your cheek, stopping shortly to grope your chest before dipping further down until the tips of his fingers breach your panty line.

Your hips rise on their own accord at the feeling, desperate for him to just slip inside and relieve some of the pressure, and he smirks against your lips. 

“Please, baby, no more teasing.” You plead, sensing the look on his face and where his mind was drifting. He concedes, however, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, he still had 30 minutes left of your anniversary to make up to you. 

“I gotcha, baby.” He husks against your lips, pecking them once before he fully removes himself. You keen at the loss, but excitement fills you as he stands to remove his shirt and jeans. You can’t help but clamp your thighs shut at the impressive tent bobbing in his boxers with his movements. Your pussy throbs at the sight and memory of him. 

He climbs back onto the bed, but this time settles between your legs. With a heated gaze, he pulls the last piece of clothing from your body, and you help him by lifting your legs as he guides the dampened cloth up and off. 

His eyes darken at the obvious wet patch on the crotch area. “Fuck. You’ve ruined them, darlin’.” He groans low in his throat as his thumb sweeps across your mess. You bite your lip, 25% embarrassed and 75% turned the fuck on. 

“What? I’ve missed my husband.” You defend coyly and watch his eyes darken at your words, his hand becoming a tight fist around the wet lace, as if he was trying to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

Instead he drops the fabric to the floor and gently pries your closed legs open. With his eyes locked on yours, he dips down until he is finally face to face with one of the greatest discoveries he’d ever made. 

You bite your lip as he exposes you, his face so close to your pulsing cunt you can feel his warm breath as he braces himself more comfortably between your thighs. 

“Look at you.” He hums in delight as his eyes roam over the glistening lips of your pussy. He’s painfully hard at this point; even the gentle rut of his hips against the mattress does nothing to elevate the pressure. But none of that matters; he can wait, just like you had to for him. And boy, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a treat in itself. 

With one last appreciative look, he descends, his tongue flicking out to lick up the seam of your sex. The taste of you instantly explodes onto his taste buds, and his eyes flutter shut. Your cry out in pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his cock and tickling his pride, and so he repeats the action again and again and again, until you’re fisting his hair tight in your grasp and gyrating your hips against his face. 

He growls deep in his chest, something primal sparking to life in him at your little whimpers and begging hands. He grips the tops of your thighs tightly, keeping them spread as he divulges himself like a starved man into your sweet pie. 

You gasp, cry, and shout as his mouth brings you to heights only he ever could. He works you over like a fiddle, expertly plucking the strings that pull from you the sweetest-sounding melodies. 

It’s not long at all before you feel the familiar coil pull tight in your lower belly. Perhaps it was his absence, the long nights spent without his touch, the teasing messages and hushed whispers over the phone of all you wished to do to each other in the night. But he had your explosive climax erupt and jostle you to your core in a matter of minutes. Your body convulsing and twitching against his gifted mouth. 

He lapped at everything you dispelled hungrily, simultaneously working you through your descent back down to earth. You panted harshly, your heart beating hard enough to be heard in your ears, and down below you felt his affectionate kiss against your sex, your thighs, your stomach, all the way up your body until you were eagerly pulling his lips to yours. 

You groaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue and pulled him impossibly close, digging your feet into his backside for the sweet press of his clothed cock against your sensitive pussy. His eyes rolled back, and he pulled away from your fervent kiss at the contact. 

With a mischievous smile, you slid your legs high up his sides to get a grip on the waistband of his boxers with your feet, pushing them down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was quick to catch on and, with a smirk of his own, hurriedly kicked the clothing from his legs. 

As he settled above you, your gazes meeting, skin to skin, time seemed to slow down. In that precious moment, everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you. Your heart beat a little faster, not from haste or urgency, but from the depth of what you were sharing—a quiet, intimate kind of togetherness that spoke volumes without words. 

You took the moment to admire him, your husband, tracing the familiar curve of his jaw, the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. A year of marriage had passed in the blink of an eye, but somehow, it felt like a lifetime, woven together with moments like this—small, yet monumental.

You let your mind drift to the path that had brought you here. Of course, there had been challenges, especially when he had to leave for longer stretches of time—those weeks that stretched endlessly, when all you could do was wait, counting down the days until he came home. But even then, you never once questioned your love for him. Every moment apart only made the time together sweeter. Your desire for him, your love, your unwavering commitment never wavered. Because he was more than enough. He always had been.

“God, I love you,” Jensen murmured quietly, his voice rough with emotion, as his hand slid through your hair, tracing the soft lines of your face. His eyes—so full of adoration, so full of everything you needed—met yours, and in that gaze, you saw more than just love. You saw the years of trust, the comfort of knowing each other completely, and the certainty that this was exactly where you both needed to be.

His touch, so tender, was a promise. His words, though simple, were everything. You could feel your heart swell in your chest, so full of him, of this life you'd built together.

"I love you too," you replied, the words easy but carrying the weight of everything you’d felt in the time since you first met him. It wasn't just love—it was gratitude, it was awe, it was certainty. How lucky you were, how incredibly lucky, to love someone as honest, as kind, and as beautiful as him—and to have that love returned, freely and without hesitation.

Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and effortless, as if he could never tire of hearing those words from you. You were his anchor, his lighthouse—bright, sturdy, and always there to guide him home. In the quiet aftermath of your shared confessions, he pressed his forehead gently to yours, the connection between you both solid and real. The weight of the world could have been on his shoulders, but in this moment, with you, he was home.

And with that final thought, his lips found yours once more, slow and steady at first before the simmering fire roared to life. Your kisses became desperate, rough, and dirty, working you up until you were begging for him to fill you, to make you feel whole again.

And so he did. 

You gasped as he finally pressed into you, his blunt cockhead stretching you so deliciously, you forgot how to breathe. He moaned as your tight walls clamped around him, the feeling familiar yet new, for how long it had been, and god, had he missed the feel of you. 

You slid your arms around him, your hands gliding along his toned back, nails biting into his skin as he bottomed out, and he paused, giving you a minute to reaccommodate to his size. Your panted breaths combined in the small space between you, and it wasn’t long before you were begging him to move.

Jensen took your cue with a nod and pulled his hips back before slowly sliding back in. Repeating the motion once, twice, a third time, until he felt less resistance, your body opening up to him, welcoming him to fuck you like you deserved. 

You felt heavenly, so wet, so snug, and the sounds you made were driving him wild. He was barely holding it together. Your face contorting in pleasure before him was almost too much; your mouth forming a little ‘O’ shape every time he hit that sweet spot inside you. 

You held on, you pleaded, you cried as he gave you every bit of himself and then some. Pounding into you over and over again, the sweet drag of his cock sending shivers throughout your entire being, your nerve endings alight and on fire. 

He could feel the flutter of your walls, the give and pull of your pussy both sucking him in and almost pushing him out. His hands fisted the sheets beside your head, internally praying to himself to last long enough for you to come again. He had to feel it, no, needed to feel you come over his cock.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” You cried, pulling him impossibly close, wanting to feel every bit of him as he pulled another mind-blowing orgasm from you. Your toes curled, your body tensed, your grip unrelenting as he pumped once, twice more before he too was following you with a deep moan into utter bliss. 

He panted heavily above you, your bodies clammy and sticking together, but as you looked at him, a dopey smile on your face, nothing else mattered. With a humorous huff of exertion, he pressed his forehead to yours, and you ran a soothing hand through his damp strands, smiling at the low rumble emitting from his chest at the action. 

Jensen pulled away after a long, quiet moment, just basking in the post-lovemaking afterglow, his smile warm and contagious. His eyes flickered over to the clock on the nightstand. 23:59. 

“Looks like I made it up to you just in time.” He joked with a nod of his head in the direction of the clock. You looked at the bold red numbers and shook your head. 

“Oh, you still have plenty more making up to do, mister.” You chided him with a light-hearted slap against his shoulder. “Besides, I still have yet to give you my gift.” You mumbled with a teasing smile against his lips. He pulled back with a curiously raised brow, and you giggled. 

“And what might that be?” He wondered, his eyes wide and curious. 

“Kiss me, and maybe you’ll find out—” His lips pressing to yours silenced you with muffled laughter, and just like that, the world outside—everything that had delayed him, everything that had gone wrong—was long forgotten. There were only the two of you, here, now, in a moment he hoped to cherish forever. 

AN: I hope y'all enjoyed this one! It's pure filth I know but I sprinkled some sweet romance in there ☺️ Let me know what you think! And Happy reading! 📖💕

[supernotnatural2005]

Angel! ❤️🥹

[supernotnatural2005]

I’m honestly blown away by the love on this fic!

It was my first go back into writing after a long time of not posting or completing anything. And i just want to say a huge thank you and welcome to all new followers and those who follow my work.

I hope to continue to share my stories with you and bring some joy to you in these tough times 💕 you’re all wonderful and i’m so grateful for this community that has helped me through so much. ❤️ anyways side rant over lol! Incase you haven’t read this one yet! Happy smutty reading 🥵😂

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

My Masterlist

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[supernotnatural2005]

This was such a lovely read! ❤️ and currently I can completely relate with the reader on turning into an icicle! 😂 where is my own Dean to keep me warm!!!???😭

Freeze the Moment

SHIP: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader GENRE: Fluff TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Dean and you are digging up a grave for a salt and burn case when you're surprised by some winter magic, little bit of a creepy atmosphere, sharing a bed and cuddling, not proofread WORD COUNT: 1.1k A/N: Another submission for the Prompt-Mas event of our Supernatural Writers Community! I honestly didn't plan to write anything today, I should work on smth else, but I couldn't help it, lmao. PROMPT: Day Two: First Snow CREDIT & LINKS: divider ──〃★ masterlist

While Dean parks the Impala, you scroll through your phone again. Checking your notes app, you think about the clues for this case. It should be easy enough, a simple salt and burn mission to put a ghost to rest.

However, just to be safe, the two of you decided to book a motel room anyway.

The plan was to check in, hit the graveyard at night, get some shut-eye, and in the morning, you’d check the (by then, hopefully, no longer) haunted house. So, to get on with step one, Dean and you exit the car only to be welcomed by crisp winter air.

It’s been a while since you had a job this cut and dry. For once, you had no worries that things would go smoothly. You were even looking forward to a good amount of sleep, regardless of how run down the motel might be.

If only every day of hunting was this calm.

A loud sneeze next to you interrupts said calm atmosphere.

“It’s freezing,” Dean complains with an annoyed sniff, brows knitted together in obvious dismay.

Turns out a certain someone’s grumpy mood can pierce even through the most idle of moments.

You wouldn’t have it any other way— At the end of the day, Dean’s gruff facade is just that. A facade. He might grumble about missing hot summer days on the beach, but all that reminiscing doesn’t change the fact that he’s never had an actual relaxation day at any coast.

“Okay, Mr. Six Layers of Flannel,” you chuckle teasingly and pat his shoulder in playful consolation. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you’re like a human furnace anyway.”

To prove your point, you poke his forehead. As your finger flicks against the crease between his furrowed brows, you affirmatively nod to yourself. Dean Winchester is always hot — pun fully intended. There’s a reason you affectionately call him your personal heater sometimes.

“If you say so, Frosty the Snowman,” Dean snorts right back at you.

A teasing, yet fitting nickname for you. Where his body usually ran warm constantly, you had the tendency to turn into an icicle. No wonder you two were a good match when in some aspects opposites do attract.

Either way, the weather really couldn’t be that bad, if you had no complaints.

Four hours later and the last few sunrays of the day having disappeared entirely, you weren't so sure anymore.

Graveyards always have an uninviting air around them, especially at night. But since the degrees have dropped even further, you finally agree with Dean.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble through chattering teeth.

“Whoa there, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles bemusedly and you glare at him as you see his puffed out chest, all proud to be in the right after all. “Language.”

“I’ll mind my mouth once I can feel it again,” you huff. Even your voice is shaky as you shiver.

Honestly, you can barely feel any part of your body. Ever tried digging up a grave? If you think that’s bad already, try imagine it with fingers so cold they might as well break against the shovel.

Dean pries said shovel from your clammy hands and shoves salt and lighter towards you instead. His hands brush against yours in the process and once again, you can’t help but wonder how the hell it’s possible for someone’s skin to always feel this damn warm.

While Dean takes over, digging out the last bit of dirt and forcing the coffin underneath open, you prepare the gasoline. As expected, the bones of the ghost you’re hunting lie before you. Dean hops out of the hole, you sprinkle the fuel over the remains, adding salt and setting it ablaze.

Part of you craves to hold your hands over the fire to soak up some of the heat, but that feels a tad too rude. Digging up a corpse and burning it might have become routine for you, but you still knew how to respect the dead. Instead, you wrap your jacket around yourself more tightly.

Dean and you stay for a minute, one of his arms around you as his hand tries to rub some heat to your arm. It’s a quiet night. A slow night. Some moments deserve a pause button.

It’s then you feel something brush against your nose. As you wipe at it, you realize whatever landed on your skin has melted into a little droplet of water.

Your eyes widen as you look up into a starless sky. Yet, it’s not entirely pitch black. Not with the flakes of white falling down on you. They’re almost clumpy, swirling around the air and dusting your’s and Dean’s hair.

“Would you look at that, aren’t we the lucky ones for not having to dig through frost,” Dean hums, removing his arm from your shoulder. He takes off his jacket, draping it over you haphazardly. “And aren’t you the lucky one since Mr. Six Layers of Flannel has some coats to spare.”

You scoff, but can’t stop yourself from giggling all the same. Your cold hand reaches for his warm one, seeking refuge in his palm.

This is definitely one of those romantic freeze-picture-frame moments. As romantic as graveyard outings could be, anyway.

The two of you decide to head back to the motel, where your chilly self is practically pulled to the bed. You literally can’t wait to exchange your current outfit, fabric slightly damp from the snowfall, for a nice fuzzy pajama.

“You can’t be serious,” you snicker as you watch Dean slip under the covers in sweatpants and a damn T-shirt. “Weren’t you complaining about freezing earlier?”

Dean responds with nothing more than a cheeky grin and open arms, inviting you in. He’s unbelievable. With a smile and a sigh, you climb into his embrace and allow him to tuck you against his chest.

“Warm enough?,” he asks without losing that teasing smirk of his.

“Plenty,” you yawn and bury your face in the crook of his neck. If you could, you’d crawl into his skin to stay warm forever.

With his arms around you, not even the relentless amount of snow outside could rattle you. He shields you from the cold seeping through the room’s bad insulation. He makes your skin and heart prickle with enough warmth to lull you into a peaceful sleep.

If only every day of hunting was this calm.

And maybe, with Dean it is.

There’s always something magical about the first snow of the year. A thick blanket of cold, white crystal turns the world more quiet. More tranquil. Peaceful. Outside, the world has paused. And in Dean’s arms, you can relax all the same.

Dean Winchester Taglist: @ladysparkles78 @deaniemyboo @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda

Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist. (Please note: Ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!)

[supernotnatural2005]

Dean Winchester Series/Mini-Series

AN: Here you can find my collection of Dean x Reader series/mini-series. Fics containing adult themes/smut will be marked as such ** (18+ ONLY!!!)

Main Masterlist

MINI SERIES

A Christmas Miracle A Christmas Miracle: Timestamp - First Snow

SERIES

The Meet Cute

[supernotnatural2005]

Aww thank you so much! Im so glad you enjoyed it! They are the sweetest family and deserve all the happiness

A Christmas Miracle: Timestamp - First Snow

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: It was the heaviest snowfall in years and Olivia can’t wait to introduce her favourite person to the magic of Winter season.

Prompt-Mas Day two - First Snow

Word count: 1k

AN: Ahh so i couldn’t leave this little family alone and had to add on a little timestamp. Just so happens it worked perfectly for @chevroletdean Prompt-Mas for the Supernatural Writers Community, i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did writing it 💕

Warnings: Daddy!Dean, again just tooth-rotting fluff

Main Masterlist

~ 2 Years Later ~ The sound of tiny feet pitter-pattering through the bunker was a welcome reminder of just how much had changed in the years since that unforgettable Christmas morning.  Now, a couple of years older, Olivia had taken to being a big sister with all the enthusiasm you could have hoped for. She also got her second wish. You in fact did have a boy, and she got her little brother.  She was practically Bobby's second mother—always looking out for him, sharing her toys, and making sure he felt like the centre of her world.  Dean had been right. The chaos and the love had only multiplied, but it was the kind of mess you wouldn't trade for anything. Today, however, was special. Snowflakes had begun falling softly outside, the first real snow of the season and the last two years. Olivia was practically bouncing off the walls, eager to show Bobby what winter was all about. "Mom! Dad! You have to come see! It’s snowing! It's Bobby’s first snow!" Olivia's voice echoed through the bunker’s halls as she guided a newly walking Bobby to the bunker’s entrance; her excitement contagious.  She had been checking the little window in the garage, which gave, pretty much the only view you had of the outside world, every morning for snowfall.  Dean looked up from his phone and placed it on the map table, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Bobby, now a sturdy two-year-old, stood in Olivia's grasp, his round green eyes wide with curiosity.  You stood from your seat beside Dean, where you’d been nursing your coffee, and joined them by the steps, Dean following shortly after and wrapping his arms around you from behind.  “How’d we make such incredible kids?” You whispered, leaning back into Dean as you watched Olivia help Bobby into his coat. Your heart incredibly warm and full.  “I honestly ask myself that every day, that and how lucky I am to have the three of you.” He mumbled into your neck along with a sweet kiss against your skin. You squeezed the arms wrapped around you in understanding.  Olivia, now pulling on her boots and jacket, glanced over her shoulder at you, her face alight with joy. “He’s gonna love it, Mommy. We can make snowmen, and he can catch snowflakes on his tongue! He’s going to think it’s magic!” Bobby, still mostly unsure of what was happening but sensing the excitement, let out a giggle as his sister placed his sock-monkey hat upon his sandy-blonde locks.  “Well, kiddo,” Dean said, kneeling down beside Olivia and adjusting her own purple-knitted hat. “Looks like you’re in charge of showing him the ropes. How about we all get bundled up and head outside?” Olivia nodded eagerly, already making her way up the steps whilst Dean slipped on his jacket and scooped up Bobby in his arms. “Come on! We gotta hurry before it melts!” You and Dean shared a fond look and both shook your heads at her impatience, but you slipped on your coat and followed Dean up the steps, slipping by him to help unlock the heavy bunker door.  Once outside, you gasped in awe. The snow had fallen heavily, the heaviest it had in years, and the world around you felt like a magical winter wonderland. Flurries of snow fluttered down from the grey sky, and the ground was blanketed with a thick layer of glistening snow. It was beautiful, almost unreal, like something out of a fairytale.

Olivia practically leaped into the snow, spinning around with her arms outstretched, her laughter ringing through the chilly air.  Dean gently placed Bobby on the ground, holding his tiny hands as he took his first tentative steps in the snow. His little boots crunched in the fresh powder, and his wide green eyes followed each falling snowflake in wonder: his tiny face lighting up with delight. "Catch a snowflake, Bobby! Like this!" Olivia crouched down, her mittens catching snowflakes that dissolved almost instantly, her voice bubbling with excitement. Bobby stretched his chubby hands upward, attempting to catch the snowflakes, his face breaking into a grin as the icy crystals melted on his skin. His giggles were music to your ears, a sound so pure, so full of joy. Dean stood beside you, his eyes locked on the children as they explored the wooded area across from the bunker. The weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him. He turned to you, his voice soft. “Can’t believe we’re here. After everything," His words died in his throat as he shook away the past, wanting nothing more than to focus on his future instead. "Just... look at them.” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as the cold air swirled around you. Feeling very much the same as Dean. “I know. We’ve got everything we could ever need.” “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice full of emotion. “Everything.” His arms tightened around you for a brief moment, as if trying to hold on to this perfect moment. As Olivia scooped up a handful of snow to begin building a snowman, Bobby, eagerly trying to imitate her, you couldn’t help but giggle. The playful chaos that followed soon after—a snowball fight between you, Dean, and Olivia—had you laughing so hard, it was as if you were a little kid again yourself.  Wanting, quickly out of the attack, you scooped up Bobby, using him as your immunity from the incoming barrage of snowballs holding him close as he squealed with glee. You stood there, watching the scene unfold around you in a daze, unable to quite believe how far you’d come. After all the pain, all the heartache, you had your family—your happy ending—right here in this moment, in the snow. You held Bobby tightly, feeling his little arms wrap around your neck as he tried to get a better view of his big sister’s snowman, his soft giggles a constant reminder of how beautiful life had become. Dean was right. Despite all the madness, all the fighting, together you had built something unbreakable. A family. Your family.

AN: Okay guys! I hope you enjoyed this little snippet into their lives, are you glad Olivia got her wish for a little brother? And how sweet she is with him 😭

[supernotnatural2005]

A Christmas Miracle: Timestamp - First Snow

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: It's the heaviest snowfall in years and Olivia can’t wait to introduce her favourite person to the magic of the Winter season.

Prompt-Mas Day two - First Snow

Word count: 1k

AN: Ahh so i couldn’t leave this little family alone and had to add on a little timestamp. Just so happens it worked perfectly for @chevroletdean Prompt-Mas for the Supernatural Writers Community, i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did writing it 💕

Warnings: Daddy!Dean, again just tooth-rotting fluff

Read part one HERE!!!

Main Masterlist

~ 2 Years Later ~ The sound of tiny feet pitter-pattering through the bunker was a welcome reminder of just how much had changed in the years since that unforgettable Christmas morning.  Now, a couple of years older, Olivia had taken to being a big sister with all the enthusiasm you could have hoped for. She also got her second wish. You in fact did have a boy, and she got her little brother.  She was practically Bobby's second mother—always looking out for him, sharing her toys, and making sure he felt like the centre of her world.  Dean had been right. The chaos and the love had only multiplied, but it was the kind of mess you wouldn't trade for anything. Today, however, was special. Snowflakes had begun falling softly outside, the first real snow of the season and the last two years. Olivia was practically bouncing off the walls, eager to show Bobby what winter was all about. "Mom! Dad! You have to come see! It’s snowing! It's Bobby’s first snow!" Olivia's voice echoed through the bunker’s halls as she guided a newly walking Bobby to the bunker’s entrance; her excitement contagious.  She had been checking the little window in the garage, which gave, pretty much the only view you had of the outside world, every morning for snowfall.  Dean looked up from his phone and placed it on the map table, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Bobby, now a sturdy two-year-old, stood in Olivia's grasp, his round green eyes wide with curiosity.  You stood from your seat beside Dean, where you’d been nursing your coffee, and joined them by the steps, Dean following shortly after and wrapping his arms around you from behind.  “How’d we make such incredible kids?” You whispered, leaning back into Dean as you watched Olivia help Bobby into his coat. Your heart incredibly warm and full.  “I honestly ask myself that every day, that and how lucky I am to have the three of you.” He mumbled into your neck along with a sweet kiss against your skin. You squeezed the arms wrapped around you in understanding.  Olivia, now pulling on her boots and jacket, glanced over her shoulder at you, her face alight with joy. “He’s gonna love it, Mommy. We can make snowmen, and he can catch snowflakes on his tongue! He’s going to think it’s magic!” Bobby, still mostly unsure of what was happening but sensing the excitement, let out a giggle as his sister placed his sock-monkey hat upon his sandy-blonde locks.  “Well, kiddo,” Dean said, kneeling down beside Olivia and adjusting her own purple-knitted hat. “Looks like you’re in charge of showing him the ropes. How about we all get bundled up and head outside?” Olivia nodded eagerly, already making her way up the steps whilst Dean slipped on his jacket and scooped up Bobby in his arms. “Come on! We gotta hurry before it melts!” You and Dean shared a fond look and both shook your heads at her impatience, but you slipped on your coat and followed Dean up the steps, slipping by him to help unlock the heavy bunker door.  Once outside, you gasped in awe. The snow had fallen heavily, the heaviest it had in years, and the world around you felt like a magical winter wonderland. Flurries of snow fluttered down from the grey sky, and the ground was blanketed with a thick layer of glistening snow. It was beautiful, almost unreal, like something out of a fairytale.

Olivia practically leaped into the snow, spinning around with her arms outstretched, her laughter ringing through the chilly air.  Dean gently placed Bobby on the ground, holding his tiny hands as he took his first tentative steps in the snow. His little boots crunched in the fresh powder, and his wide green eyes followed each falling snowflake in wonder: his tiny face lighting up with delight. "Catch a snowflake, Bobby! Like this!" Olivia crouched down, her mittens catching snowflakes that dissolved almost instantly, her voice bubbling with excitement. Bobby stretched his chubby hands upward, attempting to catch the snowflakes, his face breaking into a grin as the icy crystals melted on his skin. His giggles were music to your ears, a sound so pure, so full of joy. Dean stood beside you, his eyes locked on the children as they explored the wooded area across from the bunker. The weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him. He turned to you, his voice soft. “Can’t believe we’re here. After everything," His words died in his throat as he shook away the past, wanting nothing more than to focus on his future instead. "Just... look at them.” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as the cold air swirled around you. Feeling very much the same as Dean. “I know. We’ve got everything we could ever need.” “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice full of emotion. “Everything.” His arms tightened around you for a brief moment, as if trying to hold on to this perfect moment. As Olivia scooped up a handful of snow to begin building a snowman, Bobby, eagerly trying to imitate her, you couldn’t help but giggle. The playful chaos that followed soon after—a snowball fight between you, Dean, and Olivia—had you laughing so hard, it was as if you were a little kid again yourself.  Wanting, quickly out of the attack, you scooped up Bobby, using him as your immunity from the incoming barrage of snowballs holding him close as he squealed with glee. You stood there, watching the scene unfold around you in a daze, unable to quite believe how far you’d come. After all the pain, all the heartache, you had your family—your happy ending—right here in this moment, in the snow. You held Bobby tightly, feeling his little arms wrap around your neck as he tried to get a better view of his big sister’s snowman, his soft giggles a constant reminder of how beautiful life had become. Dean was right. Despite all the madness, all the fighting, together you had built something unbreakable. A family. Your family.

AN: Okay guys! I hope you enjoyed this little snippet into their lives, are you glad Olivia got her wish for a little brother? And how sweet she is with him 😭