#Jo Harvelle x reader

[jmoonk]

Jo Harvelle x Reader, where the reader has been in love with Jo.

Jo is her best friend, her partner in crime. But Jo doesn't see the way reader's breath catches when she smiles or how reader's chest aches when she flirts with Dean. She has always hated Jo's fleeting relationships, knowing none of them could love her the way she does. It's pathetic, really. Because no matter how close they are, Jo'll never look at reader the way she looks at her.

And God she hates herself for hesitating.

[saltcxrcle]

girls i've never tried ── . ✶ jo harvelle

summary: the two of you were just best friends, right? but then why did jo want to kiss you every time she saw you?

pairings: bi! jo harvelle x bi! reader, jo harvelle x fem!reader, mentioned prev dean x reader, slight implied deanjoノ wc: 4.4k warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', best friends to lovers, jealousy, making out, smut, lots of praise, oral (both receiving), fingering, slightly dom!reader and sub!jo, pet names (baby, honey, pretty girl, good girl, baby girl)<- mostly used by reader, title is a lyric from naked in manhattan by chappell roan which the fic is loosely based on, kinda edited; all mistakes my own a/n: its a crime that there isn't more gay fics for jo so here i am doing my due diligence and providing you guys some jo smut for all of my bi girlies (gn) and lesbians that love jo lol also idk how not yap in my fics lmao but enjoy! jo harvelle masterlist

JO WANTED TO KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE BEING WITH A GIRL. 

More specifically, she wanted to know what it would be like to be with her best friend, you. It was a thought that always crossed her mind, even when she was younger, and the two of you were messing around in her room, giggling at something you guys were reading in a magazine. 

You were her best friend ever since her father died, and your parents had shown up at the Roadhouse to offer their condolences to Ellen when they heard the news. You were a bit older than her but shot her a kind smile that made her stomach flip when you told her that you liked her Sleeping Beauty shirt. 

You practically grew up with Jo and Ellen, and your parents would leave you with her as they went on hunts, so the two of you stuck by each other like glue. Ellen called the pair of you “two peas in a pod.” 

Jo loved how quick-witted you were and how willing you were to teach her about hunting (even if her mom hated that your parents started taking you on hunts when you were just sixteen). But she saw less of you as you went on hunts with your parents before you started to go on your hunts after they had retired. 

You would stop by the Roadhouse occasionally when you could or when you were passing by, never failing to fill Jo in on the hunts you went on or which monsters you had killed in the time that you hadn’t seen her or Ellen. 

She remembers the time right before you stopped coming by as often, telling her how you lost your virginity to this guy named Dean, who had these bright green eyes and plush lips that felt so soft against yours. You mentioned that he was another hunter, and Jo had to bury the little green monster that she felt clawing at her chest as you detailed the experience. 

Jo didn’t know why she was jealous that guy got to be your first, but she chalked it up to not having been able to lose her virginity yet since everyone else around her was, including her best friend. 

But her jealousy almost always took center stage when you came around the Roadhouse and slept over, telling her about the men and women that you would hook up with on the road. Jo would have a fake smile plastered on her face because, apparently, she was a masochist when it came to you and asked you if you had met someone while on a hunt. 

It was only when she saw you flirting with a girl at the bar when you were helping Ellen and Jo out for the night—pouring and serving drinks to the patrons in the Roadhouse. 

God, I wish I was her. Jo thought as she saw you send the girl you were flirting with a sultry smile before the realization hit her like a bolt of lighting, 

Jo knew that she liked men. She just didn’t realize that she also liked women until she saw you wrap your arm around the girl’s waist, sending Jo a wink before the two of you sauntered out of the place once it was closing time. 

Now, it had been a couple of months since she had seen you, and the Winchesters were like a tornado, storming into the Roadhouse and effectively taking you off of her mind. Jo thought she was getting somewhere with Dean even though something about him seemed familiar to her, but she ignored it as she talked to him and refilled his whiskey. 

The door opened to the Roadhouse, and Jo didn’t look up from wiping down the bar, but Dean did, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you walk through the entrance. 

“Well, I’ll be damned, Winchester, didn’t think you knew this place.” You smirked at the sight of the Winchester brothers as you walked over to the bar. 

Jo’s eyes snapped up from what she was doing, her gaze trained on you as you gave Sam a quick side hug as a greeting. 

Dean grabbed your waist and tucked you into his side.  “It’s a small world for us hunters isn’t it?.” Dean joked as he squeezed your arm. “The only reason we come back is because the service is great here.” Dean winked at Jo. 

Jo’s eyes were lasered in on Dean’s arm around you. The familiarity of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. 

You chuckled at Dean’s words.“ You aren’t wrong there Dean.” 

You turned to face your best friend. “Hi Joey!” You greeted Jo with a bright smile. 

“You know the Winchesters?” Jo asked instead of saying hi back to you. 

You nodded, noting the bluntness of her tone, but you would talk to her later. “Yep, ran into Dean a long time ago, but ran into these two on that hunt with the revenant I told you about a while back.” 

Something clicked in Jo’s brain. This was the Dean that had taken your virginity all those years ago. The same Dean she thought she was interested in. Fuck. Of course, out of all people, it had to be him. God must hate me. She thought as she swallowed hard. 

“Ah, I remember now.” She sent you a tight smile. “Did you want your usual?” 

You looked down at your watch. “Not all that into day drinking, I’ll take a root beer though.” 

Jo nodded and went to the mini fridge below the bar to grab the root beer that you only drank when you weren’t feeling up to alcohol. She ignored the rush of relief that went through her when you finally pulled away from Dean’s side as you sat on the barstool in between Sam and Dean. Jo also ignored how her heart rate picked up when your fingers brushed against hers as she handed you your drink. 

The four of you fell into a conversation, but Jo barely participated. Witnessing the rapport between you and the Winchesters made her skin crawl as comfortable exchanges of touches between you and Dean made her burn with jealousy. Jealous of who? Jo could barely tell anymore. 

Sam noticed how quiet Jo was and how she was staring intently at you and Dean. He didn’t know what her problem was today. Still, regardless of her sudden silence, he tried to involve her in the conversation as best he could. Still, she gave short answers, which made you raise an eyebrow at her. 

But before you could question her attitude, customers started to file in, and the evening rush began for the Roadhouse. You decided to help out, hopping behind the bar and making drinks for the boys and other patrons. You had tried to talk to Jo in between serving and making drinks, but she managed to avoid you by going around, taking orders, and going to the kitchen. 

You huffed but let it go, figuring that something else earlier in the day had set her off. Sam and Dean left right before closing, promising you that they would text you if they needed help on their next hunt. Soon after they left, you made the last call before the Roadhouse closed. 

Once everything was cleaned up, Jo was nowhere to be seen, and you sighed. That girl was moody, and you were going to find out why. 

You quickly made your way to Jo’s room and found her sitting at her vanity, already dressed for bed and beginning to pull her hair up. 

“So, are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass and died?” You asked Jo as you leaned against her door frame. 

You heard her scoff. “It’s nothing.” 

“It doesn’t sound like “nothing”.” You kicked off of her door frame, toeing your boots off before walking further into her room and sitting on her bed. “Come on Jo, talk to me! You barely spoke to me today.” 

Jo said your name tiredly. “It’s just been a long day.” 

“Then it’s the perfect time to talk about it.” 

“I’d rather not right now.” Jo’s words came out clipped as she stood up from her vanity, aiming to go to the other side of her room to pull out socks from her dresser. 

But before she could, you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. You stood up from the bed and tried to meet her eyes. 

“Jo, please, talk to me.” You pleaded softly. You could tell something was bothering her, and you just wanted to know what it was. “Is it because I didn’t check for a while?”

She shook her head, looking away from you. Jo debated on what to tell you. “Why didn’t you tell me that Dean Winchester was the guy that took your virginity?” 

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other until today. Besides, why does that matter? That happened so long ago.” 

Jo couldn’t look at you, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t want to admit to anything she wasn’t ready to face head-on. She ripped her wrist from your grip. 

“I told you it’s nothing. Can you just leave it?” Jo went back on her path towards her dresser, but you blocked her from even taking a step. 

“No, because I’m trying to talk to my best friend but she won’t even give me the time of day right now.” 

“And that’s my problem!” Jo’s outburst shocked you, your stomach dropping to your ass. 

A tense silence settled between you and her. 

“What do you mean?” You whispered. 

Jo sighed. “You’ve always been my best friend. But seeing you with Dean today, set me off.” 

“I-i do you like Dean? Is that why you’ve been acting short with me?” You swallowed thickly. 

You’ve always liked Jo ever since you realized that you like both girls and boys but kept that hidden from her—never once getting the vibe that she swung both ways. You liked Dean, but he was like your best friend, and you both had agreed that the first time was fun, but that time would be the only time the two of you would hook up. 

“No. I don’t think I do. All I know is that I was jealous that Dean got to have you and I-” Jo shut her mouth before she admitted her feelings for you. But the damage was already done. 

“And you what?” Your heart started to pound in your chest. “You cannot leave me hanging here Jo.” 

Jo bit her bottom lip, your gaze straying to her lips before you met her brown eyes once more. 

“I wished that I could have you in the same way Dean did.” Jo’s words were quiet, but they sounded deafening to your ears. 

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. “You could, you know?” 

“What?” Jo’s head was spinning at your words but also at the sight of the sly smile on your face. Her breath hitched as you stepped closer to her, your warm hands landing on her waist. 

“I’ve liked you for a long time Jo. If you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked, you know?” 

Jo’s heart felt like it could escape from out of her chest cavity. “I like you too. I wasn’t sure if it was in a friendly way or not.” 

You smiled at her as you leaned closer to Jo. “Well I’m glad it isn’t. Can I kiss you pretty girl?” Your breath was fanning over her lips, rubbing your nose against her as you saw her pretty brown eyes flutter. 

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy and filled with want. 

You wasted no time pressing your lips against Jo’s. Her lips were so soft and pliant as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but push your lips against hers harder, pouring all of the years of secret yearning into it. 

Jo moaned against your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck as you pushed her backward until her knees hit the edge of her bed. Jo fell backward, breaking the kiss the two of you were sharing. She shuddered at the sight of your dark eyes, filled with desire, as you drank in the sight of her slightly swollen lips. 

Jo was dressed in some pajama shorts with a tight, long-sleeve shirt, and you could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, her nipples showing through the thin fabric. You internally groaned at the sight, but you crawled on top of the bed, making her crawl up it until her head hit her pillows. 

You hovered over her, cupping Jo’s face with one of your hands as you took in how the warm lighting from her lamp highlighted her features. “You’re so pretty.” You breathed out. 

Jo blushed at your praise, making you grin at the sight of her reddening cheeks. You leaned down and kissed her again—wanting to feel her soft lips against yours once more. Her kisses were addictive, and you were so sure that the taste of her would have you hooked on her indefinitely. 

You took the lead, swiping your tongue at the seam of Jo’s lips and groaning softly when you felt her tongue shyly dance with yours. Shit, she was so sweet, and you were going to have fun with her. 

Your free hand started to roam, cupping her breast through her shirt, squeezing it slightly. She let out the cutest squeak against your mouth, making you chuckle. 

“Is this okay?” You asked when you pulled away from her now swollen lips. 

“Yeah.” Jo answered with a small pant to her words. 

You ducked your head down, planting small kisses on her jaw before trailing down and nipping at the soft skin of her neck. Jo’s hands grabbed your biceps, squeezing as she let out the softest moan like she was afraid to be loud. The sound sent a wave of arousal through you and made you nip harder at her neck. 

“Don’t be afraid to be loud. Wanna hear you, honey.” You murmured into her skin, and you made your way to her collarbone, moving your hand from her breast and pulling the collar of her already low-cut shirt to suck at her chest. 

Jo continued to let out breathy moans, but they were louder this time around, and it was like music to your ears. The hand that was on her cheek moved to play with the hem of her shorts, but she grabbed your wrist. 

You looked at Jo, pulling away from her chest to look at her, her eyes wide and filled with nerves. 

“I-I’ve never been with a girl before.” 

Something inside of you purred at her words. This was a little archaic, but you were glad that you were going to be the first girl that she’d have sex with. 

“S’fine. Just relax, I’ll take care of you pretty girl.” You promised. 

Jo swallowed thickly before nodding. You kissed her softly, your hands tugging at the hem of her shirt. She got the memo and raised her arms up as you took off her shirt, exposing her bare chest to you. 

She resisted the urge to hide from your reverent stare. “God, you’re gorgeous Jo. So, so pretty.” You couldn’t help but praise her—pressing soft kisses down her chest and stomach before your lips hit the hem of her shorts. 

“Can I take these off?” Your fingers were hooked on the waistband of her shorts. 

She nodded again. But you shook your head. 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, you can take them off.” Jo’s words were rushed, clearly eager—any previous shyness dissipated as arousal flooded her veins. 

“Good girl.” You said before pulling her shorts, along with her underwear, down her legs, exposing her cunt to the cool air of the room. 

“Fuck.” You cursed at the sight of Jo’s bare center. There was a small patch of dark blonde hair at her pubic bone, and it was the most amazing sight you’ve ever seen. 

You settled between her open legs, your gaze on Jo’s cunt. Jo saw the hunger in your eyes, and she felt like you could devour her whole. She shivered in anticipation as your hands gripped her thighs. 

“Always knew you were going to have a pretty pussy. Bet it looks as good as it tastes.” You pressed teasing kisses to Jo’s inner thighs. She almost squirmed at the feeling—her hands grabbing at her sheets, wanting to feel your mouth on her. 

You leaned in closer to her pussy—it was practically glistening in the low light as you blew cool air on it, making Jo’s cunt clench around nothing. You laughed lightly at the small squeak that Jo made. Her hips canted forward—Jo wanted, no, needed to feel your mouth devouring her. 

“Did you need something baby?” You looked up from her wet slit to meet the pleading brown gaze of Jo. God, you hadn’t done anything, and she already looked fucked out. 

Jo whined. “Please.” She whispered. 

“Please what?” You knew you were being a bit mean, teasing her like this but it was too hard not to. “I need to hear you say it baby.” 

“Please put your mouth on me.” 

You grinned against her inner thigh, planting another kiss there. “My mouth is on you baby. You gotta be more specific.” 

Jo almost growled in frustration, her hand moving from the bed to grab the back of your head and shove you closer to her leaking cunt. “Need your mouth on my pussy.” 

“Wasn’t that easy?” You said before licking a wide strip from her slit to her clit. 

Jo let out a pleasured sigh from the feeling of your tongue finally on her aching cunt. You softly licked at her, swirling your tongue around her sensitive clit before wrapping your lips around it, suckling at the bundle of nerves softly. 

Moans left her pretty mouth, her noises spurring you on to continue your mission to get her to come around your mouth. You ate her out messily, uncaring of her slick getting all over your chin and mouth. She tasted so good. A mix of tang and musk flooded your senses as you licked at her slit, your nose buried in the soft hair at the top of her mound. 

Your dominant hand left her thigh as you pulled away from her. A little whine left her mouth in the midst of her moans. Your hand made its way to run through her wet fold, slicking up your fingers. 

“That feels good honey?” You nipped at her thigh, rubbing at her clit with your slicked-covered fingertips.  

“Uh huh.” Jo nodded furiously, her hair mussing up from the action. 

You slapped at her clit lightly, making her hip twitch at the sensation. “Words.” You reminded Jo before prodding at her entrance with your middle finger. 

“Yes! Feels so good, please.” Jo didn’t know what she was pleading for. All she knew was that she wanted to come. 

You didn’t respond, letting your finger slip into her warm pussy and feeling her gummy walls contract around it. Your mouth sealed around her clit again as your finger slowly moved in her. It didn’t take long for Jo’s moans to fill the room again. You could feel your underwear sticking to your absolutely drenched cunt, but you kept your focus on Jo, wanting to wring any and all bit of pleasure out of her. 

Your middle finger was soon joined by your ring finger. “S’tight baby. Can barely move my fingers with how hard you’re clenching around them.” 

Your words filled Jo’s lower belly with heat as her hips moved in tandem with your fingers, meeting your slow thrusts. 

Jo could feel the familiar burn building through her body when she thought of this very moment with her own fingers buried in her pussy alone in her room. 

“You’re close aren’t you? Can feel you clench around my fingers, you gonna come for me?” Your fingers found the spongy spot that she could never find herself and made a come hither motion, brushing against the spot each time your fingers moved in and out of her. 

Jo’s moans became higher and more frequent, and she was so close to cumming. But she was still missing something, and you could tell. You sealed your lips against her swollen clit and sucked hard. Jo let out a moan that almost sounded like a wail as she clenched around your fingers, gushing all over them and your face as heat filled her body and stars danced behind her eyes. 

You worked her through her orgasm, removing your fingers when her walls stopped clenching around them, and your tongue gently moved through her sensitive folds. You pressed one last kiss to her clit before trailing your lips up her soft skin, hovering over her and petting at her hair. 

“There she is.” You said before dipping down and kissing her tenderly. Jo thought it would be weird to taste herself on her lips, but if anything, it spurred her on. She pressed her lips hard against yours as her hands pawed at your shirt, wanting it off. You laughed at her eagerness and broke the kiss to help her take it off. 

Soon enough, you found yourself naked and in Jo’s position—on your back as she was hovering over you and squeezing at your breasts as she kissed you. You moaned in her mouth as she pinched at your nipples before she tore her mouth away from you and moved down your neck and chest. 

Jo made her way down your body, the lust-fueled confidence slowly ebbing away when she was in between your legs and staring at your bare center. There was a hunger in her brown gaze, but it was overshadowed by nerves and hesitancy. 

“Hey.” You called at her softly, sitting up and cupping her face. “Do whatever feels right.” 

“But what if-” 

“You’ll do fine, baby.” You cut her off. “I’ll guide you if you need it okay?” Your thumb swiped at her cheek before kissing her softly as reassurance. 

Jo melted into the kiss before you broke it. You sent her a tender smile before laying back and moving your hands to her hair, pushing the blonde strands out of her face. 

Jo took a deep breath before settling in between your legs. She decided to mirror what you did to her, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before reaching your clit and kissing it. A quiet moan left your lips, spurring Jo on. 

She pressed a more demanding kiss to your clit before her tongue darted out and licked at it. Another moan left your lips, and Jo decided to go for it, using her tongue to swipe through your slit and taste you fully. 

“Ah, doing so well Jo.” You praised as she sucked at your clit, her doe-like eyes looking up at you sent another bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. 

You could tell that she was inexperienced with her tongue, but she made up for it in eagerness. Your hands were wound in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp—making her moan against your cunt. The vibrations felt delicious against your cunt, and you couldn’t help but grind against her face. 

“Jo baby, use your fingers like I did.” You ordered breathlessly. 

Jo complied, bringing her slender fingers to your spit–slicked entrance and slipped one of them in. 

“Another one baby, please.” You were wet enough that you didn’t need to be prepped. Jo slipped another one in you, and you sighed at the feeling of being filled by her fingers. 

“Okay, use your pretty mouth on my clit and move your fingers like this,” You directed Jo, simulating the motion you did for her. 

Jo nodded and started to put your instructions to use. She sucked and licked at your swollen clit and moved her fingers inside of you. You were letting out moans and whines, praises spilling from your lips. 

Jo keened at the praise, doubling down on your pussy. Her ministrations were enthusiastic, a little uncoordinated, but it was still bringing you closer to the edge. You would let Jo practice on you whenever she wanted. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come.” 

Jo really wanted to make you feel good as you made her feel. She shook her head, moving her fingers faster, brushing against your g-spot. 

“Shit! Doing so well f’me baby girl, keep going. So so close.” You moaned out, pushing her face further into your cunt. Jo kept at her pace, feeling your walls clenching and twitching around her fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You came hard around Jo’s fingers and mouth. Jo continued at her pace, working you through your orgasm, and you had to push Jo away from you as she continued to move her fingers inside of you and licking at your pussy, bordering overstimulation. 

“Come here.” You beckoned, sitting up and meeting Jo in the middle, pulling her into a filthy kiss. 

“Did so well baby girl, haven’t come that hard in a while.” You praised her as you pulled away and caressed her sides. 

Jo flushed at your praise and smiled at you. She kissed you again before worry flared up inside of her. 

“This isn’t a one time thing for you is it?” Jo asked as she broke the kiss. 

You pulled her down to lay beside you. You were facing her, your hand resting on the side of her neck. “No it’s not.” You reassured her. “M’not letting you go now that I have you. Is it for you?” 

Jo breathed out a sigh of relief before shaking her head. “No, never was.” 

You sent her a dazzling smile, making her heart almost skip a beat. Jo couldn’t help but smile back at you before you kissed her, but the two of you were still smiling so wide that it could barely qualify as a kiss. 

The two of you never wanted to leave the blissful bubble of her room. The rest of the night was filled with soft caresses and quiet conversation about your hunts—a warmth settled in both yours and Jo’s chest. Everything felt right. and Jo couldn’t help but think she wanted to stay like this with you forever. Little did she know you were thinking the exact same thing. 

[samsblades]

girlfriend headcanons — jo harvelle

cw : gn!reader, kissing, knife mentions, sparring mentions, general physical affection, playful insults, she's super cute, 1.6K words. requested !

summary : just gf hcs! she deserves so much more love agh!!

✶.◟ in first encounters, she can be both flirty and closed off all at once

✶.◟ but it’s not too hard to get her to soften and open up to you

✶.◟ her smiles turn from polite or sarcastic to toothy and wide, pretty and genuine

✶.◟ she’s definitely still flirty and sassy when you’re dating, but it always ends with her smiling wide, or even giving you a fully belly laugh that makes your heart skip a beat

✶.◟ she’d really appreciate someone that doesn’t pressure her to be perfectly mature at all times, but has their own way of motivating her to learn and develop as a person

✶.◟ and in that vein, she really needs someone who understands and sees all sides of her

✶.◟ even if she’s young and that can show sometimes, she’s always been highly intelligent, witty, and brave

✶.◟ she loves it so much when you really appreciate her intelligence and sarcastic humor

✶.◟ and she really enjoys a balance of goofing off together as well as having long debates or stimulating conversations

✶.◟ it’s just generally really important to her that you see her for all that she is and take the time to understand her as a complicated person, rather than just someone who can be a little reckless and emotionally irrational

✶.◟ these things aren’t completely untrue, but you understand her to be so much more than that and it makes her so much more in love with you

✶.◟ she doesn’t like if you’re too protective of her, but she does enjoy a dynamic where you’re protective of each other

✶.◟ she’s definitely quite protective of you and would never hesitate to jump into a fight in your honor or to physically protect you

✶.◟ and she does like to know that you’d do the same for her; she likes a healthy amount of protectiveness over her because she likes the security of it, as well as it’s indication of how much you care about her

✶.◟ if you’re interested, she would love to either teach you some hand to hand combat or trade tips/spare together <3

✶.◟ she thinks it’s both very fun, as well as definitely hot when one of you has the other pinned to the floor

✶.◟ honestly, whether it’s you or her pinned to the floor, it always brings a cocky, pleased smirk to her lips, as if this was her goal all along

✶.◟ besides the thrill and entertainment she gets from sparing with anyone, it probably was indeed her goal to end up in this position

✶.◟ she can get quite competitive, and it really helps the both of you improve your combat skills

✶.◟ it also means that you’re both very in tune with each other when fighting side by side, you’re always better together

✶.◟ also back to one of you having the other pinned to the floor hehe… if she’s got you trapped, she definitely leans down to kiss you

✶.◟ and if you’ve got her trapped, the smirk on her lips and look in her eyes is more likely than not enough to convince you to indulge her with a kiss, too

✶.◟ and yes, it’s very likely that it will just devolve into making out right then and there

✶.◟ she just really loves a good combination of something a little rough, like teasing or sparing or sarcasm, paired with some soft of expression of love

✶.◟ a teasing comment along with a soft smile and her hand slipping into yours

✶.◟ a dark joke followed by a kiss to your cheek

✶.◟ her flicking her favorite knife in one hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with her other and her pretty lips moving as she tells you she loves you

✶.◟ saying things like, “you’re such an idiot. i love you,” or “you’re pretty cute for a total dork,” to each other, probably with the biggest heart eyes ever

✶.◟ call her a nerd with a loving smile, i promise it’ll make her laugh and kiss you

✶.◟ and of course have to she’ll tease you back first by calling you a bigger nerd or some silly insult like

✶.◟ yeah being lovingly mean to each other is definitely one of her love languages

✶.◟ she definitely enjoys physical contact in tandem with that as mentioned

✶.◟ but she loves just straight up sweet cuddles and kisses and hand holding

✶.◟ she’s likely quite obsessed with kissing you and could never get enough

✶.◟ she will initiate a lot of physical affection, but she really likes if you do too if you’re that kind of person

✶.◟ she’s not huge on pda, but she doesn’t mind it too much honestly

✶.◟ like she doesn’t care if you’re in public, she’ll happily give you a peck on the lips, definitely will hold your hand without a second thought

✶.◟ only cares about pda if it makes you uncomfortable, then she’ll be careful and reserved about it

✶.◟ a much more thoughtful lover than some might peg her to be

✶.◟ yes, she can be very lighthearted and silly and fun about it

✶.◟ but she’s a very committed lover and isn’t the type to just fool around

✶.◟ especially considering her past experiences with love when she was younger, it’s really important to her to know that you’re committed too

✶.◟ she can be the type to fall hard and fast, but her love lasts and she can wait for you as long as you need her to

✶.◟ she’s also the type to grow a lot in a relationship; she’s always finding opportunities to learn about herself and you and become the best lover for you

✶.◟ she really likes feeling like she’s on a journey with you and that you’re safe constants for each other throughout that journey

✶.◟ she’s very honest too, calls you out on anything that she thinks you should be and expects and appreciates if you do the same!

✶.◟ not in a confrontational way, just in the sense that she’s frank and likes to be transparent with people

✶.◟ she’s not going to let either of you pretend about anything and it’s almost always beneficial because she’s keeping your relationship open and honest

✶.◟ of course, she respects your boundaries and understands you don’t have to tell her everything, but she really values honesty and clear effort

✶.◟ she just really values authenticity too so it’s really important for her to have a space with you where she can be herself freely

✶.◟ generally, she is confident, but she hasn’t always had the space to be silly, playful, sweet, and dorky

✶.◟ because in my heart of hearts jo is definitely a dork and a nerd <3

✶.◟ and she just really loves that she can be that way around you

✶.◟ and she’s like a literal puppy dog, she will so purposefully widen those big brown eyes at you to get what she wants

✶.◟ and it absolutely works every time!! how could you resist her pretty sweet face?? you can’t!

✶.◟ she also just gets really excited to spend time with you, she can be all playful and bouncy and eager like a puppy and it’s genuinely the cutest thing ever

✶.◟ yes she is a mature adult woman with a witty, sarcastic sense of humor and a set of mean fists!

✶.◟ but she is also your babygirl and you just bring out her more playful and giddy side

✶.◟ she’s always resting her head on your shoulder and playing with your fingers

✶.◟ or kissing your cheek or dragging you along to show you something

✶.◟ just imagine her falling asleep with her head in your lap as you play with her hair :,)

✶.◟ she’s a huge sucker for that, for sure <3

✶.◟ another one of her love languages is definitely knives

✶.◟ in my heart of hearts she actually is really interested not just in the knives themselves but in their history and types and even supernatural lore

✶.◟ so she tells you all about it and shows off her knife collection with such a proud smile and is so excited when you like it too

✶.◟ glares at you jokingly if you get something wrong about her knives though lol

✶.◟ she’s like “babe, i taught you about this, c’mon.”

✶.◟ and you’re the only one she shares certain knives with because she’s normally protective of them, but she lets you do anything you like

✶.◟ jo most definitely teaches you how to do tricks with knives if you’re interested

✶.◟ or is just immediately extra in love with you if you have previous knowledge/experience with knives she’s thinks it’s so hot

✶.◟ overall, she’s a very sweet lover who’s a lot of fun to have around and isn’t afraid to express her feelings to you and makes sure you know she loves you

✶.◟ always leaning into you or trying to be close to you

✶.◟ she likes to wear the shirts or jeans she knows that you like the best to tease you or get you worked up

✶.◟ and at the same times gets flustered when you compliment her excessively (but never wants you to stop)

✶.◟ you’re in for lots of laughs and cuddles and late night drinks together

✶.◟ lots of cheek kisses and her hands sneaking up your shirt, or her excited voice telling you fun facts she wouldn’t reveal to anyone else that she knows

✶.◟ basically she’s a huge sweetheart and she’s the perfect mix between playful and lighthearted and serious and committed <3

[hobiespick]

rules for requesting

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN) :)

characters I will write for (romantically/plantonically):

I usually write self-insert or just babble about the character (whatever you want🫶)

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Jo Harvelle

more characters will probably be added!

what genre I will write:

fluff

pre-series

hurt/comfort

AU (alternate universe)

angst

suggestive

what genre i won't write:

nsfw

I can write it as...

A headcanon/ a few headcanons

A one-shot

A drabble (beware that I may go past my word limit, I have things to say ‼️)

if you want to req a fic just go to my inbox and leave it there <3

P.S: I am allowed to refuse to write something if I don't feel comfortable writing it.

love y'all 💞🫶

[saltcxrcle]

THIS ATE DOWNNNN LIZ !!

BOAF BOAF BOAF BOAF AT THE SAME DAMN TIME RAHHHHH

god this was hot jesus i need the both of them so bad ohh godd its such a good day to be queer 🙌🙌 no bc i need to be passed around those two so badly and i wish we had more content of these ladies in the show and interactions between them 🤭

Burning between us - Jo Harvelle + Ruby

Ruby x female!reader x Jo

A night of tension, desire, and control unfolds as Ruby and Jo take turns with you.

Content warnings ; smut, little bit of boob play, threesome, fingering, grinding, masturbation, finger sucking, dom!ruby, multiple orgasms

Word count ; 2,467

Minors PLEASE do not interact !!!

The motel room is dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. The only sound is the quiet hum of the AC and the occasional soft breath between the three of you. Ruby’s gaze never leaves yours, her body just inches away as she stands above you. She’s teasing, waiting for the perfect moment, knowing exactly how to make you ache with need.

“You’ve been so good tonight,” Ruby whispers, her voice low and full of command. Her fingers trace the curve of your arm, down to your side, testing the waters. “But I think you want more, don’t you?”

You nod, breath shallow, already feeling the heat build inside you. Every inch of her touch is electric, and you can’t help but want more.

Ruby’s lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. “Good girl,” she purrs. She doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead capturing your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you slowly, teasingly. Her hands are on you almost immediately, gripping you in ways that make your pulse race.

But before you can lose yourself in her, you feel the presence of someone else in the room. You turn your head slightly to see Jo standing in the doorway, watching. Her eyes are dark, hungry, taking in every detail as Ruby continues to kiss you, her hands moving lower. Jo doesn’t say a word; she doesn’t have to. You can feel the intensity of her gaze, the way she’s absorbing every moment.

Ruby pulls back slightly, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she notices Jo’s presence. “She’s mine right now, Jo,” Ruby murmurs, her voice dripping with mischief. “You can have your turn soon.”

Jo steps forward, her movements slow and deliberate. Her body is all strength, power, and control. As she nears, she doesn’t look at you—her gaze is fixed on Ruby, silently acknowledging the shift in power.

Jo’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’m not waiting,” she growls, her voice rough, thick with desire.

Ruby chuckles softly, her hands still teasing your skin. “Take your time, Jo. We’ve got all night.”

But Jo’s patience is thin. Without a word, she’s on the bed beside you, her hands moving to your clothes, tugging them off with urgency, her fingers leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

As Ruby watches, Jo’s lips descend to your neck, leaving soft, possessive kisses. You can feel her breath on your skin, the heat of her body against yours as she presses into you, her hands roaming with confidence.

“Tell us you want this,” Jo whispers, her voice hushed but demanding. “Tell us you want us.”

You gasp at her words, your breath quickening. “I want you both,” you breathe, your voice trembling. “Please.”

Ruby smirks, satisfied, and slides down your body slowly, her hands never leaving your skin. As she moves lower, Jo’s lips find yours, kissing you hard, her hands pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until your entire body responds.

Ruby’s hands find their way between your legs, and you can’t help but gasp as her fingers slip into you, teasing you with a soft touch. “You’re so fucking perfect, so wet,” Ruby whispers, her breath warm against your skin as she strokes you with careful precision.

Jo watches from above, her eyes dark, her body tense with need. She’s enjoying this—watching you unravel beneath Ruby’s touch, and the sight of it only stokes her own hunger.

Ruby glances at Jo, a wicked grin on her lips. “She’s almost there,” Ruby purrs. “You ready, Jo?”

Jo nods, moving with purpose, her hands slipping under your body, lifting you slightly as she positions herself, her lips descending to your ear. “We’re not done with you yet, sweetheart,” Jo murmurs. “Not by a long shot.”

Ruby’s fingers move faster, her movements becoming more urgent, but still calculated—she’s not letting you finish yet. Jo’s hands come down onto your chest, pinning you in place as she watches Ruby’s every move, kneading at your perky tits.

The pressure builds, and you can’t hold back anymore. You’re trembling under them, your body aching for release, but Ruby pulls away, leaving you gasping, needy.

“You’ve got to wait,” Ruby says softly, her voice commanding but almost sweet in its wickedness. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Jo’s hands slide lower, finding your waist, and she pulls you into her, her body hovering above you as she positions herself just where you need her. You gasp, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“You’re going to feel both of us don’t you worry,” Jo whispers, her voice dripping with authority as she moves against you, grinding slowly, deliberately. Your body arches toward her, desperate for the release Ruby is so cruelly denying you.

The room is thick with heat and tension as Jo continues to move against you, her rhythm slow at first, but she doesn’t hold back for long. Her hands grip your body, pulling you closer, her kisses becoming fiercer as she dominates the moment.

Ruby leans back, watching with hungry eyes, her fingers still trailing along her own body, waiting for her turn. The heat between the three of you is intoxicating, and as Jo’s rhythm intensifies, you feel yourself unraveling, your body betraying you with each movement.

Ruby slips her fingers into her own heat, wet from watching the both of you, from hearing the way both you and Jo’s skin sounded against each other as Jo grinned her clit down to yours. She leans down to kiss you, her tongue moving all throughout your mouth, moaning into it while she pushed her fingers into her at the same time as Jo was grinding down into you.

“She wants it,” Ruby murmurs pulling away from your mouth, her voice dark, thick with desire. “She’s going to come for us.”

And you do—your body shuddering beneath Jo’s, every inch of you trembling as the pressure finally breaks, and you give in to the release you’ve been aching for.

Jo’s lips are on yours again, claiming you with the force of her kiss as Ruby watches,her fingers still in her, but her gaze never leaving you as she comes as well.

And as you lie there, spent and breathless, Ruby leans over, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, sticking her fingers into your mouth to lick up all of the the sticky liquid that coated them. She tasted so good, sweet, which was ironic considering her personality but you didn’t care, you sucked it off all of of them.

“Not done yet, sweetheart,” Ruby growls, her voice low and commanding. She’s moving toward you with purpose, her fingers leaving your mouth and trailing lightly over your skin as she positions herself above you.

You’re still riding the aftershocks, your body still sensitive from Jo’s touch, but Ruby doesn’t give you time to rest. Her hands grip your sides, holding you in place as she lowers herself onto you. Her lips are on yours in an instant, a fierce kiss that makes you melt into her, her tongue claiming you as she deepens the kiss.

“You’re going to feel me now,” Ruby whispers between kisses, her words a command more than a suggestion.

You can barely catch your breath as Ruby moves her hands down your body, urging you to meet her every shift and grind. She’s in full control, her pace fast and unrelenting as she makes sure you’re reacting to every inch of her.

The tension between the three of you is never truly gone—it’s just waiting, simmering under the surface, ready to build again. Ruby watches you with dark eyes, savoring every second, every gasp that escapes your lips.

“Tell me you want it,” Ruby murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, her voice thick with desire. “Tell me you need me like this.”

You shudder, every inch of your body aching for her. Your head is spinning, and you’re losing yourself to her, to the way she makes you feel. “I want it,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you, Ruby.”

A dark smile curls at the corners of Ruby’s lips as she hears your words. She’s pushing you toward the edge, but not quite letting you fall yet. She wants to feel you squirm under her control.

“You’re mine,” Ruby says, her voice rough and filled with authority. Her fingers dig into your skin, holding you in place as she moves faster, deeper. The pressure is building, and you can barely focus on anything but her touch, her presence overwhelming you.

Jo sits off to the side of the bed, her hands resting in her lap as she watches Ruby take control. Her eyes are dark with desire, but she doesn’t rush in. She enjoys seeing the way Ruby makes you ache, how she forces you to feel every bit of her dominance. The atmosphere in the room is thick, electric, and Jo can’t help but admire the way Ruby owns the moment.

Ruby’s breath comes faster now as she drives into you with even more urgency. She’s relentless, pulling you into every moment, making sure you feel every second of her. Your body moves against her, desperate to find some release, but she doesn’t allow it. She’s in control, and you’ll get what she gives you—nothing more, nothing less.

“You’re doing so well,” Ruby whispers, her hands never leaving you, her body shifting in rhythm with yours. “You’re going to break for me, aren’t you?”

The tension is unbearable, and your body is on the verge of collapsing under the pressure. Ruby is so close, her grip firm as she positions you just right. And then, with a sharp thrust, the pressure snaps, and you come undone, your body trembling as the release floods through you.

But Ruby doesn’t stop. She keeps moving, pushing you past your limits, making sure you feel every inch of her as your breath comes in shallow gasps.

As you lie there, breathless and spent, Ruby leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re perfect,” she whispers, her voice a soft growl, before she pulls back slightly, her eyes locked on you. “But I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.”

The room feels like it’s closing in, and every breath you take is thick with anticipation. Your body is still trembling from Ruby’s last movements, your mind hazy from the overwhelming pleasure she’s brought you. But she’s not finished yet. Her gaze never leaves yours, her eyes dark with hunger, full of that same possessive fire.

Ruby shifts down your body, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she moves. You can’t help but gasp, your body already reacting to her as she positions herself just where you need her. Her fingers trace the lines of your skin as she leans down, her breath hot against your body. You feel her movements before you even see her—slow, deliberate, but full of that same intensity.

���You’re so fucking perfect,” Ruby murmurs, her voice low, almost rough with desire. She moves between your legs, her hands spreading you open as she hovers above you. Her eyes flick up to yours, dark and full of command. “Don’t hold back this time. I want to hear you.”

You nod, your breath shallow as you feel the weight of her presence, her dominance overwhelming every inch of you. Ruby’s fingers trace the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before she moves in, her lips barely brushing against your most sensitive spot, teasing and slow. Your body responds instantly, every nerve alive, and you can’t hold back the soft moan that escapes your lips.

Ruby’s grin widens, pleased with your reaction. She continues, her movements sure and controlled, taking her time to make you feel every inch of her touch. You’re so close to breaking, but she doesn’t rush it.

From beside you, Jo watches with dark eyes, her breath heavy as she steps forward, her own desire evident in the way she moves. She doesn’t interrupt, though. She watches Ruby work, the tension building with each movement. Jo’s gaze flicks from Ruby to you, hungry and possessive.

Ruby’s hands grip your thighs as she moves with purpose, her lips now pressing harder against you. You can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the waves of pleasure building inside you. Ruby’s pace is deliberate, driving you closer to the edge, but she’s still holding back just enough to make you ache.

Jo moves closer now, her fingers tracing over your body, exploring, teasing. Her hands move up to your chest, finding your breasts, and she caresses gently, adding a new layer to the sensations. Your body is overloaded with the touch of both of them, and the combination of Ruby’s expert control and Jo’s teasing is driving you to the brink of madness.

Ruby pulls back for just a moment, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she watches you, your body trembling beneath her. “Look at you,” she says, her voice thick with desire. “So fucking desperate. You want to come for us, don’t you?”

You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you answer, “Please, Ruby… I need you.”

Ruby doesn’t wait for a second longer. She moves back in, her tongue finding you again, deeper this time, her movements faster, more urgent. And just when you think you can’t handle it, Jo’s fingers slip between your legs, teasing just where Ruby’s mouth isn’t, adding to the tension, making sure you can’t escape the heat that’s building.

The pressure is unbearable. You’re on the edge, trembling, your body bucking against them as both Ruby and Jo take their turns, their touch relentless, synchronized in a way that makes you feel owned, claimed, and wanted. You can’t think—there’s nothing left but the way they make you feel, the fire they’ve sparked inside of you.

Finally, Ruby pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction. “Go ahead,” she whispers, her voice a growl. “Come for us. Let go.”

And with that, you break, your body shaking as you give in to the overwhelming sensation, the release tearing through you as both Ruby and Jo keep you held in place, making sure you feel every second.

As the room settles, your body still trembling, Ruby leans over you, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’re perfect,” she murmurs, her voice full of satisfaction. Jo leans down as well, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you feel the warmth of their presence surround you, holding you close in the aftermath.

Jo pulls you into her arms after, her body warm against yours, as Ruby settles beside you, both of them basking in the aftermath of the fire they’ve ignited within you.

Liz talks : this was definitely new for me to write LMFAO also it’s mostly Ruby MY APOLOGIES I also have no clue how accurate this stuff is so if anyone of this is wrong I didn’t see it. Also trust I’m gonna start writing solo stuff for Jo soon so this won’t be last of her🙏 I hope yall liked this and any kind of feedback is appreciated!!!

Tag list : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @samsblades , @multiversefanfics , @jesstherebel , @g0away-tate , @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

To be added to my taglist to stay updated on any future posts of mine please check out this post !!

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean has a conflicting dream about you, his best friend, that has him questioning feelings he'd never allowed to see the light of day before. However, he might not be the only one…

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, feelings, some spicy times, nothing too heavy...

AN: Happy Release day!!🎉 Honestly, i can’t thank you all enough for the excitement around this series since announcing it! I've fell in love writing this story 🥹 and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Dean smiled lazily as he felt a warm palm slide up his chest, the body behind him pressing closer. Soft lips trailed kisses along his neck and shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine. He hummed in contentment and shifted onto his back, his tired eyes opening to the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

Her eyes sparkled with warmth and mischief, her lips curving into a playful smirk before she leaned down, peppering gentle kisses along his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut again as she sucked lightly at his pulse point, his breath coming quicker. A low groan rumbled from his throat as he gripped her waist, pulling her up into a heated kiss.

Her tongue caressed his, her touch sending fire through his veins. Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingertips grazing lower and lower beneath the sheets, his pulse pounding—

"WAKE UP, LOSER!"

Dean's eyes shot open, his body jolting as the blaring shriek of an airhorn filled his room. He yanked the covers tighter around himself, his heart racing from both the rude awakening and the remnants of his dream.

"What the hell, Y/N?" he growled, glaring at the culprit as he covered his ears. You grinned triumphantly and finally put the airhorn to rest.

Dean huffed, flopping back down on the bed and throwing an arm over his face, trying to will away the heat rising to his cheeks.

What the fuck? Was all he could think, his sleep-addled brain scrambling to make sense of why he’d just had a sex dream about you.

You, meanwhile, were way too chipper for his liking. 

"C’mon, Dean-o, up and at ’em." You patted his leg, and he flinched like you’d just burned him. You shot him an odd look, but he ignored it, shifting slightly to make sure the blanket hid the… Predicament he was currently dealing with.

"What’s with the drill sergeant wake-up? Can a guy not sleep in on a Saturday?" He grumbled, voice still rough from sleep, and other things.

You pouted. Actually pouted. And Dean had to force himself to look away from your lips—lips that had just been doing unspeakable things to him in his dream.

"You promised you'd go Christmas shopping with me.” You reminded him, completely unfazed by his mood.

Dean frowned. "That doesn’t sound like something I’d promise."

You hit him with your classic 'don’t bullshit me' look. And, yeah, okay, he remembered now. He'd offered last week, wanting to help you survive the chaos of last-minute shoppers—and use the trip to grab gifts for his own family.

"Fine, yeah. Just give me ten minutes to wake up, alright?" He relented, desperate for you to leave so he could deal with his little… Issue.

“Thanks, Buddy." Your voice was smug, like you knew he’d never actually say no to you. Because, let’s be honest, he never did.

Dean sighed as you closed the door behind you. He let his head fall back against the pillow, running a hand down his face.

What the hell?

Why was he dreaming about you like that? You were his best friend. You’d been inseparable since fourth grade. Sure, you were beautiful, but that had never been an issue before.

…Had it?

Dean groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Nope. Too early for a deep dive into that mess. He rationalised it away—one, you were attractive. Two, you were close. And, statistically speaking, didn’t most guy-girl friendships eventually veer into weird territory at some point?

Yeah. Totally normal. No big deal.

Except… Two hours later, standing in the middle of a lingerie store, Dean realised he was totally screwed.

Before that, he’d spent the last two hours hauling around a bunch of your shopping bags like a damn pack mule. Only one of them happened to be his, with his completed gift purchases for everyone he needed to buy for. Though to be fair to you, your arms were just as full. He was bewildered at your ability to buy so much for so little.

Your immediate family only consisted of three people—Bobby, Ellen, and Jo—but you had argued that you had your friends, his family, and him to buy for. The latter of which, he’d told you not to do.

However, it fell on deaf ears as always. Every Christmas and birthday, it was the same. But Dean couldn’t fault you for it—you always got people gifts that were meaningful to them, and you got so much joy from giving that he could never say anything other than thank you.

What he wasn’t thankful for was your complete inability to stay focused. Every shop you entered, you’d get distracted by little knickknacks, convincing yourself someone needed them, rather than the original item you came for. It made the day so much longer, but despite the fatigue in his arms and the chaos of holiday shoppers, he was enjoying himself.

Though, that was a given with you.

You were naturally a people pleaser, but knowing how much Dean hated shopping, you’d made it your mission to keep him entertained. You’d made him laugh—laugh to the point his belly ached and tears were shed. The day had surprisingly become enjoyable. But then you'd dragged him into this store, and his brain short-circuited.

The window displays alone had him spiralling, lace and silk-covered mannequins taunting him with thoughts he really didn’t need to have. About you. And then you, completely oblivious, pulled a matching red lace bra and thong off a rack, holding them up for inspection.

Dean swallowed hard.

He’d done your laundry before. You two split chores in the apartment, and he’d handled your underwear plenty of times; never thinking twice about it. So why the hell was he suddenly imagining you in them now?

Was this really because of the dream? It had to be.

And then, like you hadn’t already sent him into cardiac arrest, you giggled, holding up another pair. "Hey, check this out—crotchless panties."

Dean barely choked back a groan as you stuck your fingers through the open section like it was the funniest thing in the world. His brain, on the other hand, provided a detailed mental slideshow of all the things he could do to you in them.

Jesus Christ.

He needed air.

"I—uh—I gotta step outside. Promised Sammy I’d call about a gift for Mom," he lied, voice tight.

You barely glanced up. "Okay."

Dean bolted like his life depended on it, shoving through the doors and inhaling the crisp winter air. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" He muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

A passing woman gave him a scandalised look as she walked by with her kid. He shot her an apologetic smile before leaning back against the brick wall, blowing out a heavy breath.

He tried to clear his mind, but every time he pushed the R-rated thoughts away, softer images replaced them. The way you smiled. The way you laughed, head thrown back, eyes crinkling. That stupid fluttery feeling hit his stomach again.

Dean frowned.

Was he sick? Hallucinating?

The worst part? You were always the person he talked to when he was confused about something.

But now you were the one person he couldn’t talk to about this.

Another half hour crawled by before you finally emerged from the store, a small bag swinging from your wrist. Dean’s eyes locked onto it like it held the answers to the universe, his mind immediately spiralling.

What the hell did you buy?

He told himself he didn’t care. He really didn’t. But his brain clearly had other plans because now he was picturing you in every single thing you could’ve possibly picked out.

Lingerie? Pyjama's? Something sheer, lace- nope!

He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on literally anything else, but it was a lost cause. By the time you both made it back to the apartment, he felt like his brain had been put through a damn blender.

You, however, were completely unbothered, tossing your bags onto the floor with a content sigh before flopping onto the couch. "Pizza should be here soon. You wanna pick the movie?"

Dean blinked, barely processing the words. Right. Normal best friend things. Hanging out. Eating pizza. Watching a movie. That’s what you two did. That’s what you’d always done.

Maybe that’s all today was—a momentary lapse. A weird, fleeting thing brought on by lack of sleep, the stress of shopping, and, most probably, the objectifying dream he’d had of you. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

Yeah. He could shake this off. No big deal.

Letting out a slow breath, he dropped onto the couch beside you, snagging the remote. "Fine. But if I pick, you’re not allowed to bitch about it."

You hummed, already scrolling through your phone. "I make no promises."

A small smirk tugged at Dean’s lips. This was normal. Easy. Just like always.

And for the first time since this morning, he let himself believe it.

The following Friday, Dean found himself at the Roadhouse with Benny, Cas, and Gabe. It was the kind of place that felt like a second home.

The Roadhouse wasn’t fancy—hell, half the decor was older than they were—but it had its own charm. The regulars, the outdated rodeo-style décor, the worn wooden bar top that had seen more spilled whiskey and thrown punches than anyone cared to count.

The walls were lined with old beer signs, neon lights buzzing softly under the hum of conversation. The jukebox in the corner cycled through rock classics, always a little too loud, but that was part of the place’s charm.

Dean and the guys had been coming here for years—long before they were even old enough to drink. You had, too. Being Ellen’s stepdaughter meant you practically grew up in this place, and while Ellen had a strict no-bullshit policy, she wasn’t blind to the fact that teenagers would be teenagers.

As long as you and the guys stayed under her watchful eye, she let you each have a beer or two when you were younger, making damn sure no one got carried away. And if anyone so much as thought about sneaking more? Well, Ellen had a way of shutting that down real quick. She was tough, sharp as a whip, and had a stare that could make a grown man fold—but she cared, more than she’d ever admit.

Jo helped out too, working the bar some nights in between her law enforcement studies. She’d been slinging beers and rolling her eyes at the group’s antics since she was old enough to work behind the counter, always quick with a sarcastic remark when any of them got out of line. 

You and Dean had spent countless nights here, watching as the Roadhouse shaped who you all became.

Benny leaned against the pool table, lining up his shot with an easy, practiced confidence. Dean had seen him do it a hundred times—his friend had a natural ease about him, a steadiness that made him damn good at their job. 

They spent most of their days working maintenance for RHP Properties, fixing busted pipes and dealing with tenants who thought every flickering light meant the world was ending. Benny made the long hours bearable.

Cas sat nearby, nursing a whiskey, his sharp blue eyes scanning the table like he was analysing some historical battle strategy. He always had that serious, thoughtful air about him. It made sense—he was a history teacher, working his way toward becoming a professor. His brain just worked differently.

And then there was Gabriel, though he liked to go by Gabe, Cas’ cousin. Though you’d never guess it just by looking at them. 

Where Cas was serious, methodical, and downright broody at times, Gabe was his exact opposite—carefree, unpredictable, and always ready with a joke. The contrast between them was almost comical, like night and day, order and chaos.

Currently half-draped over the bar like he owned the place, Gabe was laughing at something Rachel, the new bartender, had said. She was easy on the eyes—exactly the kind of woman Gabe set his sights on. And judging by the way she giggled and blushed under his usual blend of wit and charm, he’d hit his mark.

Gabe had always been that guy—the one who could talk his way into or out of anything, a natural-born trickster with a grin that could disarm just about anyone. No one was entirely sure what he did for a living, some mix of marketing gigs and side hustles that somehow kept him afloat. According to him, it was all about “the art of persuasion.”

Dean just called it bullshit.

The night had settled into an easy rhythm—drinks flowing, pool games stretching long enough to become more about talking shit than actual competition. Gabe, as always, had the floor, spinning some ridiculous story about a one-night stand gone wrong.

“I’m telling you; she had three snakes. Just slithering around the damn apartment like it was normal,” Gabe insisted, gesturing wildly with his beer. “One of ‘em was watching me, man. I swear it knew.”

Benny chuckled, lining up his next shot. “I think the real question is, why the hell did you stay?”

Gabe shrugged. “What can I say? I have a hard time walking away from an adventure.”

Cas, who had been nursing his whiskey with a bemused expression, finally spoke up. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been killed yet.”

“Give it time,” Benny muttered, sinking his shot.

The conversation shifted, everyone throwing in their own weird hookup stories—bad timing, embarrassing moments, things they wished they could forget. Dean had been mostly listening, chuckling at their dumb-assery, when the thought that had been nagging him for days finally slipped out.

“Is it, uh… normal to have a sex dream about a friend?”

Benny didn’t react at first, too focused on sinking his shot, but Gabe, ever the opportunist, caught onto it immediately. “If it’s about Y/N? Yeah, totally.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “What? No—it’s not—”

Gabe grinned, tilting his head like he was enjoying watching Dean squirm. “Not what? Not about her? Or not just a dream?”

Dean scowled, scrambling to recover. “Jesus, Gabe, I didn’t say it was about her. It was hypothetical.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe leaned against the pool table, twirling the chalk in his fingers. “Sure, man. Hypothetical.”

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the weird, twisting feeling in his gut. “Just saying, dreams don’t mean anything, right? Just… brain static.”

Benny chuckled, finally looking up from the table. “Depends on the dream, brother.”

Dean glanced between them, suddenly feeling like he was the only one missing something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabe smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It means you’ve been making googly eyes at her since we were, what—fifteen?”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “The hell I have.”

Gabe ignored him, tapping his chin. “Honestly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.”

Benny sighed, shaking his head as he sank another shot. “Sorry, brother. Gotta agree with the gremlin on this one.”

Cas, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm and matter of fact. “It’s always been very obvious.”

Dean stared at them, mouth opening and closing. “You guys are insane.”

Gabe shrugged, completely unfazed. “Denial’s a hell of a drug. You’ll catch up eventually.”

Dean gripped his pool cue a little tighter, his next shot suddenly feeling a lot more difficult than it should have.

Benny, ever the voice of reason, leaned on his cue. “Ain’t anything bad, Dean. You two have known each other since you were what? Nine. Been joint at the hip since. You know all her family, she knows yours. Hell, she’s practically—”

“If that were true, something would’ve happened by now,” Dean cut in, shaking his head.

Gabe snorted, swiping Dean’s beer before he could stop him. “Not if you’re in denial, my friend.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, frustration curling in his chest. Their words were ringing too damn true, and it was freaking him out. “You’re all outta your damn minds.”

Gabe just smirked. “Keep telling yourself that, Winchester.”

The conversation haunted him. All the way back to the apartment.

He’d walked the couple of blocks from the bar to your shared place, his friends’ words swirling around his mind, needling into places he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Dean knew he cared about you—he always had. But wasn’t that normal after knowing someone for so long? You were practically family.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he met you. Fourth grade. The old, rusted swing set at the park near his house.

He’d been shoving loose gravel around with the toe of his sneaker when he heard a loud laugh—sharp and unbothered. Looking up, he saw a girl launch herself off the swing at its peak, landing in a heap on the ground with a thud.

He winced. That had to hurt.

But instead of crying, you rolled onto your back, a grin splitting your dirt-smudged face as you stared up at the sky. "Holy crap, that was awesome."

Dean frowned, more confused than anything. "You just busted your knee."

You sat up, inspecting the scrape with a shrug. "Eh, I’ve had worse."

Then you looked at him—really looked at him—and grinned. "Think you can jump higher?"

Dean, never one to back down from a challenge, snorted. "Duh."

And that was that. A competition was born.

For the next hour, you and Dean had taken turns swinging as high as possible before flinging yourselves off, measuring who could get the most distance. By the time the sun dipped low, both of you were covered in dirt and scrapes, laughing like idiots.

When his mom finally called him home for dinner, he’d hesitated before brushing off his hands and looking at you. "Same time tomorrow?"

You grinned, teeth flashing. "You’re on, Winchester."

And just like that, Dean had found his best friend.

Now, years later, that same friend was tangled up in his head in a way he couldn’t ignore.

And it scared the hell out of him.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean called out as soon as he stepped into the apartment. The words left him out of habit, that same old teasing lilt in his voice. It was an inside joke that had stuck over time—born the day you’d both moved in together after college, a decision fuelled by practicality more than anything else. 

Splitting rent was cheaper, and as best friends, it had made perfect sense. Somehow, though, the whole thing had felt oddly domestic from the start, and Dean had cracked the joke that first night—throwing open the door with a smirk, announcing himself like some sitcom husband. You’d groaned, thrown a pillow at him, and it had just stuck. Something easy, something comfortable.

From somewhere deeper in the apartment, your voice called back, warm and casual. “Hey!” You greeted him as he shrugged off his worn leather jacket and toed off his boots with a sigh, rolling his neck to ease the tension there. 

“How were the guys?” You called out again.

"Yeah, they're all good," he answered absentmindedly, trying not to think about that last conversation he’d had with them as he headed straight for the fridge, already contemplating his options.

His hand gripped the cool metal of the handle as he swung it open, his face falling at the sad excuse for groceries staring back at him—half a six-pack, expired milk, some takeout containers he didn’t even remember ordering.

Right. Grocery shopping. Definitely overdue.

"Hey, you feel like ordering in tonight?" He called out over his shoulder. "Pizza? Chinese? Maybe both, live a little?"

But before he could get an answer, movement in the corner of his eye pulled his focus, and his breath caught in his throat.

You stepped out of your room, and just like that, Dean forgot how to breathe.

His hand slipped from the fridge handle as his entire focus tunnelled in on you. You weren’t just dressed up—you were knockout gorgeous. 

A sleek, black dress hugged your figure in a way that should’ve been illegal, the fabric clinging in all the right places before tapering off mid-thigh. Your legs—long, smooth, and so much more on display than he was prepared for—were accentuated by the sharp cut of your stilettos, heels so high they had no damn business being on your feet, yet somehow, you walked like you owned the world in them.

Dean swallowed hard.

His gaze flickered to the subtle details—the delicate chain resting just below the hollow of your throat, the way the dim lighting in the apartment caught the shimmer of your earrings, how your makeup was just enough to highlight what was already perfect. 

You smelled different too—a new perfume perhaps? Something subtle but undeniably you.

The air in the apartment felt thick, like it was pushing down on his chest.

You didn’t even notice his staring. Instead, you were focused on the couch, leaning over slightly as you grabbed your purse, your fingers quickly checking through its contents. "I can't," you said lightly, barely looking up. "Got a hot date, remember?"

Dean blinked, your words cutting through his haze like a blade.

“Date?"

His stomach twisted.

You straightened up, finally glancing at him with a smirk. "Yeah, with Gary from marketing?" You prompted, slinging your purse over your shoulder. "He asked me out last week—I told you about it?”

Gary from marketing.

Dean’s brows furrowed as the memory came rushing back—how you’d offhandedly mentioned it while he was distracted with something else, how he’d muttered some half-assed response at the time, maybe even made a joke—

"The guy with the tragic haircut?" he muttered, the words coming out before he could stop them.

You laughed. "That’s the one."

And just like that, it hit him.

He’d been so caught up in his own damn thoughts about you lately—trying to reason with himself, trying to make sense of the way things had shifted between you lately—that he hadn’t even thought the world would still be turning for you.

He’d been sitting in the passenger seat, clueless, while you’d been steering your own damn life without him.

And now?

Now, you were standing there, looking like that, all dressed up for some other guy—some idiot named Gary, who got to pick you up and take you out, who got to be the reason you put on that dress, who got to see that smile meant for him tonight.

Dean’s chest felt tight, a slow, bitter realisation creeping in.

This wasn’t like all the other times.

You’d gone on dates before. He knew that. He’d teased you about them, had even tossed out protective big-brother-ish warnings to guys who had no clue the words felt foreign in his mouth. But he’d never felt anything about it before.

Not like this.

Not like his chest was caving in.

Not like a bitter, ugly heat was curling around his ribs, settling deep into his bones.

Not like he wanted to throw his jacket back on and hunt down ‘Gary from marketing’ and make damn sure he knew he wasn’t good enough for you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Right." His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, rough around the edges as he forced the word past the lump in his throat.

He watched as you did one last check in the mirror by the door, smoothing your hands down your dress, adjusting your lipstick in a way that made his stomach tighten even more. You looked excited.

Dean clenched his jaw.

And just like that, the jealousy settled deep in his bones, hot and unyielding.

He didn’t want to picture it—you laughing at some stupid joke Gary made over dinner, Gary sliding his hand over yours, maybe leaning in close at the end of the night, lips hovering over yours.

But the thoughts came anyway.

And it wrecked him.

You shot him one last glance, oblivious to the storm raging inside of him. "Don’t wait up, Winchester."

And with that, you were gone.

Dean stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

His chest felt tight. And then the bitter realisation hit him. 

His friends had been right.

Dean couldn’t sleep.

For the past two hours, he had been tossing and turning, alternating between staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut, willing sleep to come. It never did.

How the hell could he sleep when his mind was torturing him with images of you—with Gary?

His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of it, bile rising in his throat. His mind painted vivid, unwanted pictures: Gary���s hands on you, his lips on your skin, your soft laughter, the way you might be looking at him right now—the way you should be looking at Dean.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if it would shake the thoughts loose. It didn’t.

With a frustrated exhale, Dean sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. This was pointless.

There was no way in hell he was going to get any rest like this, not with his heart pounding and his mind running laps. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his sore muscles before making his way into the living room.

His feet carried him straight to the kitchen, to the cabinet under the sink where he kept a bottle of whiskey for special occasions.

This qualified.

He poured himself a shot and downed it in one go, barely wincing at the burn as it slid down his throat. The second one went down just as easily, a bitter warmth settling in his chest, but it didn’t quiet the storm in his head the way he hoped it would.

His eyes flicked toward the clock on the microwave.

1:37 AM.

You were still out.

Another shot. Another slow burn in his chest.

Dean knew he had no right to be this worked up about it. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to you except your best friend—your roommate. That was the problem.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

When the hell did everything get so complicated?

It wasn’t just the dream. Sure, it cracked something open in him, but if he was honest with himself, there had always been something simmering underneath. He could see it now—in the way his past relationships never worked out, how no one else ever seemed enough because in the back of his mind, he was always comparing them to you. The way he told you things he didn’t tell anyone, not even his own mother.

Seventeen years.

You had been in his life for seventeen years. That was longer than most marriages. 

Damn, he really was an idiot. How could he have been so blind to it, so ignorant to what was staring him right in the face the whole time? 

Then, he heard it.

The distinct jingle of keys outside the door, followed by a clumsy, muffled “shit" breaking him out of his reverie.

Dean sighed, setting his glass down before pushing off from the counter. He made his way to the door just as he heard another "fuck", then a quiet thud—like something hitting the floor.

Through the peephole, he spotted you crouched down, fumbling for your keys, struggling to fit them into the lock.

You were clearly drunk.

Dean shook his head with a smirk, unlocking the door from his side just as you managed to steady yourself, one hand braced against the door handle. The moment he pulled it open, you stumbled forward, nearly toppling over—until his arms caught you.

You crashed into his chest with a soft “Hmph.”

Dean's arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you up as you melted against him, giggling into his shirt. The scent of alcohol clung to you, a mix of whiskey and whatever fruity drink you had been sipping on all night.

“Jesus." You huffed, pushing off him, though you wobbled as you tried to find your footing. Dean kept his hands out, ready to catch you again if needed.

"You good, sweetheart?" He asked, raising a brow as he took in your dazed smile and glassy eyes.

You grinned up at him, your expression pure blissed-out drunkenness. "I'm just perfect, Dean’o."

Dean smirked at the nickname, but before he could say anything, you reached up and grasped his jaw between your thumb and fingers, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“Okay, alright—enough of that.” He groaned, peeling your hand away. You didn’t seem to realise your own strength at the moment, and if you squeezed any harder, you were gonna leave a dent in his damn face.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, before your attention drifted over his shoulder. Then your expression dropped into something heartbreakingly close to a pout.

“Awww,” you whined. “You’re drinking without me?”

You sounded genuinely upset, your lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated fashion. Before Dean could respond, you made a clumsy grab for the bottle on the counter.

But Dean was quicker.

Before your fingers could wrap around the neck of the whiskey bottle, his hand closed over yours, pulling it away with ease. “Yeah, no. You’ve had enough,” he said firmly, setting the bottle behind him and out of reach.

You frowned up at him, your brows knitting together like a scolded child. “You’re no fun.”

Dean smirked, amused at how downright grumpy you looked, like a kid being denied dessert. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You need some water, sweetheart. Not more booze.”

You huffed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want water, I want whiskey.”

“Tough,” Dean said, already turning to grab a glass from the cabinet. “You’re getting water.”

Your pout deepened as he filled the glass from the tap, sliding it toward you. You eyed it like it personally offended you before reluctantly picking it up and taking a sip—your way of conceding to his demand, albeit with an exaggerated sigh.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. You were something else.

Once you were distracted with your water, he leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms over his chest. He could still feel the tension coiling in his gut, the jealousy he’d been drowning in all night, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“So,” he started, keeping his tone casual, but his fingers clenched against his biceps. “How was it?”

You blinked up at him, confused. “How was what?”

Dean gave you a look. “Your date.”

At that, you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Oh, that.” You waved a hand dismissively. “It was awful.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly you admitted it. He’d expected you to defend the guy, maybe try to convince yourself it had been a good time. But no—just flat-out awful.

“Yeah?” He prompted, keeping his voice even, but he could already feel his chest loosening just a little.

You leaned against the counter, your drunken state making you extra expressive as you talked with your hands. “First of all, the guy is so uptight. Like, I swear, he’s never laughed in his life. I tried joking around, and he just blinked at me like I was speaking another language.”

Dean snorted, already picturing it.

“And then,” you continued, eyes wide with disbelief, “all he did was talk about himself. Nonstop. Like, dude, I asked him one question—one—about his job, and suddenly I was stuck in a TED Talk about marketing strategies. Like I don’t work for the same company.” You threw your arms out in a ‘are you kidding me’ gesture.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like a real winner.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you said, holding up a finger. “So, we order food, right? And I get a cheeseburger, because, you know, I wanted a damn cheeseburger.”

Dean nodded approvingly. “Good choice.”

“Right?” You gestured wildly, as if proving your point. “But Gary—freaking Gary—looks at me and goes, ‘Are you sure you wanna eat that? You should really watch your figure.’”

Dean froze. His smirk disappeared.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe the words had actually come out of your mouth.

Then his expression darkened, jaw tightening. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wish.”

Dean’s grip on his bicep tightened, his teeth grinding together. That prick. He had known from the start that Gary was a tool, but this? This was another level.

“So,” you continued, a mischievous glint in your eye, “I did what any rational, level-headed woman would do in that situation.”

Dean arched a brow. “And that was?”

You grinned, leaning in like you were about to tell him a secret. “I threw my drink in his face and left.”

Dean stared at you for a beat, then—He laughed.

A deep, genuine laugh that rumbled in his chest as pride swelled in him. “No shit?”

“No shit.” You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “Right in his smug, stupid, judgy face.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. That’s my girl, he thought, though he would never say it out loud.

“But instead of coming straight home,” you continued, twirling your glass of water between your fingers, “I didn’t wanna deal with your I told you so—”

Dean smirked. “I would’ve said it.”

You shot him a look. “—so, I went to the Roadhouse instead. Had a few drinks, bitched about my failed date to Jo and Ellen. Ellen cut me off and called me a cab.” Dean huffed. That sounded about right.

For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the way you had perked up again, the lingering frustration in your eyes slowly melting into something softer.

You were here.

Not out with Gary. Not waking up next to some guy who didn’t deserve you. Not letting some self-important idiot tell you who you should be.

You were home. With him.

And as much as he wanted to tell you that he had been losing his damn mind all night, picturing you with someone else—he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, and smirked.

"Well," Dean said, tilting his head with a smirk. "At least you got a good story out of it."

"Yeah, I guess." You hummed, swirling the water in your glass. The initial amusement faded as your shoulders dropped slightly. Dean caught the shift immediately, his brows pulling together.

"C’mon, you can’t really be cut up about a guy with an Edward Scissor-hands haircut and zero game." He teased, hoping to pull you out of whatever downward spiral you were heading into.

It worked—your laughter bubbled out, a full, belly-deep laugh that made the tension in his chest ease. But then you sighed, the sound quieter this time, more pensive. "It’s not him I’m cut up about."

Dean watched you carefully as you traced the rim of your glass with your finger. "I just feel like I can never meet a good guy."

Something inside him twisted.

What about me?

The thought came unbidden, sharp and intrusive, and he shoved it down before it could take root. Instead, he nudged you with his elbow.

"That’s not true." His voice was lighter now, teasing again. "What about Mikey? The guy with the lisp?"

His grin widened as he mimicked a lisp, knowing damn well you’d dated the guy for barely two months in your sophomore year before his clinginess drove you up the wall. The look of horror that crossed your face had him biting back a laugh.

"Oh my God, Dean!" You gawked at him before landing a solid punch to his arm. "That is so mean!"

"Ow," he complained through his laughter, rubbing the spot you hit. "I’m serious, though! He was a real sweetheart.” He exaggerated the lisp again, barely dodging your next swing.

"I swear to God—" You huffed, turning to stomp off, but before you could escape, he caught your arm gently.

"Okay, okay, I’m done. Scouts honour." He held up three fingers in a mock solemn gesture.

You gave him a look—like you absolutely did not believe him—but still, with a huff, you reclaimed your spot opposite him and took another sip of water.

Then, almost absentmindedly, you sighed. "I mean, it has been a long time."

Dean’s brow furrowed. "A long time since what?"

You hesitated for a brief second before shrugging your shoulders, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. "Since I’ve had sex."

Dean choked on his own damn saliva.

You frowned in concern, but he quickly waved you off, reaching for his whiskey to cover up the way his throat had suddenly gone dry.

You leaned back against the counter, lost in thought, completely oblivious to the war you’d just started in his head.

"I just—I don’t even need romance, you know?" You shrugged. "At this point, I’d settle for a little fun. I even bought new lingerie for tonight, just in case, and now"— you gestured vaguely to yourself, "totally wasted."

Dean swallowed—hard.

His mind was already in dangerous territory, but now it plummeted straight into the gutter.

You’d bought lingerie? For tonight?

His gaze instinctively flicked down for half a second before he caught himself, before he could let himself really think about what you were implying. Because if you had planned for tonight—if you were wearing it right now—

God help him.

The image hit him like a freight train. You, laid out in something lacey and delicate, something sheer enough to tease but not reveal, maybe even those crotchless panties you’d pointed out the other day in that damn store—his stomach twisted, his fingers curling around his glass with a little too much force.

And the worst part? Some other guy was supposed to see you like that tonight.

That thought sent something hot and possessive burning through his veins.

Dean exhaled sharply, gripping the back of his neck as he forced his gaze anywhere but at you.

"Gary didn’t deserve to see you like that." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, his voice lower than before.

You scoffed. "Yeah, well, no one else is seeing it either, so it really doesn’t matter."

It matters to me.

Dean forced himself to take another sip of whiskey, as if that would drown out the thoughts swimming in his head.

With a stretch and a yawn, you set your empty glass down and pushed off the counter. "Alright, I’m gonna head to bed. Thanks for making me drink water, Mom." You teased, because Dean was always more like a mother hen than a strict father.

Dean smirked, watching as you stepped closer. He expected you to give him a casual pat on the arm or maybe ruffle his hair like you sometimes did when you were feeling particularly annoying.

Instead, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Or, at least, that’s where it was meant to land.

At the last second, whether it was the whiskey in your system or just bad aim, your lips caught the corner of his mouth.

You gasped softly, your breath fanning over his lips, and then you giggled. "Shit—sorry."

Dean didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Because you were still right there, inches away, your body just barely brushing his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

Something in the air shifted.

The easy playfulness between you dissolved into something else—something warm and electric, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Your smile faded, lips parting slightly as you lingered, hesitating just a second longer than necessary.

Then, before he could say a damn thing, before he could even think—

You leaned in again.

And this time, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, your lips pressing against his in a way that felt like a question. Like you were giving him the chance to pull away, to stop this before it could turn into something neither of you could take back.

Dean’s entire body locked up. His mind screamed at him to push you away, to remind you that you’d been drinking, that this was just a moment of drunken impulse, that tomorrow you might regret this.

But then you pressed in closer, deepening the kiss, your fingers skimming up his arm, and his resolve shattered.

A low, quiet sound rumbled in his throat as he gave in. Completely.

His hands found your waist, gripping tight, pulling you against him as he kissed you back. And not just kissed you—devoured you. All the tension from the past few days, all the frustration, the longing, the confusion—it poured out of him like a damn breaking.

Your lips were warm, soft, intoxicating in a way no drink could ever compare to. He let himself get lost in it, let himself feel it—how perfect you felt against him, how natural this was, like it had been inevitable all along.

You sighed against his mouth, your fingers sliding up into his hair, and Dean groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss even further.

He didn’t know when his hands had moved, but now one was tangled in your hair, the other splayed against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. And fuck, you felt good. Too good.

This was dangerous.

And when you finally pulled away, lips kiss-swollen and breaths unsteady, Dean couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. His heart pounded like a war drum; each beat a sharp, insistent reminder of the storm raging inside him.

He should say something. Do something. But every word he might’ve spoken tangled in his throat, choked by the weight of what had just happened.

“Woah,” you whispered, your voice barely more than breath. Your eyes flickered between his and his mouth, never quite settling, like you were just as caught in the moment as he was. Your cheeks were flushed, heat radiating from your skin, and the ghost of your breath still lingered against his lips, dizzying and sweet.

Dean didn’t move. Didn’t dare move. The air between you crackled, fragile and electric, holding him captive in a moment he wasn’t ready to break.

He was waiting for you. Like always.

Your breath ghosted against his lips, and that was all it took.

You kissed him again, this time with more heat, more purpose, fingers tangling into the front of his shirt as you pulled him in. Dean let out a rough sound—somewhere between a groan and a sigh—before his hands found your waist, gripping tight as he backed you up against the counter. The edge dug into your lower back, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way he was pressing into you, solid and warm and overwhelming in the best way.

His hands slid down, grasping the backs of your thighs, and before you could fully process it, he lifted you effortlessly onto the countertop.

A surprised gasp left your lips, but Dean was already there, swallowing the sound as he kissed you again, deeper, slower, his fingers digging into your hips. You pulled him in, locking your legs around his waist, desperate to feel more of him, and his hands wandered—exploring the soft, bare skin of your thighs, gliding higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as he went.

He trailed kisses down your jaw, moving to your neck, and when his lips found that one spot—the spot—you let out a soft moan, your head tipping back instinctively.

Only to smack it straight into the cabinet behind you.

The entire moment shattered.

You winced, immediately bringing a hand to the back of your head. Dean jerked back, eyes wide with concern.

“Shit—are you okay?” He cupped your jaw, scanning your face for any sign of real pain.

For a second, you just blinked at him—then, out of nowhere, you started giggling.

Dean frowned, still searching your eyes, but when you kept laughing, it broke him. He snorted, shaking his head, then let out a deep, full-bodied chuckle, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He pulled back, still grinning, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

You sighed dramatically. “That the universe hates me?”

Dean smirked, his hands settling on your hips. “That you’re not sober enough for this.” His answer was loaded, a heavy realisation for himself that you were in no state of mind to be making any rational decisions right now, and that he should've known better than to take advantage of that. 

You pouted slightly, but you both knew he was right. Still, there was something soft in his expression as he helped you down, steadying you with warm hands on your waist. The moment your feet hit the ground, you swayed a little, still a bit disoriented.

Dean caught you instantly. “Okay, yeah. You need to lie down, sweetheart.”

You groaned but didn’t fight him as he led you to your room, making sure you didn’t trip over your own feet. Once you were settled, he disappeared briefly before returning with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, setting them on your nightstand.

“You’re a saint,” you mumbled, already sinking into the mattress.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Not quite. Just don’t want you becoming a pain in my ass in the morning when your head’s pounding.” He said as he helped pull off your shoes and settled you under the covers.

You cracked one eye open, looking at him with something unreadable, something soft. “Could never hate you, Dean.” You mumbled half asleep. 

He looked at you, lingering for a second too long. Then stood, with a small exhale.

“Call me if you need anything.” He told you as he walked to the door. You hummed your acknowledgment, and with that, he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Dean barely made it to his own room before he collapsed onto the bed, dragging both hands down his face.

What the fuck just happened?

The feel of you, the taste of your lips—it was burned into him now, like some kind of cruel brand.

It was just a kiss. Just a few incredible, amazing kisses. But now he knew for sure, no one would ever compare now.

And that thought terrified him.

Because tomorrow, you might not even remember. And if you did, would you be embarrassed? Regret it? Or worse, hate him?

Dean stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight, mind racing.

Yeah. He was so fucked.

AN: There we have it folks, the first chapter! It was a long one 😅 I know, but I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback etc ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom

Next Time...

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay still. No sudden movements, no giving anything away. But then your gaze betrayed you—just for a second, barely a flicker—dipping down to his mouth. Shit. Because now you could feel it again. The way he kissed you, rough but deliberate, like he had wanted it. The taste of whiskey, the heat of his hands, the way his fingers had curled into your hips like he was holding on for dear life. Dean cleared his throat. Stepped back. "I’m gonna head to the store," he said, too casual. It took a second for the words to register. "Oh. Yeah, okay." He hesitated—like he might ask you to come with him—but then he smirked instead, lips twitching. "Would’ve invited you, but, uh… You kinda look like the walking dead. Don’t want you cramping my style.” Your head shot up, glare locked and loaded. "Ass." Dean just grinned. "Try not to die while I’m gone." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Your fingers tightened around the coffee mug as you exhaled, long and slow, staring at the door like it might offer some kind of answer. Yeah. You were so screwed.

[watermelongirl01]

Sweet Rescue Masterlist

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have always heard about the brave and strong firefighters around your town, but never gave it the relevance it truly deserved. That is, until you find yourself caught in a horrible car accident, one that makes you see your life flashing before your eyes. Now you feel the overwhelming need to thank the fire department that rescued you. How can you show them? By gifting them a year of your finest desserts. Little did you know, this was the key to Captain Dean Winchester’s heart.

Who thought that the accident would begin the most wonderful love story between the fireman with the sweetest tooth and the best baker in town?

Content Warning: English is not my first language. This will be a mini-series AU with fluff, angst, and eventually smut.

If you are interested and reading this, please let me know. I Will be adding chapters as soon as I can.

Please DO NOT copy or translate this.

Chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Tags: @ladysparkles78 @ariesandwolves @n-o-p-e-never

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[s0urw00lf]

One of those days

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Jo harvelle x Dean Winchester

Warnings: mentions of unavailable parents

AN: I'm so happy with this! I love the idea of teenage Sam x reader and teenage dean x Jo doing normal teenage stuff. I just wanna write a whole bunch of these so if you have any requests please send them. Also I’m trying out new writing formats to see what I’m gonna be permanently going so that’s going well. (im writing this after i finished the fic that’s why it doesn’t match the title)

It wasn’t often that all four of you were at Bobby’s all at the same time, but when it did happen you made the best of it.

Bobby had told you and Jo about a time he took Sam and dean fishing and how dean annoyed and pestered Sam the entire time. Much to your surprise, the two of you never knew that Bobby had a huge pond on his property and when you asked why you never heard about it Bobby replied “cuz I wasn’t putn’ up with your complaints about the bugs”, making Sam and dean snort and you and Jo send them glares.

“We should go” Jo says from deans side once Bobby headed to bed. You raise your brows in confusion running your hands through Sam’s shaggy hair “go where?” You ask. Jo sits up a little causing deans arm to fall from around her shoulder “Bobby’s pond. I mean we all can drive and it would give us something to do and give Bobby a break” the four of you looked among each other before dean spoke “not a bad idea”

You look at Sam who’s head was in you lap, he gave you a shrug in response “sounds like a plan, but i don’t have a swimsuit” you say. Jo sighs “just wear shorts and a bra”

Your cheeks redden in embarrassment, dean smirked seeing the perfect opportunity to tease you “oh come on don’t tell me you’re all shy about wearin’ a bra. We’re all adults, plus its nothing Sammy hasn’t seen before if that’s what you’re worried about”

“Dean!” Sam says before throwing a pillow at his brother. Before looking up to you with a smirk of his own “hes not wrong though” he teases raising his eyebrows. You throw you head back feeling heat seep over your body “kill me now” you groan, before looking back at them “fine but don’t be surprised when my abs look better than you guys’” you say jokingly. Sam and dean both scoff “ill give you one hundred bucks if you show up with abs”

You let out a loud laugh “ill take you up on that action”

Not long after that conversation you all retire to bed, you and Jo sharing a room and Sam and dean sharing the other. Much to your dismay but Bobby insisted that there will be no opposing gender room sharing and you all knew better than to argue with Bobby.

The next morning was a blur, you woke up excited and followed Jo down for breakfast, Sam and dean showed up a minute or two after the two of you, saying their good mornings. Sam pressed a kiss to your forehead before sitting down next to you, dean did the same but kissed Jo on the lips. They were more bold with their PDA than you and Sam but you didn’t mind.

When Bobby sat down placing the last of the breakfast he made on the table, conversation flowed easily as everyone filled their plates with food. “What’re you four gettin’ into today, i got a few jobs to help with” Bobby asked biting into bacon. Your eyebrows raised in surprise “your goin on a hunt?” You asked cutting Into the pancake on your plate. Bobby shook his head “no just some research and calls to make.” You nodded in understanding taking a sip of your orange juice. “We’re going to that pond you mentioned last night” Jo answered his question.

Now it was Bobby’s turn to raise his eyebrows “the pond? Ain’t nobody wanted to go there in years” he said. Dean swallows a bite of his pancake before speaking “so it’s out of commission?”

Bobby snorts “no, i take care of my property, just surprised you’d wanna go” he said. Sam finally spoke from beside you “sounded like something fun to do instead of sitting around all day again”

Bobby nodded in understanding, before turning his attention to his food, and the four of you did the same.

The pond was a lot more well kept than you imagined, it was about a 10 minute walk from Bobby’s even though your and jo were sure you could’ve made it faster if you trusted your instincts and not the two bickering brothers.

You and Jo carried the towels and blankets and Sam and dean carried the chairs and cooler filled with drinks and snacks. The four of you worked to set up your sitting area, before removing the extra clothing articles.

You turned to Jo who handed you a water before glancing at your stomach “looks like dean owes you” she says loud enough to catch deans attention, he then looked at your stomach and groaned, you smirked “scarf to over Winchester” you say holding your hand out.

Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out the one hundred dollar bill and slaps it into your hand before glaring at a cheezing Sam “you couldn’t have warned me?” He asked. Sam shrugs “one day you’ll learn not to make stupid bets. Even jo has abs, why wouldn’t she?” He asked guesturing to your smirking face. Dean looks between you and Sam. “My own blood is against me, what has the world come to” he muttered shrugging off his shirt.

Sam and dean of course were the first ones in the water, while you and Jo sat on the towels painting your nails. Jo had shown up with a case full of nail polish and promised to paint your nails eventually. The boys splashed around in the water laughing and shouting.

You felt so content in this moment, wearing a small smile as you watched them, careful not to move too much to avoid a scolding from Jo. “This is so… normal. It feels illegal” you say almost to yourself.

Jo turns her attention to you briefly and then to the brother in the water “it is, you’d never guess we’ve ever held a gun before” she joked. You laughed, as she finished up your hand, a large shadow covered the both of you, and drips of water pelted against your skin, “Sam, move your getting me wet.” You say trying and failing to push him out of the way “nope. We came here to swim. So we’re swimming.”

You looked up to Sam’s smirking face, you quickly stood up despite Jo’s protests to let your nails dry. You took a few steps back, ready to bolt as you pleaded for Sam to let you be. From behind Sam you see dean pick Jo up causing her to scream and throw her into the pond, letting out a victory laugh.

The adrenaline in your veins made you take off in a sprint in the other direction. “Run y/n!” You hear Jo shout from the water. “Get er Sammy, put those long legs to use” dean shouts clapping his hands.

Realistically you knew Sam could catch you with ease. But that’s what made it so fun was the unexpectansy of when he’d stop going easy on you.

Somehow you managed to stay out of his grasp long enough to reach where dean was standing right on the bank of the lake.

You ran behind him putting him between you and Sam, you watch him from over deans shoulder, his eyes were on dean, having a silent conversation before he looked at you “bad move baby” he said.

And before you could take of running again dean moves out of the way and Sam quickly grabs you and throws you.

You scream before hitting the water, you swam back to the surface with ease.

Making eye contact with the smirking brothers, when an idea popped into your head.

You hissed “Sam i think i hurt my foot” you say, Jo immediately catches onto your act ‘worriedly’ swimming over to you “what are you okay?” She asks urgently.

You shake your head “no it really hurts” you say forcing tears into your eyes.

Sam and deans eyes widen, scared that you’d actually been hurt. “Jo help her over here” Sam says, holding out his hand. Jo nods “helping” you swim to the boys.

“Dean give him a hand would ya?” Jo says feigning worry. You reach for both of their hands and quickly your expression shifts “gotcha” you say pulling them into the water with he help of Jo. The two of you laugh in success giving each other high fives.

The rest of the day was spent like that. Jumping in and out of the water, eating and drinking all of the snacks until the four of you finally decided to go home.

When you got back Bobby wasn’t home, you’d found a note saying that he’d be out until later that night. The four of you took showers and got changed before meeting up in the living room to watch a movie that nobody stayed awake for.

You were the last to fall asleep, against Sam’s chest. You took a peek at dean and Jo who were sprawled out over the smaller couch, breathing in sync.

Then you looked to Sam’s sleeping face. There wasn’t an ounce of worry in his features, he just looked completely at peace. You wished life could always be like this.

In the only house you’d ever grown to know as home, the boy you loved and the friends you’d grown up with all exhausted from a day of being actual teenagers and not because of a dangerous hunt. But it wouldn’t. And somehow you weren’t mad because that’s what made these moments all the more special.

SPECIAL ADDITION

When Bobby got home it was abnormally quiet, there was no way the four teenagers were still at the pond. But the lack of noise began to convince him otherwise. That was until he heard the tv from the living room. He followed the sound, only to see the four sleeping teenagers taking up the entire space of both couches only leaving one chair open. A rare gentle smile crossed Bobby’s face. They aren’t his kids, he knows that but every time he got to see them he felt like in a different world they might have gotten to be.

Seeing them like this reminded him of when they were kids, all tired out from running around outside all day and curled up into one bed. He was glad he could provide some sort of normality for the young teens who’d seen entirely too much horror for their own good.

Sam Winchester masterlist

Taglist 🏷️ : @fandom-princess-forevermore

[samsblades]

so pretty — jo harvelle ꒦꒷ kinktober day two ; thigh riding

cw : gn!reader, smut, fluff, softdom!reader, sorta subby!jo, kissing/making out, thigh riding obvs, praise, petnames (love, sugar, honey, baby, pretty girl), intended to be read as wlw!!, 1.7K words. MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY.

she looks so pretty, so sweet in her cropped tank and medium wash jeans. you keep telling her to quit laying in bed with them on, but she doesn’t really care, and when she looks like this, you don’t either. and it’s completely impossible to be mad at jo harvelle when she smiles at you. it’s so bright and real and it makes you need to kiss her.

you grin back at her and cross the length of the room to sit on the edge of the bed. you splay a hand over her stomach, palm a little cold in comparison to the warmth of her bare belly. your fingers spread to catch the fabric of her jeans and dull green shirt. she smiles wider, lips quirking up in the lightest of smirks. she’s trying not to react to your hand on her like that.

“you’re so pretty, you know that?” you report faithfully. her hand moves to yours, fingers playing absetmindedly with yours.

“hard not to when you tell me every day,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you a bit more comfortably. she’s so cute it makes your brain go fuzzy. the subtle smirk on her face is as incredibly endearing as it is sexy and you’re now very intent on making her feel good if she’ll let you. lucky for you, jo does not have a tendency to ever turn you down.

you tilt your head at her, still grinning. “good.” your hand travels to her hip, and her fingers attached to yours follow. her skin is soft when you smooth your thumb over her exposed hip bone. “c’mere,” you urge softly, giving the waistband of her jeans a light tug. the look on her face is knowing and eager as she quickly sits up. with practiced ease, she swings a leg over yours, coming to straddle your lap. the weight of her thighs on top of yours makes you sigh out in contentment.

your unoccupied hand joins the other on her hips and you tilt your head to look at her with fond adoration. “so pretty in my lap,” you murmur, hands squeezing lightly. you can’t resist sliding them up to her waist to feel her skin and slip a fingertip or two under her cotton cami. a huff of breath leaves her lips as your thumbs rub lingering circles into her sides.

she dips her head to kiss you, and you meet her soft lips with a hefty sense of satisfaction. there are no complaints from you when she immediately deepens the kiss, her steady tongue pushing against your lips. you let her in more than willingly, swirling your own tongue around hers. it doesn’t take long before your teeth clash and her hands are gripping at your shoulder and the back of your neck. 

her hips push against your hands and you revel in the way that simple contact with your hands and mouth can get her worked up so quick. she doesn’t have to ask for more for you to give it. one hand slides around her waist and down to her ass, giving her two light taps as you pull away from her. 

“up,” you instruct simply, voice a little breathless from the kiss. “jeans off, love.” jo doesn’t hesitate to stand, using your shoulders to steady herself. her hands fly to the waistband of her pants, but you stop her, grabbing her wrists at the last moment. you’ve changed your mind; you wanna take them off for her. so you bring her hands down to her sides and lean forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to the skin of her lower stomach, right above the fabric of her jeans. your hands are back on her hips, fingering with the waistband.

“sorry, sugar,” you murmur, your breath fanning softly over his skin, “wanted to do it myself.” one of her hands makes its way to the back of your head, and you can feel her fingers trembling with the effort of keeping her touch mostly gentle.

she hums softly. “’s okay.” her voice comes out a little hoarse. “love it when you take ‘em off f’me.”

you smile against her skin, your nose still brushing over the spot right below her belly button. “good,” you whisper, tipping your head to look up at her. your fingers slip over to the button of her jeans, deftly popping it open and tugging the zipper down. your hands push under the fabric and slide around to cup her ass over her panties. “want you to ride my thigh, sweet girl,” you inform her. “you want your panties on or off?”

she groans lowly at your words, spoken all husky as you look up at her from your spot by her waist. “off,” she huffs out. 

you grin at her choice, “you’re already wet enough for that?” you half-tease. but you really don’t want to rough up her sensitive skin too much. her head tips back a little at your words, a soft sound escaping her lips.

“always wet for you.” she looks down at you through half-lidded eyes and a sweet smirk.

“that’s my girl.” with that, you grab the hem of both her jeans and underwear before tugging them down her hips until they fall to the floor on their own. you splay your hands over her bare hips, tugging her just a little closer to press another kiss to her lower stomach to tease her. she inhales sharply at that, and it makes you smirk lightly against her skin. but you don’t feel too mean, so you pull her all the way back into your lap, spreading your legs a bit so she can land on your thigh.

jo lets out a muffled moan at the contact of your jeans against her bare cunt and you squeeze her hips, pleased. she’s so warm against you.

you slide your hands down to her thighs, thumbs pressing into the spot where they meld into her hips. her hands hold your shoulders tightly, the pads of her fingers digging into your flesh. “whenever you want, baby,” you murmur. that’s all she needs to hear to start grinding her hips over your leg. the first drag is slow and it makes her groan softly.

your hands find their way back to her hips, then up her waist as she continues her movements. one warm hand slides around to her back, slipping up her shirt to rest between her shoulder blades. the other smooths over her tummy, rubbing all over the sensitive skin and dipping lower to rub soft circles with your thumb over the spot where the little light brown hairs on her stomach start to thicken. the muscles of her stomach tense under your touch, and you bet that if you were rid of your jeans, you’d be able to feel her pussy clenching around nothing against your thigh.

and of course, as her movements pick up in speed, and sweet sounds fall from her mouth, you can’t help but slip both hands under her shirt to cup her boobs and play teasingly with her nipples. you push her shirt up so that you can see them, framed perfectly by your hands. you groan at the sight combined with the feel of her desperately grinding over you.

“so pretty like this,” you murmur. “so, so pretty. love it when you ride my thigh, honey. you love it too, huh?”

she nods her head, breath coming in short gasps. jo is about to answer you, but you bounce your leg, sending a jolt through her and pulling out a gorgeously strangled cry from her throat.

“you sound so pretty, too,” you praise through a cocky grin. “my pretty girl. my pretty girl, jo.” she nods again, almost absentmindedly this time, panting as she tries to pick up the pace of her movements. but her sweet hips stutter as she gets close.

“h-help me, baby,” she attempts at a demand, but her voice is all breathy and strained. you oblige anyway, because you’re not the type to deny her. usually. your hands on her hips start to guide her, helping her keep a steady pace. she huffs and moans and your gaze trails up and down, from the soft curls of her light hair, the pleasured crease between her brows and softly parted lips, to the sight of her exposed breasts and hardened nipples, and finally down to the tensing of her thighs, her cunt pushing against your leg, and the dark, wet spot on your jeans.

“fuck, baby, you’re so good,” you groan, rhythmically clenching the muscles of your thigh or bouncing your leg to push her closer to the edge. “you gonna cum on my thigh, love? you gonna soak my jeans through?”

“c-close,” she moans out. “close, sugar.” you think it’s so sweet when she calls you that, even when she’s half-way to speechless from how good you’re making her feel.

“i know you are,” you practically croon. “you can do it, baby. want you to cum for me.” you attach your lips to her neck, sucking and licking to add as much stimulation as you can. and when you hear her moaning jump in pitch and feel her hips stutter again, you pull away, drinking in the look on her face as she ruts against your thigh, so close to you that her chest brushes against yours and her knee presses right between your legs.

“g-god,” she chokes out, “fuck.” jo throws her head back, neck shiny with sweat and saliva, and you feel her sweet cum, so warm as it soaks through the fabric of your jeans.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me,” you praise softly, entirely pleased with this all as you work her through it, still dragging her hips over you until her head falls to your shoulder and she just about collapses against you. she clumsily presses an open mouth kiss to your neck, and you wrap an arm around her, keeping her steady. “i fuckin’ love you,” you murmur into the blonde mess of her hair, hand soothing up and down the soft skin of her back.

“i love you too,” she mumbles, staying put, right there in your lap. jo loves to be close to you, staying warm, intimate, loved, and heard.

TAGLIST

⟢ SPN; general (all supernatural fics, including nsfw so your age must be 18+ and visible on your blog) : @toadspondofwhimsy ; @mxltifxnd0m ; @figurantedefilme ; @angelicjackles ; @ohsc

⟢ kinktober : @this-is-me19 ; @ponygyatt ; @tranquilitybasegrunge ; @anu-piyakya97 ; @yeyrpp2 ; @maeve-24

send an ask / dm to be added !

[fandomtherapy44]

Behind the roadhouse Dean x reader

Summary: Y/n has a bit of a crush on Dean but there's kind of a problem. He's a Winchester

paring: Dean x reader

WC:3,081

Warnings: Language, SMUT 18+

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Monsters- Vampires, werewolves,ghouls and those aren't even the scary parts of my life. Try to deal with creepy men while working at a bar. Not just any bar, a hunter's bar, my family's bar. My mom Ellen Harville is one of the most badass women you'll ever meet and one of the toughest people but a loving mom. My little half-sister Jo is the other most important person in my life. Well, she’s twenty four so not so little but she will always be to me. My Mom had me with a random hookup she had when she was younger, told him and he took off so when I met Bill I was hesitant but then he became the best father that I ever got and I got a little sister out of the deal too. But then he died in a hunter accident so my mom forbade Jo and I not to hunt but then two sons walked into the bar and a particular Winchester got me not just enthralled with helping people from monsters but in him.

I was wiping down the bar when two tall handsome strangers walked in. “Hey there, welcome to the roadhouse. What can I do for you to get information, a drink, or both?” I finished with a smile mainly focusing on the blonde one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for green eyes. He gives me a flashing smile. “Hey there…” “Y/n” “Y/n, we’re looking for Ellen Harville do you know her?” “I better she’s my mom I’ll be right back.” They both look at each other in confusion. I walk back to the little kitchen. “Hey Mom, two guys are here looking for you.” She gets up and follows me back to them. “Hey there fellows I heard you're looking for me.”

���Uh yeah we’re John Winchester's sons and we got your call.” And the rest flew by so quickly. Ash helped Sam to look up information on the case and while that happened Dean and I had a talk. I poured him a drink and slid it to him. “What’s this for?” I shrugged while sipping a coke. “For your Dad, I'm sorry for your loss.” He took it and shot it back like it was water. “Thanks, you sound like you know the pain.” “My dad passed when I was thirteen so I know how it feels.” My heart panged with pain a little like it did every time I thought of my Dad. “Oh well, I'm sorry for you too, cheers to our dad’s.” We raise our glasses and I'm left with a thought that Dean Winchester doesn't seem like a bad guy.

After that, Sam and Dean would visit us whenever they could and when they needed info. Dean’s and I’s relationship just grew and grew with every late-night talk, pool game, and drink. And it was scaring the shit out of me. I was closing up the bar and Dean and I were having another one of our talks. “Burger or hotdog?” he asks me. “Uh hotdog, is there any other choice.” I playfully responded. “What do you mean hotdog crazy lady?” “So I'm assuming your burger.” I leaned down to his level and he gave me his signature smirk. “Of course.”

With that, he swiped his tongue over his lips while he was staring at me. We both had the same idea we leaned in and to be this close was intoxicating, his breath hot and our noses were touching but my mom did not like our idea. “Dean we are closing for the day.” my mom said from the doorway and we quickly pulled away. “Uh right sorry I'll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me one more look before he walked out. “Mom! What the hell!” “You can not be with that Man!” “Why?” She looked down thinking about something but decided against it. “Just please be careful with those boys.” She turned away before I could ask any more questions.

Dean and Sam had not been back since night. I mean they're busy but it felt personal to me. I tried to forget those butterflies that I got every time I got around Dean but for some reason I couldn't. Every guy that I had been with wasn’t really serious and I was fine with that but then I met Dean and in my locked trunk of hopes in my heart that maybe he was different. And he was. 

It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the table for Jo. She sneakily walks in going to the fridge. I flip on the light. “Late-night snacks sis?” She jumped at me. “Jezze Y/n I thought you were Mom.” I get up and go to the fridge to get a beer. Yes, I did need it to deal with my little sister’s attitude. “No, I'm worse. Mom would go easy on you compared to me.” “Y/n please let me go, I can do this!” I sign and sit down. “Sit down Jo.” she does. “Jo look, the reason I'm like this is because I couldn't bear if anything happened to you like… Dad and mom would agree.”

She looks down at her fiddling hands. “N/n I'm doing this because of Dad you got more time with him all I remember are the short times he came back from hunting. If I can do this I won't feel like I barely know him.” She was right. I couldn't take that away from her if this was her way of feeling closer to our Father then I would have to let her, even if that meant hunting. I sigh deeply, standing up and taking out my knife and handed it to her. “What is this?” “It was Dad’s” She looked up at me like I had given her gold.

“But he gave this to you.” “He did but it was his hunting knife and it's just been sitting in my pocket not doing much hunting so it seems right that you take it.” She jumps up and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you.” I pull back to look at her. “You can thank me by sending me the case and the location and call me everyday to make sure you're safe.” She nods her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” We let go. “Okay get out of here before Mom gets up.” She smiles excitedly grabs her bag and practically skips out the door.

She had Ash set up a paper trail of casinos down the state line so Mom wouldn't really know where she was. Mom did not like it but had accepted it. It was about two days in and she finally called me. “Hey, I thought we said every day.” “Sorry, I got distracted.” “By what?” I asked a little confused. “Sam and Dean.” “They're there!” “Yeah I guess we picked up on the same story.” “So you have help good good.” All that was running through my head was Dean. “N/n you okay?” She asked, hearing my pause. “Yes, I am, well call to update me. Love you.” “Love you too sis.” She hung up and I just sat there for a second and the next one I decided what I was going to do.

I walk to the apartment door and knock on it. The door opened and there was Dean. My heart quickens but I play it off cool. “Hey, Dean.” “Hey, Y/n.” He steps aside and I come in. “Y/n what are you doing here?” Jo questioned. “Uh, I wanted to get in and gank this ghost.” “Why didn’t you just come with me in the first place.” That’s a good question and now for a good lie. “I was scared but I fought off the nerves.” That was a shit lie. “Okay well I'll catch you up.” I walk over to the map but not before looking at Dean and he looked back.

We had determined that the ghost was H.H Holmes I know it does sound insane and it is. I was mostly worried about Jo seeing she was exactly Holmes type. We were going to split off in pairs to search but not before I talked to Dean. “Hey” I stepped up to him.”Hey, you ready.” “as I'll ever be.” “Good well I'll be one phone call away.” “I know and if anything happens to Jo-” He put his arm on my shoulder. “It won't.” His eyes are so trusting. “And Dean.” “Mhh.” “You be careful too.” “I will.”

Sam and I were checking upstairs while Jo and Dean went downstairs. “So… did you really want to come.” He asked casually looking around. “Of course, I did for my sister.” He stopped to look at me. “Really that’s what you're going with I mean why not go in the first place and you're scared Y/n I've seen you punch a man square in the face for trying to take your tip.” To be honest I didn't even know myself. “I-” We were rounding the corner and straight into Dean. “Dean Dean!” He kept on walking. “Where’s Jo!” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face me. “She was taken.” He keeps on going and I'm frozen.

We were back in the apartment and I kept walking back and forth. We are looking in the blueprints to see where she could be hidden while Dean’s phone rings. It was my Mom. Fear got stricken through my body how would my Mom even look at me? How would I?” “She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business.” Dean responded back and I thought my lie from before was shit. “Look, we'll get her back.” My heart was thumping.

“The spirit we're hunting, it took her.” I could hear from where I was how worried she was. “She'll be okay, I promise.” “You promise. That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester.” What the fuck does that mean. Dean had the same response. he lowers the phone and hands it to me. “She wants to talk to you.” I shakily take it. “Mom I-” “Dont even how could you let her!” The tears started to fall from my eyes and my face turned red from burning anxiety. “I'm sorry I just wanted her to feel closer to Dad.” “Well, she may be closer than you wanted now!” “You're her big sister!... Im so disapiontted in you.” She hangs up the phone with nothing else. I drop the phone on the bed. “I'll be right back.” I sobily say and run out.

I go out to the alleyway and kick the trashcan out of anger. “AHHH! Fuck!” I punched the wall and in my anger, and I had forgotten it was made out of brick. My knuckles started trickling blood and I slumped down the wall just feeling defeated. A pair of boots showed up in front of me. “Hey” I looked up and it was Dean. “Hey,” I respond softly my voice feeling raw. He sat down next to me. “We're going to find her N/n” I wipe my eyes.

“I shouldn't have let her go she was so desperate to feel something to our dad that I let her go… I'm so stupid.” I put my head in my crossed arms against my knees. “You are not stupid, you're a good sister.”  I dryly chuckle at myself. “I'm a sister who let her only sibling go hunting when I knew the danger.”  He sighs. “When I was sixteen and Sam was twelve we were hunting and I let him go look on by himself a ghost almost killed him.” I turn my head at him.

“Uh, no offense Dean but pep talk sucked.” “I not done the reason he didn't die is because he remembered what I had taught him and he had his tools not just weapons but knowledge and he was ready so is Jo she fine she has an amazing sister looking for her.” I wipe my tears and throw myself in his arms and he catches me. He pets my head in comfort I whisper. “Thank you.” We split apart really close. He leans forward pur noses touching. Then Sam comes running towards. “UH guys I think I know where she is.”

She and the other missing girl had been in a storm drain. When had trapped H.H. ghost and Jo and I got topside. She threw her arms around me. “Are you ok!?” I put my hands on her face. “No no I'm fine just some scratches.” She took out Dad's pocketknife. “This protected me. So thank you.” “Anytime sis.” The boys get out of the drain. Sam and Jo go off to talk and that leaves Dean and I alone. “So….” He starts. I Bear hug him. “Thank you for helping save my sister.” “Of course.” This time I'm going do it. I grab his face and he accepts it, “Ah am.” I look behind him and it's my mom I'm so tried of people fucking cock blocking me.

The ride home let's just say that Christmas with a stepmom twenty years old is more comfortable. We get to the roadhouse and Mom practically drags us in. “Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo and Y/n did good out there, I think their dad would be proud.” Dean tried to reason. “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughters. Alone.” The boys leave. “You're angry. I understand.” Jo started.

“Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it.” I mean I know why she’s angry with me but Sam and Dean? “Is this about me hunting, or something else?” I tried “Mom they were right there, backing us up the whole time.” “Like father, like sons.” “Mom what the fuck is that suppose to mean.” “I’m sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” Both Jo and I look at each other. “Mom what are you not telling us.” 

I went on a little walk after I learned what happened I guess Jo talked to them about it but my emotions were all over the place. Jo and I had a talk which ended in crying and a hug. I didn't know how to feel especially now with Dean.

I was taking the trash out behind the roadhouse when I turned it was Dean. “Ahh Fuck! Dean, I almost threw this trash bag full of dirty napkins at you.” “Yeah shaking in my boots.” We just had a silent silence. “Look I just wanted to say sorry.” I was puzzled. “Why are you sorry?” “Because of my dad.” “Dean that wasn't your… fault.” He steps closer. “I know, but my dad's not here and I am so I'm sorry that Will is not here because of him.” I drop the trash and I kiss him. I didn't care at that moment that my clothes were covered in grease stains and a mix between blood and beer I had to. His lips were a little chapped but still were soft as a cloud. Our lips separated slowly. “I'm sorry I just..” His hands were on my hips now. “Had to.” He finished. 

18+ SMUT……

“I have about thirty minutes before my mom comes looking for me so do you wanna do this ?” He grabbed me and backed me to the wall. “Oh, I wanna do this I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” “Dean you-” I didn't get to finish my sentence before he kissed me again. And yes it was heaven. His tongue starts to prod my lips and I let him in. “Mhh Dean.” “You like that.” “Yes,” I said practically moaning. “How about this.” he goes down my neck slowly sucking on my sweet spots. “You are too good at that Dean.”

“Yeah, hopefully I'm good at this too.” He unbuttons my shirt slowly and kisses down my stomach. To my pants. “This okay.” He was on his knees his hands on my pants band. “Yes.” He pulled down my pants. Grabbed my panties with my teeth to easily pull down. He starts to kiss my inside thigh. “Oh my gosh.” I throw my hand to the wall to steady myself. He kitten licks my slit. “Ahh” He then puts his tongue in me. “Ohh Fuck Dean!” He goes fully in and eats me out like a madman. I am so close. I grab onto his shoulder and grip it tightly. “Just let go honey.” I did and he lapped it up.

“Oh my gosh did you go to school for that.” I breathily let out. “Yeah, I majored in it.” I chuckle and my hand goes to his pants. “Do you want me to return the favor?” He takes my hand. “I would love that but we have about ten minutes left and I want to show you why I graduated at the top of my class.” I nod and he unbuckles his pants and drops them. I look down and his shaft is standing proud. He pulled down his underwear and it was bigger than I expected. “You ready sweetness.”

“Always.” He gently grabs my head kisses me again and starts grinding against me. He then slips in. “Ahh Dean!” “Tell me when I can move,” It feels a little burning but then it turns into pleasure. “Dean you can move.” He goes in and out moving slowly. “Y/n you feel so good.” He grabs onto my hips to pull me up onto around his hips. He thrusts in and out faster and faster. He breaths into my neck and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I'm almost there are you Y/n” “Yes!” “Let's do it together!” He moves down to rub my clit. “Ahh fuck!” “Ok, one two three!” And we did. He pulled out his cock dripping with our fluids together. I then realized the time. “Dean I loved that but you have to go.” he grabs me one more time to leave a sweet kiss. “I'll call you.” “You better Dean Winchester.” He gathers himself and leaves. I didn't know where that left us but at least we would always have behind the roadhouse.

[dianawinchester03]

jo and y/n text thread (besties edition);

this one wasn’t requested, it’s of my own doing and it’s because i love my ‘skank’ and ‘slut’ duo <3

Based on ‘Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Series Rewrite’ of ‘The Old Testament Series’

[prentissluvr]

CRY FOR ME ; MARI’S KINKTOBER 2024

welcome to my first kinktober!! this one’s for the supernatural sapphics and sam lovers! as always, minors and ageless blogs caught interacting will be blocked without a second thought. and i promise, i check :) fics will be posted every tuesday and saturday of the month at 6 p.m. eastern standard time (except the last, which will be posted on the 31st). please enjoy <3

MASTERLIST !

⟢ day one (oct 1) — finger sucking + sam winchester

⟢ day two (oct 5) — thigh riding + jo harvelle

⟢ day three (oct 8) — threesome + sam winchester & jessica moore

⟢ day four (oct 12) — dacryphilia + ruby

⟢ day five (oct 15) — size kink + sam winchester

⟢ day six (oct 19) — edging + charlie bradbury

⟢ day seven (oct 22) — overstimulation + fem!sam winchester

⟢ day eight (oct 26) — cunnilingus + jo harvelle

⟢ day nine (oct 29) — priest kink + sam winchester

⟢ day ten (oct 31) — blood play + ruby

FICS WILL BE POSTED ON @sammyluvr !! moving blogs!

kinktober taglist : @figurantedefilme, @this-is-me19, @ponygyatt, @tranquilitybasegrunge, @toadspondofwhimsy, @anu-piyakya97, send an ask, dm, or comment to @sammyluvr to be added! please have your age visible somewhere on your blog before asking !!!

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview Series Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ for violence, cursing, stalking, trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, SA, sexual content, drugs, alcohol, university inaccuracies

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Cas Novak, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Nick Vaught, Sam Winchester, Lisa Braedan

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Dean Winchester/Reader!AU, College AU, angst, fluff, smut, cliffhanger, no use of Y/N

Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction in almost fifteen years :o This is surprisingly also the first i've ever written for Dean, so i really hope you enjoy <3

Summary

After leaving an abusive relationship with help from your best friend Cas, you aim to start fresh with your new roommates Charlie and Jo this upcoming junior year at University. You settle into your new life—but wounds from the past seem to be reopened. When Cas introduces you to Dean, a Automotive Engineer major with a complicated past of his own, you start to develop feelings, and believe that you can heal together.

But shadows from your old life are never far away. You are being watched from afar. As your feelings for Dean grow, you struggle to let him in, fearing your baggage will put him in danger. When the stalker’s threats escalate, your forced to confront a horrifying truth: your ex-boyfriend is lurking, and has a lethal motive.

The ups and downs of battered lovers in this blossoming relationship in the midst of their schooling...will this bring Dean and you together for worse or for better?

Although, heed this warning. In Rearview, the past is always closer than it appears.

Social Media

Character Moodboards

Settings/Places Moodboards 1/2

Settings/Places Moodboards 2/2

Chapters

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Fragments (RELEASED)

Chapter 2 - Collision Course (RELEASED)

Chapter 3 - Dodges, Deceptions, and Drinks (RELEASED)

Chapter 4 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (RELEASED)

Chapter 5 - Collapse (RELEASED)

Chapter 6 - Still Here (RELEASED)

Chapter 7 - Brick by Brick (RELEASED)

Chapter 8 (4/12)

Chapter 9 (4/19)

Chapter 10 (4/26)

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

[deerlysacred]

ᨒ↟ witch, please... | patching what's left of us | chapter one

⟆ end!verse dean winchester x witch fem!reader

🍄𝄢 i had to delete the previous one and post it again because i couldn't edit some texts and pictures for a reason…? like i could edit them but they wouldn't be placed right like i wanted them to somehow. 🥲 anyways, re-posting this, edited and added some small parts.

🌜𝄢 in this version of series of mine, it had been 2 years since the croatoan virus messed the world up. also yes, the world is in a very bad situation but it's not as bad as the show version. there are multiple survival camps in the world and the croatoans are not that much.

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

The door creaked open loudly, letting in a gust of icy wind that rattled the loose panes of the cabin windows. The blond man looked up from the map spread across an old desk, his jaw set, tired green eyes narrowing when they found your weak and dirty state. He was nursing a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing lazily as he swirled it in his hand.

"Boss," one of his men announced, pushing you forward. "Found her out past the south perimeter. Alone. Didn't look like trouble."

The man set the bottle down with a thunk, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't say anything at first, just dragged his eyes over you like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what was hiding underneath, like he could see whether you were good or bad news. Then he made his men go out with a nod of his head.

"Great," he muttered eventually when you two were alone, letting out a humorless laugh. "Another mouth to feed." His voice was rough, rasping like it had been worn down by too many cigarettes, too many shouted orders, too many sleepless nights. He looked past you, through you, like he was already calculating the cost of keeping you here. "Kinda impressive, considering most folks out there are croats or corpses. What, you got a guardian angel, or are you just stupid lucky?"

The man didn't wait for an answer— it looked like he rarely does. He took a swig of whiskey, eyeing you like you were a puzzle missing half the pieces as you were fiddling with your aching fingers. "Name's Dean. Yeah, the Dean. And if you're not infected, congrats. You just won yourself a room in Camp Chitaqua." His voice dropped, darkening. "Don't make me regret it."

He observed you with a look that made the cabin room feel smaller than it was.

"So," he spoke, voice low and gravelly. "You got a name you mind to share, or should I just call you 'the new gal'?"

"Y/N." you muttered, shifting on your feet under his doubtful gaze. The leader was sizing you up like he had seen a hundred different kinds of bullshit, and he was trying to figure out which category you fell into.

He eventually raised an eyebrow. "Y/N." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Now, the next question, Y/N. How the hell'd you manage to survive out there on your own?"

Your stomach churled, fingers pressing tighter into the fabric of your sleeves.

Careful, you warned yourself, don't be suspicious.

"I… I got lucky." you bit your tongue subtly because of your stammer, not a great start.

Dean didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Yeah? You managed to survive out there all alone, just a girl? Guess we'll see how lucky you really are then."

Then his gaze dropped to your wrist.

Shit.

Before you could react, he stood up and walked to you in a few big steps, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm in an iron grip. His fingers burned against your cold skin as he yanked your sleeve up, exposing the tattoo you tried so hard to keep hidden. The triskelion and crescent moon stood out like a brand against your wrist.

Dean's eyes darkened, recognition passing in an instant.

"Son of a bitch." His voice was a growl as he shoved you back towards the timeworn couch behind, you gasped as you sat down, his hand already pulling a gun from his thigh-holster. The cold barrel pressed against the middle of your forehead, making you flinch.

"Wisteria Coven," he spat. "You wanna tell me why the hell you got this burned into your skin?"

Your mind started to race, you could swear your heart was going to jump out. You've seen that look countless times before. Disgust, anger, prjudgement, fea— No, not fear. More like precaution, this time. He wasn't just suspicious of you now. He knew what that symbol meant. Witches. Magic. Danger.

"I left them," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm not with them anymore."

Dean's grip tightened, and you could feel the muzzle pressing harder on your skin. "Yeah? You expect me to believe that? You've got five seconds to explain why I shouldn't gank you right here."

Your lips parted, trembling slightly as you spoke. "Please," you gulped, tears stinging your eyes. "I'm alone. They're dead. I didn't have a choice. Please— I'm not like them. I just want to live…"

Dean's finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger. He didn't move, didn't even blink as he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of a lie or a fucked up trick.

I'm going to die.

It was all you could think. After everything you've been through and managed to survive somehow, this was how it would end.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Dean cursed under his breath. "Goddammit." he muttered, lowering the gun. You let out a shaky breath, you raised your hands, showing no threat as you stood up slowly.

Oh, okay… He's not going to kill me. Not yet.

Dean shoved the gun back into his thigh-holster. "Fine," he said, voice cold. "But hear me, and hear me good— if you so much as think about casting some freaky-ass spell with your pretty little head, you're dead. No hesitation."

You nodded quickly, holding your wildly beating heart. "I won't. I swear."

Dean shot you one more look, like he debating whether you were worth the bullet. Then he shook his head, sighing. "You better not if you don't want me to open a hole on you."

He turned away, rubbing a hand over his face before grabbing a flashlight from the desk. "Come on," he said gruffly. "We ain't got any empty tents. And leaving you outside… Yeah, no. Not with the horny bastards out there."

Your feet stuttered mid-step. I'm sorry, the what? You followed him silently after you quickly noted that info, your heart still racing. You could feel the weight of the tattoo on your wrist like it was your death warrant.

I should've cut it off. I should've get rid of it somehow.

Dean didn't even bother to check if you were still behind him— just assumed you'd keep up probably. Which, honestly, was fair. You had no real options here, unless you'd suddenly develop a burning desire to sleep outside with the horny bastards. (You really, really wanted a clarification on that, but maybe later. When a gun hasn't been pointed at your head within the last ten minutes.)

Dean swinged the flashlight down a dim hallway, illuminating wood walls lined with old photographs and peeling beige wallpaper. The scent of dust, whiskey, and worn leather lingered in the air— lived-in, but not quite homey.

"You can stay in one of the rooms up here," he said, flashing the light down towards a room. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall. Don't touch my stuff. Don't wander around. And don't—"

"Cast spells..?" You finished for him, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

Dean shot you a look over his shoulder, his lips twitching in what might’ve (?) been a smirk. "Smartass." He jerked his chin toward a door. "That one's yours. Get some sleep. You're gonna need it."

You hesitated, but curiosity overcame when he spoke like you were gonna have to go to school or army training tomorrow morning. "Why?"

Dean gave a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Because this ain't a damn charity, sweetheart. Now that you're here, that means you gotta pull your weight. Everybody's got jobs. Patrol, hunting, supply runs, cleaning, cooking—" he leveled a serious look at you, "—and if you can't cook, I swear to God, don't try. Last thing we need is another food poisoning incident."

You bit your bottom lip, giving him a curious smile. "Oh? What happened?"

Dean's expression went flat and he rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna name names, but someone —Jo— thought powdered eggs and canned chili were a match made in heaven. We lost good men that day."

You blinked, surprised. "They died?"

"No. But they wished they had. Anyway, I'll be on a supply run with some of my men tomorrow, you can look for chores you can manage. Just... don't cause trouble, don't start any witchy crap, and don't piss off the guys with guns. Most of 'em don't have my self-control."

You nodded, fingers curling tight around the doorknob. "Got it."

Dean gave you one last look, eyes flickering down your body with an unreadable gaze before exhaled sharply. "Good."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You cracked your eyes open with the occasional talking of people outside and the singing of the birds, your breath fogging in the chill of the room. You blinked up at the ceiling, letting the silence settle around you for a moment.

Last night had been… intense, you really thought that leader was gonna blow your head off but he had a tiny bit of mercy, seemingly. It was gonna be real hard to convince him that you were trustworthy though…

But hey, at least you were alive, right? That was something.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet pressing into the worn floorboards. The clothes you found in the closet last night —a pair of jeans and a faded black sweater— fit well enough, though they smelled faintly of dust and men's cologne. You took a shower in the cramped bathroom before you went to bed last night, scrubbing away days of mud and blood.

Your eyes drifted to the window. The camp was waking up.

Guess I should figure out what I'm supposed to do here.

"Dean?" you called softly, stepping out into the hallway. Silence.

Of course, he wasn't here. He said he was gonna be on a supply run. He seemed like the kind of man who woke with the dawn anyway— or maybe never really slept at all. You bit your lip, debating your next move.

You needed a jacket before heading outside.

Your gaze lingered on a closed door down the hall. Dean's room.

Hell, no. You shook your head. Bad idea. You weren't that stupid to snoop around his stuff. So instead, you wandered into a smaller room that looked like storage. There were chests and boxes piled high, many of them covered in dust. You knelt down, popping open a large chest in the corner. Your fingers sifted through blankets, some old clothes, until something caught your eye— a worn brown hoodie.

It was big, way too big for you, but the fabric was soft, and it smelled clean. You pulled it on, the hem reaching past your hips, the sleeves covering your hands.

Cozy, good enough.

You stepped outside, squinting against the crowded part of the camp. People were already moving around, tending to tasks and chores. You stood there awkwardly, watching them. Some nodded and looked in your direction, but most seemed too busy to care.

Your eyes wandered to a tent with a small fire burning outside of it. A metal pot sat over the flames, steam curling from its spout. Coffee. Your mouth watered at the sight of it.

You approached shyly, feeling like an intruder, but no one seemed to stop you. You grabbed a freshly cleaned metal cup from a stack on the table and poured yourself some of the bitter liquid. The warmth of the cup against your hands was comforting, there was no sight of any food or anything like that near. You must've missed the breakfast, it seemed like you were stuck with coffee.

Better than nothing.

You walked around the camp, observing the layout. There were rows of tents, a few makeshift shelters, and the large cabin you were staying in with Dean. The air smelled of smoke and damp earth. It was quieter than you expected— almost peaceful.

As you passed by a woman and a man chatting near one of the tents, you couldn't help but to listen to their words.

"Dean's already out?" the woman asked.

"Left before dawn," the man replied. "Supply run into the city. The winter is doing its number on us again, nothing new. He's not gonna be back until evening, probably."

Your stomach clenched. Great. He's not gonna be here to keep an eye on me… or maybe that's worse. How the hell am I going to prove to him that I'm not a burden now? I could at least ask him about the ways I could help around here…

You were so lost in thought that you didn't see the small hole in the ground until it was too late. Your boot caught, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before you fell.

The woman and man stopped talking, their eyes snapping to you directly. You straightened, pretending to brush dirt from your jeans with panic though you didn't even touch the floor.

"Uh— sorry…" you muttered, embarrassed. The man raised an eyebrow, and the woman gave a small, amused smile. Neither said anything, though, and you quickly turned on your heel, walking away.

What a great first impression.

Your hand brushed against the hot coffee cup, and you winced as you realized now, that a few drops of coffee must've been poured onto your hand when you stumbled. "Shit…" you hissed, shaking out your fingers.

Eventually, you found yourself near a large tree at the edge of the camp. The branches stretched wide, providing shade and a place to sit. You sank down at the base of the tree with a sigh, finally letting yourself relax.

"Seriously?" a voice came from the other side of the tree suddenly, making you jump. "Can't a man spend some quality time alone with his buddy at the end of the world?"

You scrambled to your feet, heart pounding. You peered around the tree to find a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, a small squirrel perched on his lap. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were piercing blue, looking up at you with a calm amusement.

"Oh— I didn't mean to interrupt," You stammered, taking a step back. "Shall I… go?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "No need. Sit." He patted the ground next to him. "I'm not gonna bite. Neither is she." He held the tiny paw of the squirrel and made it wave at you, making the squirrel turn its attention towards you as it was focused on eating a peanut seconds ago.

You smiled at the cute scene, hesitating before lowering yourself back down, keeping a distance. The squirrel watched you with curious eyes, its tiny paws still clutching the peanut.

"You're new here," the man said, his voice soft but steady. "What's your name?"

You hugged the hoodie tighter as a breeze came along, answering softly. "Y/N."

"I'm Castiel," the man said after a moment. He offered you a hand. "And this—" he gestured to the squirrel— "is Themis."

You frowned as you shook his hand, noting the strength in his grip. "Themis? Like… the goddess?"

Castiel's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yes. The goddess of justice."

You glanced at the squirrel, who seemed far more interested in nibbling on its food than… dispensing justice.

Castiel chuckled knowingly before you could ask the obvious question, eager to talk about his little buddy. "She brought me justice once."

You tilted your head, curious. "How so?"

"Someone stole my bag of nuts one day," Castiel explained. "I didn't notice until I saw her dragging the bag back to me." He paused, stroking Themis's fur. "She carried it all the way across camp, like a tiny Lady Justice. She brought it back to me— every last one."

You smirked as you glanced at the squirrel, then back at Castiel. "Or she stole them for herself and felt bad about it."

Castiel chuckled. "Could be."

You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. Sitting there with Castiel and Themis felt so normal and peaceful despite the chaos of the world, you finally managed to make a friend— sorry, friends without them pointing a gun at you. Cool.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Camp Chitaqua. You wiped the sweat from your brow, leaning on your shovel as you surveyed the area. You've spent hours cleaning up the trash, clearing leaves, and dragging fallen branches away from the main paths.

Themis, Castiel's squirrel, had been darting around your feet for the past hour, playfully chasing the movement of the shovel as if it were a game. Every time you dug into the ground, the little creature scurried after it, its fluffy tail flicking in excitement.

"Shoo…" You murmured, trying to gently nudge Themis away with your boot. "You're gonna get hurt."

But Themis was energetic and determined. She darted in closer, pouncing at the dirt you were moving.

This squirrel is relentless.

You shifted your grip on the shovel and swung it to scoop up more debris— only to feel a soft thud against the wood.

"Oh, shit." you dropped the shovel immediately, your eyes wide.

Themis let out a startled squeak and stumbled backwards, her little body shaking.

"I'm so sorry!" you knelt down quickly, reaching out a hand to pet her and check if she was alright. "Are you okay?"

From across the camp, Castiel's head snapped up. His conversation with a pair of women —who were clearly charmed by him— ended abruptly as he ran over.

"Themis!" he gasped, dropping to his knees beside the squirrel. He gently scooped her up, cradling her in his hands like she was a baby. "Are you hurt, my little goddess?"

You bit your lip, guilt flooding your chest. "I didn't mean to— she was playing with the shovel, and I—"

Castiel held up a hand, silencing you. He inspected Themis carefully before letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. "She's fine."

You let out a breath you haven't realized you were holding. "Thank god."

Castiel glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Themis is forgiving, but the goddess of justice does not forget. Karma will come for you soon enough."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. "I'll keep that in mind."

As Castiel set Themis down gently on the ground, a low rumble echoed through the camp. You glanced towards the entrance, where three large black jeeps rolled in, their tires kicking up dust.

The vehicles came to a stop, and men began piling out, carrying bags and crates of supplies.

Dean was the first to step out, his green eyes scanning the camp as he ran a hand through his hair. His expression was hard and tired. Before he could take two steps, the woman who saw you stumble earlier in the morning marched towards him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Dean," she snapped, "you could've told me you were heading to the city. I would've come with you."

Dean gave her a glance, his jaw tightening. "Not now, Risa."

"But—"

"I said, not now." His tone left no room for argument.

Risa huffed in frustration but didn't push further. Dean continued walking, giving instructions to the men unloading supplies. His gaze swept over the camp, and then it landed on you.

He froze mid-step.

You shifted nervously, your shovel still in hand. Dean's eyes darkened as they locked onto the brown hoodie you were wearing, for a moment, shock flickered across his face.

Then came the anger.

His jaw clenched, and he stormed towards you, eyes narrowing as he closed the distance.

"Y/N," he called out, voice sharp.

Your heart pounded as he towered over you, that expression of his face alone made you feel way more afraid than when he pointed a gun at you yesterday.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" he demanded, voice low yet barely hiding the rage behind it.

You blinked. "I—I needed something warm, so I found this in the storage room—"

"That's not storage." Dean's voice was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air between you. "That's my house."

Your stomach dropped. "I didn't mean to—"

"Did you snoop around?" His voice rose, drawing attention from a few nearby people. "Did you go through my stuff?"

"No!" You shook your head quickly. "I just needed a jacket. I swear I didn't touch anything else."

Dean's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His gaze flicked back to the hoodie, and for a brief moment, something raw flashed in his eyes— pain, maybe, or grief.

It wasn't just a hoodie.

It belonged to someone.

Someone who mattered a lot to him.

Dean took a step closer, looking down at you coldly. His voice dropped to a growl. "Don't. Go. In. My house. Ever. Again."

You swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at you for a long moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving you standing there, confused and humiliated.

Castiel wandered over, his hands in his pockets.

"Don't take it personally," he said, offering you a sympathetic smile. "Dean… carries a lot of baggage."

You glanced down at the hoodie you were wearing, your fingers brushing over the worn fabric. Your bottom lip quivered as you nodded, trying not to cry because of guilt. You felt Castiel's arm wrapping around your shoulder hesitantly, he patted your back gently to soothe you.

"Karma," he said softly, tilting his head towards Themis, who was jumping around his boots. "It works fast."

You gave him a weak chuckle, but inside, your chest felt tight.

I shouldn't be here.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader AU

Summary: Dean Winchester and Y/N Singer have been best friends since childhood—until one dream changes everything. After a drunken mishap and the resurface of feelings buried, the line of friendship is crossed. The solution? The Arrangement. However, as their story unfolds, lines blur, jealousy flares, and before long, they’re forced to face the truth—maybe “the one” has been beside them all along.

Set in the year 2005 (for reference)

AN: I'm too excited, I have to share the news!!! This story has been a WIP for a while now. It's something I have really enjoyed writing and would love to share with you all. So join me on a thrilling ride of all of our favourite tropes in fan-fiction of love, angst, smut, heartbreak and everything else 😘

Main Masterlist

Chapters containing adult themes/smut (18+ ONLY) will contain **

Series complete ✅

Chapter One

Chapter Two **

Chapter Three **

Chapter Four

Chapter Five **

Chapter Six **

Chapter Seven **

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (End) **

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like and their respective series 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77