#au dean winchester

[catscardigan]

9/25 ✅🤘🏼

This is what a years worth of stitching looks like (worth nothing I had to take a couple of months off from August with a back flare up 😩)

Always be crediting the legend artist that is @winchester-reload for giving me permission to use their work for this piece 🖤

[goldenispunk]

Firefighter!Dean because he deserved that happy ending 🧡

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine. 

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[apocalypseornaw]

In Every Life

"Dean!" You squealed laughing and dodging the water balloons your husband and daughter were pelting you and your son with. It was a warmer night and summer so the two of you had decided to let the twins stay up late, complete with setting a projector up in the backyard to watch a movie.

Everything was calm while you and Henry watched the movie, it was a shared favorite but you should've known they were up to something when Dean and Ellie snuck into the house. A few moments later you heard Dean call your name right before a water balloon exploded between you and Henry.

Turns out Dean had filled a bucket with water balloons and a few dozen small water guns were hid around the yard. Pretty soon Sam and Jess had heard the laughter from next door so the two of them, Lexie and Eric had joined as well.

The playing field was even enough, dads and daughters versus moms and sons. You were soaked to the bone but laughing hard enough you had tears forming in your eyes, especially when Sam slid down in the mud.

Once the water balloons were gone and the guns empty Jess rounded the kids up "C'mon all you little Winchesters. Go get dry and pjs on. I'll go hit the pantry for smores supplies"

Once the two of you were alone you turned to look at Dean and he grinned before pulling you into his arms "Sweetheart, I'm not gonna lie you look like the most beautiful drowned sewer rat I've ever seen" you slapped his chest playfully "And yet you're the one who fell in love with this sewer rat" "How could I not?" He replied before pulling you into a kiss.

"See what you needed to in this world?" Bobby asked from where he stood behind Dean. He nodded "She really does choose me in every life" Bobby stepped up to put a hand on the younger man's shoulder "I told you that. That girl would choose you over anyone. Sam will take care of her in your world until she makes it to your side but she'll never stop loving you. The two of you were made for each other. Some worlds you get your happy ending, some worlds it ends big and bloody but she's always at your side no matter the world"

Dean felt an ache in his chest, remembering how sad your eyes were that day but he hoped you'd live a long time before joining him. Then the two of you wouldn't be separated again.

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (15) FIN

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, post break up, daddy Dean, fluff, new beginnings, hopeful ending

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (14)

“So, uh—how did your interview go?” Dean watches you walk back inside his home. While you had a meeting with Bobby, he was babysitting your son. “Y/N. What did Bobby say?”

“Bobby said that I could start next week. I told him that I’d need a few more days to talk to organize everything. I need to sell my house and get my shit over here,” you grumble. “Bobby offered to help me with everything. He’s got a dude for everything.”

“A dude?” Dean snorts.

“His words, not mine, Winchester,” you stick your tongue out. “So, you offered your help. I’d like to go house hunting next week.”

“Oh—sure,” he nervously plays with his phone. He points at your son, shushing you when you sit down on the couch. Michael is sleeping on Dean’s couch, cuddling his favorite plushie, and you smile. “I can ask Sammy to check on the legal stuff.”

Dean is squirming in his seat, nervously glancing at Michael sleeping soundly on his couch. “Why are you so nervous?” You watch him place his phone on the coffee table. “Dean, what did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he raises his hands. “I swear it was all his idea. That’s not my fault at all, sweetheart. Michael decided that he wants to live here with us from now on.”

“Enlighten me, Dean, lying bitch Winchester. How did my son get the idea that I’ll allow him to live here with you?” You put your hands on your hips and glare at Dean. “I’m waiting, Dean.”

“He doesn’t want to live here with me,” Dean grins now. “He wants to leave here with us. Mommy and Daddy.” That bastard dares to wink at you. You harrumph. How dare he put ideas in Michael’s head. “What do you say? Do you want the left or the right side of the bed?”

Dean enjoys the struggle on your face. You don’t know if you want to laugh about his cockiness or strangle him. Maybe both. His cocky attitude and smirk got you weak in the knees in the past.

“DEAN WINCHESTER!” You hiss under your breath. “You can’t ask me that after everything happening over the last few days. What happened in the past can’t be undone. We cannot just start over, Dean.”

“Why not?” He questions. “You are here. My son is here. We are going to work together from now on. You got your revenge on my mother, and the ring looks good on your finger. If there was ever a moment screaming second chance, it’s this one.”

“That was cheesy, Dean,” you snort. “Only because I turned my back on Ketch, my job, and my life in London doesn’t mean that we are going to get back together. It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Dean says again. He slowly gets up from the couch to cup your face with both hands. “I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped loving you. And, if fate doesn’t want to fuck me over again, you love me too.”

“Mommy?” Michael stirs in his sleep. He slowly wakes up and rubs his face with his plushie. “I’m tired.”

“I’m here, baby boy,” you say, shaking your head at Dean before you take care of your son. He slowly gets up and lets you guide him toward the guestroom Dean offered to your son for the time being.

“So—what do you say, Michael?” Dean pokes your son’s side, making Michael giggle. “Can I ask your mommy out?”

“Only if you get her ice cream too!” Your son exclaims. “Mommy said a perfect date ends with ice cream.” Your son whispers the last part, conspiring with his father. “Don’t tell her I told you so. She likes vanilla.”

“Vanilla,” Dean nods. “Noted.”

“BUT NO KISSING!” Your son suddenly says. “You can’t kiss my mommy. All her kisses are only for me.” Michael pouts. “That one guy asking her out tried to kiss her.”

Dean nods thoughtfully as his son tells him he kicked the poor man’s shin. You never heard of Steven again. He ran for the hills, never looking back.

Dean grins. “You protected your mommy from other men. Well done, son. But I can kiss your mommy, right?”

Michael nods while looking at the picture of you and Dean in the photo album he found on the coffee table. After you claimed his bedroom and told Dean to sleep on the couch, he was looking at old pictures last night.

“Hmm…” Michael wrinkles his forehead, thinking about Dean’s question. “Only if I can drive your Impala.”

“Bud, you’re too young to drive a car.”

“Not now,” your son grins. “When I get my driving license, you’ll give me your car.” He purses his lips and crosses his arms over his chest.

Dean gasps. His son is the devil in disguise. “You’re a hard negotiation partner.”

“Mommy or your car!” Michael grins. “You can have one kiss if I get your car!”

“You are selling your mommy for a car, Michael?” You lean in the door frame, giving your son a stern look. “This means no ice cream for you.”

“Aww…man. Now I won’t get ice cream,” your son sighs deeply. “It was worth a try.” He grins. “One day, I’ll get his car. Right, mommy?”

“Sure, baby boy.” You smirk at Dean. “Your daddy will give you his car because you allowed him one kiss.”

“Well, in that case,” Dean gets up from the couch to stalk toward you. “I’d better get that kiss and lots of ice cream.”

“I thought you loved pie,” you chuckle.

“I love you,” he replies.

Dean steps closer and closer to cup your face. He brushes his lips over yours, ready to claim your lips in a soft kiss.

“Eeek…” Your son scrunches up his nose. “No kissing before you bought mommy ice cream.”

Dean and you start laughing and hug each other. It’s the first time that you can forget about the past and think about the future.

The End...

Tags in reblog.

[glooumnastas]

The new ship dynamic is himbo x stoner

[sweetonsugden]

We deserved this. This was a lost opportunity! 😆

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Summary: One weekend, years ago, lives rent-free in both of their minds. Three-part mini-series.

Characters: AU Dean Winchester x female reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, pining, clothed sex, couch sex, hungover sex, fluff, roomies to lovers, idiots in love

Words: 5,500

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester- A Promise

Pairing: Dean Winchester x PlatonicFem!Reader

Pov: Dean Winchester

Warnings: Fluff, Angst-ish, Yelling, Cursing, 18+

Summary: When Mary Winchester ruins her relationship with both Dean and Sam. Y/n only wants to help, so she sets something special up for Dean.

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers; this is a request from anon.

WC- 1.0k

Dean W. Master List // Main Master List // Requests Master List

Listening to my mother come up with some bullshit excuse was more than I needed in my life at this point. She claims she's not blind to the way the Brits work, but I think that's bullshit. We both think it's bullshit.

Sam had been taken and tortured by these guys, and all the other bullshit they had dragged us into. She was less than understanding of the fake people she was working with. Sam is more than disappointed; he never grew up with Mom. I did, but it's not like four years can make a real change. Mary wasn't the same person I knew so long ago.

"When did you start working for them?" Sam asks he looks so sad, but I can't throw my own anger to support him right now. We had been around a lot of liars, we are liars ourselves. "Since the lake house, it was their case." I stand there dumbfounded that we were somehow having this conversation standing in the bunker.

"You kept that from us." I relive the whole moment, Cass had almost died. Her words just started to mold together. her bullshit lies. A hunter had died, and all for what a better way of doing things. I could never believe that my mother was that type of person. The person who puts herself before others.

"Our whole lives you've been gone. You said that you needed time. No, you said you needed space, so we gave you your space. No, you needed space from us." She stares at me and my younger brother, and I can feel another set of eyes on me. Y/n, a girl we found over eight years ago. She was a young adult, but to me, she was my daughter a daughter that I don't think I'd ever want to walk away from especially not how my mother just did.

"I'm your mother, but I am not just a mom, and you are not a child" My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I hear the words hit my ears. Not a child, I never got the chance. "I was never a child, so between us and them." Mary desperately tries to back the situation out of the corner it's been driving itself into. "It's not like that Dean." I swallow the words that want to come up, and look over at Sam, "Yeah it is Mary, and you made your choice so there's the door."

I at this point end up just walking away, my heart is broken and the tears burning at the edges of my eyes are hurting more than the anger I'm pushing further down in my chest. My daughter watches as I brush past her and into my room. Slamming the door, that's when the true and real emotion comes falling out of me. The tears fall and the way I just can't catch my breath.

I had just gotten her back, Sam had just started learning about his mother from his mother. All for Mary to go and fuck it all up because she wasn't honest because she lied to both of us. It's hours before I leave my room.

A knock on my door is what had me dragging my ass out of my room. the tears had stopped only a few hours ago, and the only thing that sat in my chest was the burning, boiling anger. I open the door, and there's my daughter Y/n standing with hopeful and sad eyes. "Dean, do you want to maybe come and watch a few movies with me?" She asks her voice cherry and trying.

As much as I would have loved to go out and watch a few western movies with her I just couldn't bare the thought of yelling or screaming at her all because of Mary. Or even worse bumping into her because she hasn't left yet. When I had haven't answered Y/n continued, "I even invited Sam, he's waiting for us." She tires, "Honey, I'm really not in the mood right now, so…" She nods like my anger is something she's used to having to work around.

It burns me, but she smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek, "That's alright, Dad, you know where we are." With that Y/n is walking away and I shut the door. The way my heart burns in my chest. My daughter and younger brother were trying to get over the yelling and how Mary had burned everyone here in the bunker.

I stare at the shut door, and then at the picture of Mary and I when I was young. I pull out a book, a diary of sorts. I write down everything that happened. All the emotions I wanted to push deep down, all the things that went wrong, and all the things that could have gone right.

My wrist hurts when I smell popcorn being popped in the kitchen. The laughter that's filling the cold and silent bunker. I close the diary and poke my head out of my bedroom door. The laughter grows and it's a mixture of Sams and Y/ns. I can't help but be drawn in by it. I poke my head into my man cave. The lights are all off, the only light coming from the TV. An old western is playing on the screen, and all my favorite treats are on the table in front of the old couch. "Dean?" I hear Sam question, looking away from the TV, "Yeah, it's me." Y/n's eyes light up and she turns a massive smile on her face, she pats the open spot between her and Sam.

"Come sit here and we can restart the movie." She says with cheer in her voice. I can't help but smile in return, "alright" I move quickly, Sam and Y/n are smiling widely up at me. "What made you come out?" Sam whispered, I dig my hand into the bowl of popcorn, "The food Sammy boy." He rolls his eyes, while Y/n curls up into my side. "It will be okay Dad, I promise," Y/n mutters as the movie restarts. I lean down and kiss her forehead, "I hope so honey."

Completed on: 05/08/2023

Posted on: 05/08/2023

Deanie Beanie Girl- @kazsrm67 @deanswaywardgirl @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @mrspeacem1nusone @dilfloverr @akshi8278 @fofisstilinski @band--psycho @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester @flamencodiva @samsgirl93 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @fanfic-n-tabulous @silverose365 @winchestersbitch-dm @alexxavicry @gabrielasilva1510

[blondie20000]

Supernatural One Shot Collection

Links to the fics are in the titles below.

Season 2

Clubs and Hearts

Summary:

Set during season 2. Jo has left the Roadhouse so she can pursue her life as a hunter. She ends up meeting some very interesting people.

Season 10

The Beauty of Nature

Summary

Castiel decides to show Hannah the world and wants her to see why he cherishes it so much. Set Season 10 after Soul Survivor.

Season 14

Snow Day

Summary:

Jack experiences his first ever snow day.

Scars

Summary:

Anael meets a demon in a bar.

The Road to Hell

Summary:

The Winchesters find a way to save Dean from Michael. This results in Michael becoming the thing that he grew to hate. He ends up going on the road to Hell. Will he make it to the end? Read and find out.

Consequences

Summary:

For some reason Lisa found herself drawn to him. She reaches out and places her hand on his cheek. As soon as she touched him she felt a jolt of electricity go through her. The touch it felt so familiar. The buzz it gave her felt familiar.

"Dean." She repeated his name. "Dean."

Season 15

Sugar, Crumbs and Fiddlesticks

Summary:

Dean's potty mouth gets him into trouble again. Mouth being the key word here.

Unexpected Reunion

Summary:

Set after The Trap. Michael and Amara meet. The Darkness has some things to say to her nephew.

Not so Fit Now Mr Winchester

Summary:

Tag to The Heroes Journey. Just when Dean thought his luck couldn't get any worse.

Angelic Assistance

Summary:

Set after Destiny's Child. The Winchesters receive a surprise visit.

[catscardigan]

8/25 ✅✌🏻

My poor fingers! Osteo is going to love me next visit 😂

Always be crediting artist ledge @winchester-reload for giving me permission to use their work for this piece.

[maddie0101]

𖤐 playing with fire (dean x fem!reader)

𖤐 summary: a house party, a few too many drinks, and a skirt that’s driving dean out of his mind. what starts as a harmless game of truth or dare quickly turns into something else, something that’s been building between him and the reader for way too long. one reckless decision later, and there’s no going back.

𖤐 warnings: smut (mdni), truth or dare, college!au, porn w plot, best friends to lovers, high sexual tension, teasing, reader's skirt almost sends dean into a coma, dirty talk, cussing, hair pulling, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, dean is a freak! (we love it though), p in v, mirror sex, skirt stays on!, lots more but I can't list everything off lmfao.

𖤐 word count: 7.5k (don’t ask me how I did this tbh. my fingers just kept moving)

𖤐 note: well…this was supposed to be maybe 2-3k words max, but I’ve done it again and I can’t help myself. i def couldn’t tag everything but enjoy! ❤︎

The house was packed with bodies moving together in the living room, red cups in hand, half-empty bottles of liquor cluttering every available surface. Someone had hooked up a speaker to blast a playlist that was way too bass-heavy, and the floor vibrated with every beat. The air smelled like cheap beer, sweat, and faint traces of perfume—an unmistakable blend of house party chaos.

Dean wasn’t even sure why he had come.

Well. That wasn’t entirely true.

Sam had dragged him here. Well, technically, Jess had dragged Sam here, and in turn, Sam had forced Dean out of the apartment under the guise of “having fun for once.” That was bullshit. Dean could have fun anywhere—a bar, a diner, sitting on the couch with a beer in hand, but instead, here he was, dodging some drunk dude waving his cup around like a damn sprinkler while scanning the room for a familiar face.

Or more accurately, your face.

Dean exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He hadn’t seen you all day, which was a little weird since the two of you talked constantly. You were his best friend, had been for years, and yet, when you’d mentioned earlier that you were coming to this party, Dean had found himself oddly… uneasy. Not that he was worried or anything. You could handle yourself just fine. But the thought of you here, surrounded by drunk, handsy assholes, looking hot as hell—not that he was picturing that—yeah, it had been enough to convince him to tag along.

But he still hadn’t spotted you, though.

Instead, his eyes landed on Sam and Jess standing near the staircase, laughing at something between them. Dean made his way over, shoving past a couple making out against the wall.

“Dean,” Jess greeted, lifting her drink in acknowledgment. “Took you long enough to show up.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Traffic.”

Sam snorted. “Traffic? Dean, you live ten minutes away.”

“Shut up.”

Jess grinned and leaned into Sam’s side. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”

Dean froze. “What?”

“You know,” she said, tilting her head slightly, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Her.”

Dean scowled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “You are so obvious.”

Before Dean could argue, Jess nodded toward the kitchen. “She’s in there, last I saw. Taking shots.”

Dean’s stomach did something weird, something he would not acknowledge. Instead, he shrugged and muttered a casual, “Cool,” before turning in that direction. And then—

Oh. Oh, fuck.

There you were. Standing by the counter, tilting your head back as you downed a shot of something dark, your lips wrapping around the rim of the glass before you placed it back on the counter. Your tongue flicked out briefly, licking away any stray drops.

Dean’s brain completely short-circuited. He barely even registered the fact that he had stopped in his tracks, mouth slightly parted. Because—holy hell.

That skirt. That damn skirt.

It wasn’t like you never wore stuff like this. But this? This was different. The way it clung to your hips, stopping so high up your thighs—Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The black top you wore didn’t help either, hugging your curves just right, exposing just enough skin to make his head spin.

Dean wasn’t sure what the alcohol content of whatever you were drinking was, but he was pretty sure he needed one now. Badly.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he shifted uncomfortably as a very inconvenient problem began to arise in his jeans. Shit. This was not the time to be getting a goddamn boner.

Dean clenched his jaw, inhaling through his nose.

Pull it together, Winchester. You are her best friend. You are—

And then you turned.

Like you felt him staring. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, everything else—the music, the crowd, the heat of the room—just faded into the background. A slow smile curled at the corner of your lips, and that was when Dean knew he was really screwed.

You looked good. And not just in the casual oh yeah, she looks nice kind of way. No, this was dangerous. This was the kind of good that made his stomach twist, that made his heart slam against his ribs, that sent heat rushing to places he did not want to deal with right now.

And then, as if you hadn’t just ruined his entire ability to function, you grabbed another shot from the counter, tilting your head slightly. “Want one?”

Dean swallowed, forcing his brain to restart. He took a slow step forward, desperate to think of something normal to say. Except, the closer he got, the worse you got. Because now he could smell you, some sweet, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something else. And now he could see just how smooth your legs looked in that goddamn skirt. And now—

Well now you were struggling, too.

Because Dean Winchester in a fitted black T-shirt, dark jeans, and those stupidly broad shoulders? Yeah. Not fair. Your fingers tightened around the shot glass. The way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his arms was practically sinful. The way the dim lighting highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw was even worse. He looked good, in that effortlessly rugged kind of way, and the alcohol coursing through your veins was not helping you pretend otherwise.

You blinked up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “You okay there, Winchester?”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Liar.

You raised a brow, smirking slightly. “You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Dean let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Just—” He wet his lips. “You, uh. You look nice.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You knew you looked good tonight—you had dressed with a little extra effort, even though you’d never admit why—but hearing Dean say it? Yeah. That did something.

You tilted your head, amused. “Nice?”

Dean ran a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before clearing his throat.

“Fine. Hot,” he admitted, voice lower now.

Your breath caught. The tension stretched thick between you. You should’ve said something. Something witty, something teasing, something to lighten whatever this was.

But then Dean reached out, grabbing the shot from your hand. His fingers brushed against yours, and that tiny touch sent a sharp jolt up your spine.

You both inhaled and Dean knocked the shot back, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time and when he lowered the glass, he licked his lips.

You almost groaned. Fuck.

This was not going to end well.

You were still trying to get your head straight when Jess walked into the kitchen. “There you two are!” she grinned, her voice a little louder than usual, clearly a few drinks in. “We’re starting a game in the living room. Get your asses in there.”

Dean blinked like he’d just snapped out of a trance. “Uh… what kind of game?”

Jess smirked. “The fun kind. Come on.”

Before either of you could argue, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the living room. Dean trailed behind, his eyes flicking downward — yeah, that fucking skirt was still driving him insane.

The living room was packed, people sprawled across the couches and floor, drinks in hand. The bottle sitting in the middle of the coffee table made Dean’s stomach tighten.

“Spin the bottle?” He raised an eyebrow at Jess.

“Oh, no. We’re past that,” she grinned. “We’re playing Truth or Dare — but with a twist.”

Dean groaned under his breath. “Of course we are.”

“You scared, Winchester?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

Dean shot you a look. “Of you? Never.”

Which was a goddamn lie. He was terrified —because this whole night had been a dangerous game of self-control, and right now, he was hanging on by a thread.

You both ended up sitting on the floor, way too close, your bare knee kept brushing against Dean’s thigh, and every time it happened, it felt like someone had dropped a match on gasoline.

The game started off easy, dumb dares, embarrassing questions, lots of laughter. But when it was your turn, things shifted. Jess grinned like she was about to start shit. “Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You barely hesitated. “Dare.”

Jess’s smile widened. “I dare you to sit in Dean’s lap for the rest of the game.”

The room erupted in laughter and catcalls, and your stomach dropped.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered.

“You picked dare,” Jess said sweetly. “Better get moving.”

Dean leaned back, running a hand down his face like he was mentally preparing himself. When he lowered it, he shot you a crooked smile — cocky as hell, but you didn’t miss the flicker of nerves in his eyes. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I won’t bite.”

God help you. You swallowed hard, stood up, and crossed the small space. Every eye in the room was on you as you slowly settled into Dean’s lap, his hands instinctively landing on your waist.

It should’ve been fine. Should’ve been funny. But fuck.

Dean’s thighs were solid under you, his broad chest warm against your back. His hands, rough and steady flexed just slightly, like he was fighting the urge to squeeze. “Comfortable?” Dean muttered near your ear, his voice lower than usual.

“Yeah,” you said, but it came out breathy.

The game moved on, but you barely heard a word. Dean’s hand slid down your waist, innocent enough, but his thumb brushed the bare skin just above your skirt. You nearly jolted at the contact.

You twisted your fingers in your lap, trying to focus. But then Dean shifted, just a little, and Jesus Christ, you felt everything — the strength of his legs beneath you, the heat of his body against yours.

“You good?” Dean murmured low in your ear.

“Peachy,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he muttered back, his breath warm against your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, and Dean’s fingers flexed again — but this time, his grip lingering just a little longer.

“Alright, Dean,” someone called out, dragging both of you back into the moment. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

Dean smirked, but his fingers stayed on your waist, still toying with your skin. “Dare.”

“Let Y/N give you a hickey.”

The room howled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered, running a hand down his face.

“Don’t chicken out,” Jess taunted, wiggling her eyebrows.

You turned your head slightly to look at Dean, your face way too close to his. “We can just fake it,” you offered, voice soft enough for only him to hear. “Play it off.”

But Dean’s eyes locked onto yours and something flickered behind them, something darker. “Yeah,” he said, low and rough. “Or we can’t.”

Your breath hitched. He was serious.

“You sure?” you murmured.

Dean’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back up.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sure.”

The room had gotten quieter now, like people were actually waiting to see what would happen. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you turned in his lap, your legs sliding across his thighs, your chest brushing against his. Dean’s hand slid to your lower back, steadying you, his fingers splaying wide.

You leaned in, your lips brushing just below his jaw, and his breath hitched. You kissed his skin once, soft and slow before sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. His fingers dug into your waist, and you swore you felt his chest shudder against yours.

You were supposed to stop there, but you didnt. Something told you to kept going. Your mouth lingered, your lips just barely brushing over his skin again. His fingers trailed down your side, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip.

“You’re killing me,” Dean muttered, barely above a whisper.

“You started it,” you whispered back but you didn’t pull away and neither did he. The air felt thick and heavy. You could feel his pulse hammering under your lips, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second.

“Alright,” someone called, breaking the moment. “I think that counts.”

You slowly eased back, your face still way too close to his. Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes.

Yeah. You were fucked.

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, voice rough and strained. “That counts.”

The game moved on, but your body was still burning from the way Dean’s hands lingered on your waist, the feel of his breath against your skin. You hadn’t even fully processed what just happened when Jess turned toward Sam with a glint in her eye.

“Alright, babe,” she said sweetly. “Truth or dare?”

Sam chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice, so let’s just get this over with.”

Jess smirked. “Dare.”

The room erupted into laughter, and Sam groaned, shaking his head.

“I dare you to…” Jess tapped her chin, drawing out the suspense. “Take off your shirt and let me write something on your chest in Sharpie.”

Sam rolled his eyes but reached behind his head, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. The sight of Sam Winchester, half-naked in the middle of the living room, earned a few whistles and teasing remarks. Jess grinned as she grabbed a marker, uncapped it with her teeth, and scribbled 'Property of Jess' across his chest.

Dean snorted. “Jesus, Sammy, you gonna let her brand you like that?”

Sam shot him a dry look. “Like you have room to talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered just slightly—probably because his hands were still gripping your waist, and he hadn’t let go since you sat down. But the tension between you and Dean was a wildfire, growing hotter with every second. His hands still rested on your waist, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of your top. You were hyper-aware of every shift of his body beneath you, every breath he took, the way his thighs felt firm under you.

Sam and Jess had just finished their dare, leaving everyone laughing while Sam scowled, still sporting the ridiculous drawing Jess had sketched onto his bare chest.

The game carried on, but you barely heard a word of it.

Someone dared Mike to shotgun a beer, and the room erupted with cheers when he spilled half of it down his shirt. Someone else was dared to prank-call their ex. Everyone was laughing, talking too loud, caught up in their own chaos.

But you? You couldn’t focus on any of it—because Dean was still beneath you, solid and warm and way too much. His hands rested loosely on your waist, fingers occasionally flexing like he was trying to ground himself. He hadn’t said much since you’d settled on his lap, but you could feel him—every breath, every subtle shift. And every time you moved even slightly, his grip would tighten.

You were trying so damn hard to act normal, to focus on literally anything other than the heat radiating off his body or the way his chest felt beneath your hands. But then you shifted, just a tiny adjustment to get more comfortable—and that’s when you felt it.

Oh… shit. You went still. Heat rushed straight to your face as your brain struggled to catch up with what your body already knew. Dean was hard. Very hard.

His fingers flexed again, harder this time, like he knew exactly what you’d just realized. Your pulse hammered in your ears. For a second, you considered pretending you didn’t notice—just staying perfectly still and riding this out. But then Dean shifted beneath you, a quiet, strangled breath slipping out of him and something inside you twisted.

Fuck it.

You moved. Slowly and deliberately you shifted in his lap, rolling your hips just enough to feel the hard press of him against you. Dean’s fingers dug into your waist and his breath hitched, sharp and rough right against your ear. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your stomach.

Everyone else in the room was still talking, still laughing—completely oblivious to the way Dean’s fingers were now gripping your waist like a lifeline, or the way your thighs clenched tighter.

And then you did it again, slow, teasing, shifting just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

His mouth dropped to your ear, his voice a low, strained whisper that shot straight down your spine “You’re fucking killing me.”

A shiver bolted through your body—sharp and electric, leaving your breath shaky and your heart racing. You didn’t dare look at him. If you turned your head, if you caught even a glimpse of his face, his flushed cheeks, his darkened green eyes, you knew you’d lose whatever thin grip you had on your self-control.

But his breath stayed hot against your ear, and his hands—fuck, his hands—were sliding down to your hips now, gripping you just a little tighter. “You wanna keep playing that game?” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “Because I promise you, sweetheart…” His fingers flexed, teasing at the curve of your hips. “I can play too.”

Your stomach flipped. Oh fuck.

The air between you was thick, almost too thick. You could barely breathe past it, past the heat curling low in your stomach, past the way Dean’s voice sent another sharp, aching shiver down your spine. His hands on your hips were heavy, warm, possessive, like he was seconds from losing whatever thread of control he was clinging to.

And fuck, you wanted that.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your throat. You should stop. You should...

But instead, you shifted again, just barely. Just enough to feel him twitch beneath you. And Dean exhaled through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening against your hips as his head dropped forward, forehead brushing your shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N,” he rasped.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. The way he said your name, low and wrecked made something hot coil tighter in your stomach. You were still frozen in place, thighs clenched, caught in the unbearable tension pulling both of you closer.

Then his fingers flexed, and his thumbs traced slow, firm circles against your hips. A barely-there touch, but it sent a bolt of heat straight through you.

Fuck. Fuck. Your breath stuttered.

And Dean—the asshole, he noticed. Because suddenly, his lips were right there, brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice a low, dark whisper.“Tell me to stop.”

Your stomach flipped.

The teasing tone from earlier was gone. Now, he just sounded wrecked. If you told him to stop, he would. But you didn’t want him to and fuck, he knew it.

You turned your head, just barely, finally meeting his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tight, his breath uneven.

Say something, your brain screamed. Say literally anything. But before you could, someone shouted—

“Alright, next dare!”

The world rushed back in all at once. Dean tensed beneath you, eyes snapping toward the others. Your head whipped around just in time to see Jess grinning, pointing at some poor guy across the circle.

The spell shattered but Dean’s hands were still on your hips and the heat curling between your legs? Still there.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to regulate your breathing, as you tried to not focus on the fact that Dean Winchester had just whispered in your ear like he was about to ruin you right in front of everyone.

And as the game dragged on, voices rising and falling, bursts of laughter breaking through the low thrum of music, it all felt distant, muffled like you were underwater. None of it mattered. Not when you were still perched in Dean’s lap, still feeling the weight of his hands resting heavy on your hips.

You knew you should move. You should get up, put some space between you, cool down before you did something reckless. But every time you shifted even a little, you could feel him, hard and pressed against your thigh and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

At one point, you dared to steal a glance at him, only to find him already watching you. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide, and when your gaze met his, he looked away fast. But not before you caught it, that barely restrained tension, the kind that felt like a live wire stretched too tight.

Yeah, you weren’t the only one losing control.

“Alright, I think that’s it for me,” Jess announced with an exaggerated yawn. She stretched her arms over her head, clearly playing up the exhaustion. “I’m heading to home before this gets even messier.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I think we’ve done enough damage for one night.”

Sam and Jess stood, gathering their jackets and drinks, muttering half-hearted goodnights to others. The noise dipped just enough for you to hear Dean let out a slow, steady breath, like he’d been holding it in all night.

You moved to stand, but Dean’s fingers flexed against your waist again, not quite holding you there, but not exactly letting you go either.

When you finally pushed yourself to your feet, your legs wobbled. The warmth of the alcohol was settling heavy in your limbs now, leaving you unsteady.

“You good?” Jess asked as she appeared at your side.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just… need some water or something.”

Jess’s gaze flicked to Dean — still sprawled on the ground, his head tilted back, fingers gripping his knees like he was barely keeping himself together.

“You sure that’s all you need?” she asked, her voice dipped knowingly.

Heat prickled up your neck. “I’m fine,” you said too quickly. But you weren’t. The tension was still coiled tight inside you, winding hot and restless beneath your skin. You could still feel Dean’s touch like he’d burned it into you. And no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, it wouldn’t let go.

“Alright,” Jess said slowly, clearly unconvinced. “I'll see you tomorrow, love you.”

"Love you too." You gave her a smile and turned toward the kitchen, desperate for space, for something cold. But you didn’t get far because a warm hand curled around your wrist.

“C’mere.” Dean’s voice was low and rough.

Before you could respond, he stood towering over you, his fingers firm but careful as he tugged you away from the lingering party noise.

“Dean,” you muttered, voice tight. “What are you—”

But he didn’t answer. He just kept walking, guiding you down the dim hallway, past the closed doors and dark corners until his hand reached for a doorknob.

The bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the sounds of music and voices.

“Dean,” you started again, your back barely pressed to the door before his hands grabbed your waist, fingers digging in, and he pushed you back against the door — not hard, not rough, but enough to steal your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, dropping his forehead against yours. His breath was warm, whiskey-sweet, ghosting over your lips. “I can’t— I can’t fucking think right now.” His thumbs swept under the hem of your shirt, dragging slow, burning circles against your skin. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he was barely keeping himself from snapping.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he rasped. “And if you keep looking at me like that…” He swallowed hard, his mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “I’m not gonna be able to stop myself.”

Your heart pounded so hard it shook your ribs.You didn't think. You only grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric tight and yanked him in.

The kiss hit like a spark hot and fast and desperate. His mouth crashed against yours, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. His hands slid higher beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide against your bare skin.

You gasped into his mouth as his hands roamed upward tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs and Dean groaned, low and wrecked, like you were killing him all over again. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered against your lips, voice gravelly and broken.

“Good,” you whispered back.

His mouth dragged lower, down your jaw, your neck, his stubble scraping your skin, leaving a hot, tingling path in its wake.

“Dean,” you breathed, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” His lips were at your collarbone now, hot and wet and lingering.

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” His lips crashed back into yours with a hunger that sent your head spinning. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, fingers digging in like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like this was something he’d been holding back for far too long and now that he’d started, there was no way in hell he could stop. Dean's thigh slid between yours, and you gasped into his mouth at the pressure.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, his lips trailing down your neck again, his stubble dragging rough and perfect against your skin. He nipped at your pulse point, just enough to make you gasp again, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked. His mouth brushed against your collarbone, hot and lingering. “No fucking clue what you do to me.”

“I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you teased, but your voice broke when his teeth grazed your skin.

“Yeah?” His breath fanned over the damp spot on your neck before his mouth found yours again — deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to savor it. His hands trailed down your sides, warm palms sliding under your shirt, fingers flexing against your ribs. His thumbs brushed just beneath your bra, teasing, testing.

“Dean,” you gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch.

He groaned, deep and rough, like he was barely holding himself together and grabbed your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The shift pressed you even harder against him, and you felt him, solid and straining beneath his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re fucking killing me.”

His hips rolled, slow, deliberate, grinding into you just enough to leave you breathless. You gasped, your fingers curling tighter in his shirt, and you couldn’t help it as you rocked your hips against him, just a little, just enough to pull a ragged groan from his throat.

“Don’t,” Dean warned, his voice dark and rough. His forehead dropped to yours, his breathing uneven. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

But you wanted to finish it. You’d wanted this for so long — every stolen glance, every almost-touch building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. So you did it again, rolling your hips against his, slower this time, teasing him the way he’d been teasing you all night.

And Dean swore under his breath, fingers digging hard into your thigh. “You’re playing with fire,” he growled, but his voice was strained, almost desperate.

“Maybe I wanna get burned,” you shot back, dragging your teeth along his bottom lip.

That was it, that was what broke him. Dean grabbed your other thigh and lifted you fully off the floor, pinning you against the door like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, and his mouth crashed into yours again, harder--hungrier. His hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, and you swore you saw stars.

“You like that?” he muttered, his lips barely leaving yours.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

His teeth grazed your jaw as he moved to your ear. “Good,” he rasped. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Dean’s mouth crashed back onto yours, his kiss hot and desperate like he couldn’t get close enough, like he needed you more than his next breath. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you against the door, his body pressing firm and solid between your legs. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips had you biting back a gasp, heat curling low in your stomach.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against your lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’ve been driving me insane all goddamn night.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, your voice breathless. Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. “You’re lucky I didn’t lose it the second I saw you in that shirt.”

Dean chuckled, low and rough, nipping at your bottom lip. “Yeah?” His voice dipped, gravelly and dark. “You like this shirt?”

“I like what’s under it,” you corrected, sliding your hands down his chest, tracing the firm lines of muscle beneath the fabric. Dean groaned again, the sound low and wrecked, and suddenly you were being lifted higher. Your back hit the door harder this time, and Dean’s mouth was on your throat, hot, open-mouthed kisses dragging down your skin like he wanted to leave a mark.

“Dean…” you gasped, arching into him. His name left your lips like a plea, like a prayer. Your head tipped back against the door as his mouth dragged lower, his stubble burning deliciously against your skin. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, his fingers pressing into the bare skin of your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your collarbone. “This little skirt — you know what you were doing when you put this on, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, your breath hitching when his fingers flexed again.

Dean let out a low laugh, dark and rough, before his mouth claimed yours once more. His kiss was hot and heady, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you lightheaded. His fingers dug deeper into your hips, rocking you against him, and heat bloomed low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire. “Shit,” Dean groaned. “You feel so fucking good.” His hips rolled again, harder this time, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that slipped from your lips.

“Yeah?” he muttered, his mouth brushing your ear now. “That good, sweetheart?” His voice was low and smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he knew you were just as wrecked as he was.

“Shut up,” you shot back, but your voice broke on the words when he did it again, another slow, hard grind that had you clenching your thighs tighter around him.

“Make me,” Dean growled, his teeth catching your earlobe. Your head tipped back against the door, your breath coming fast and shallow. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but Dean — his hands, his mouth, the way he felt against you. The party outside had faded into nothing, the distant sound of voices and music nothing more than a dull hum.

Dean’s body was still pressed flush against yours, his hands gripping your thighs like he couldn’t bear to let go. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, like you’d just run halfway across town.

Then, without warning, Dean’s hands flexed, his grip tightening as he adjusted his hold on you “C’mere,” he muttered, voice rough and strained.

Before you could react, he pushed off the door, lifting you with him like you weighed nothing. Your arms tightened around his neck as he carried you across the room.

The cool marble of the bathroom counter kissed the backs of your thighs as Dean set you down, his body still caging you in. His hands slid from your legs to your waist, fingers flexing like he couldn’t stop touching you. His gaze dragged over you, his eyes flicking down to where your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the hem dangerously high now.

“That fucking skirt,” Dean muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked at him, still trying to catch your breath. “What about it?”

Dean huffed a dark, breathless laugh. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, skimming featherlight along your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

“You know what about it,” he rasped. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind since the second I saw you in this thing.” His thumb dragged higher, tracing a lazy circle on your inner thigh. “Spent all night trying to pretend I wasn’t staring.” His mouth tilted into a smirk, dark and lazy, as his hand drifted higher.

“Figured if I kept my distance, I wouldn’t end up…” He trailed off, eyes flicking up to yours. “Wouldn’t end up like this.”

Your breath caught. “And now?”

Dean grinned, slow and wicked. “Now?” His fingers slid higher, knuckles grazing the softest part of your thigh. “Now I’m not pretending anymore.”

He dipped his head, and his lips pressed to your skin warm, soft kisses that started just above your knee. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

“Dean…” His name left you on a breathless exhale, but he didn’t stop. His lips moved higher, brushing featherlight over your skin. His stubble scraped just enough to make you squirm, your thighs instinctively starting to shift closer together.

Dean’s hand shot out, fingers curling around your thigh to hold you open. “Ah-ah,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I’ve been thinking about this all night…” His lips ghosted higher, just barely brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “…You’re not getting out of it now.”

You let out an involuntary gasp as his open mouth kisses started to trail lower and lower down your soft thighs. You should’ve known better. The second your gaze dipped down to him, Dean’s eyes snapped to yours like a damn magnet, locking you in place. He didn’t just look at you while he presses kisses closer and closer to your heat-- he held you there, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind and wasn’t about to let you escape it.

And when his knees hit the cold tile beneath him, Dean didn’t break eye contact-- not right away. He held your gaze, his eyes dark and heavy, like he was drinking in every shaky breath, every tremor rolling through you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, strong and sure, as if he was grounding himself or maybe holding himself back.

Then, slowly his eyes dragged downward, tracing the curve of your body until his gaze landed between your legs. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling a little faster, and when his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, your stomach twisted into a knot so tight you thought you might snap.

You were exposed, open and vulnerable but the way Dean looked at you? Like you were something he was about to devour? It set your skin on fire.

“Baby,” he rasped, his voice low and rough. The word left his lips in a breathless exhale, thick with want. His hands slid around your hips, fingers curling into your skin like he couldn’t bear not to touch you. His thumbs found the hem of your skirt, teasing along the edge, slow, torturous drags that left goosebumps in their wake. He traced lazy circles there, fingertips brushing just beneath the fabric.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His voice dropped even lower, the words barely more than a growl, like he was fighting to keep himself in check and was losing.

The sight of your wet cunt, soaking your red lace panties almost sent him over the edge right then and there. "So wet f'me already." A low, guttural groan rumbled from Dean’s chest as his hands slid up your thighs slowly, his calloused fingers dragging over your skin like he was memorizing every inch.

His touch lingered, teasing, before his fingers finally curled around the delicate lace at your hips. With one firm tug, he dragged your panties down your legs, his knuckles grazing your skin the entire way down.

"Dean, I-" you didn't even get to beg him for it because Dean already planted his mouth onto your pussy. A loan moan ripped through your throat as Dean started to swirl his tounge, hitting every spot that made you squirm above him. Large and warm hands quickly pressed down on your thighs to hold you in place as Dean groans at the taste of you. "S'even better than I imagined."

His piercing green eyes, dark and filled with lust locked back onto yours for a second, watching you writhe as his tounge circling around your clit. You panted and started to whimper Dean's name, feeling that coil within your stomach tighten.

The feeling of Dean's stubble against your heat, along with the wonders he's doing to you quickly sends you over the edge. You thread your fingers through Dean's hair, pulling him closer to you as he rides you through your high. Nothing but your moans and wet slurping noises fill the air as you cum so hard your vision goes blurry. His name slips past your lips like a prayer, repeating over and over again as your body starts to shake.

But Dean isn't nowhere near done with you because as soon as your hearing comes back he growls "Not done" and pushes your thighs back open, wider for him and continues to swirl his tounge around your clit and suck.

"Dean-- oh my god." You barely manage to let the words to fall from your lips as whimpers and moans escape from your throat.

"Taste so fuckin' good sweetheart." Dean breathes between licks before inserting two fingers into your slick folds. The sensation makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as Dean's mouth and fingers work together, ultimately sending you into another world. Dean's name falls from your lips over and over again as he works you through it, ignoring your pleas.

"Dean--S'too much." You squirm above him, "Fuck"

Dean doesn't answer, only continuing to work you through your earth shattering orgasm. Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you've never felt before. And before you know it--your body trembles, shaking violently as you did something you've never done before. You were squirting. And Dean lets out something between a groan and a moan at you coming undone for him. The pleasure surging through your body was something you'd never felt before, completely different from other orgasms.

"God you're so hot." Dean finally spoke as he broke away from your cunt and almost came at the sight of you so wrecked. "C'mere." He barely gave you enough time before gripping your waist and tugging you off the counter. Your legs wobbled underneath you as you tried to gain control of your breathing again.

"You're gonna watch me fuck you." Dean growled before pushing your lower back so you bent a little. A sharp gasp escaped your throat as Dean kicked one of your feet, spreading your legs. "The skirt stays on." Dean said before fumbling with his belt.

Your mind reeled, you felt absolutely weightless as the buzz from the alcohol, earth shattering orgasms, and just the thought of Dean's cock inside of you danced around your mind. The quiet clink of Dean’s belt unfastening filled the air behind you, the sound sharp and deliberate. Your breath hitched, and instinctively, your eyes flicked up to the mirror in front of you.

You couldn't believe this was finally happening.

The feeling of Dean's tip against your folds quickly pulled you out of your throughts as your eyes met his darkened green. His gaze was almost predatory as he began teasing you, loving the way you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

"Tell me you want this baby, let me hear your pretty little voice."

"Want this..." you barely managed to get out, "quit teasing me, De."

And that was all it took for Dean to slip his cock inside of your insanely wet cunt. You didn't even get a chance to catch your breath before he started moving, snapping his hips. You moaned as your nails dug into the counter and his name slipped from your lips.

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Dean groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing. His breathing becomes just as ragged as yours as he slams in and out of you. Moans and the sound of skin slapping fills the thick air around you as your head goes limp, not being able to keep it up from the insane pleasures wracking through your body.

Dean's hand quickly grabs onto your hair and tugs, causing your head to snap back and your eyes to go wide. "Want you looking at what I'm doing to you baby." Dean grunts in between his hips snapping, "watch me fuck you till you see stars."

You moan loudly as your eyes lock onto Dean's in the mirror. The way his mouth is slightly agape and the way his eyebrows are creased as he fucks you from behind. All of it mixed with the pleasure builds rapidly, the coil in your tummy tightening as you clench around him.

"Dean I can't take it anymore--" you whine, "I'm gonna--"

"This pussy was made f'me." Dean growls, "Cum for me sweetheart."

Your vision quickly blurs and your eyes roll back into your skull as you moan, not caring that someone might hear from the other side of the door. The only thing that matters right now is Deann pounding into you, riding you through your third orgasm.

Just the sight of you coming unglued for the third time sends Dean over the edge. His hips snapping and rolling sloppily as he paints your walls white. He groans as he cums and lets his sweaty forehead fall onto your shoulder.

Your breathing gradually steadied, each inhale a little less shaky than the last. With effort, you dragged your gaze back to the mirror in front of you. Your body still trembled, the aftermath of everything that had just unfolded leaving your limbs weak and your skin flushed. A warm blush crept up your cheeks as Dean slowly lifted his head, his eyes finding yours in the reflection.

His gaze changed. Before, his eyes were dark and intense, burning with pure, unfiltered want. But now? Now there was something else in them, something softer, deeper. His eyes were heavy-lidded, almost dazed, like he couldn’t pull himself out of whatever spell you’d put him under.

And yeah, you knew he wasn’t drunk, but the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing in the room that mattered? It was enough to make your breath catch. It wasn’t just lust anymore, it was something more, something raw and real and terrifying.

It was the way someone looks at you when they’re completely fucking gone for you-- when they’re in love and can’t hide it even if they wanted to.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice was low, rough like the words had been clawing at his throat, desperate to get out. Your breath hitched, heart stuttering in your chest. For a second, you thought maybe you’d imagined it, maybe the haze of everything that had just happened was messing with your head. But then he moved.

Dean slowly slid out of you, his hands still firm on your waist. You barely had time to catch your breath before he gripped your hips and turned you around to face him.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” His eyes locked on yours with no hesitation, no doubt, just raw, honest truth. His face was still flushed, hair a mess, lips pink and kiss-swollen, but none of that mattered.

Because his gaze… fuck, his gaze had you pinned in place.

Like he’d just laid his heart out in front of you and was waiting to see if you’d crush it.

“I mean it,” he added, voice quieter now, like the words were something fragile. “I’ve been in love with you for… God, I don’t even know how long.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Dean…” you started, but your voice came out shaky, breathless.

“I know,” he cut in softly, like he was sure you were about to turn him down. “I know this is probably—”

“Shut up.” You didn’t let him finish, you just grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. His sharp inhale turned into a low groan against your mouth, his hands sliding back to your waist like he couldn’t stand to let you go.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. “I’ve always loved you.”

Dean let out this soft, broken laugh, one that shook a little, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yeah,” you breathed, smiling against his mouth.

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was pouring every ounce of love and want and relief into it. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you close like he was terrified you might slip away.

“You’re mine now,” Dean murmured against your lips, voice low and sure. “And I’m never letting you go.”

author’s note:

yeahhh, that was pure filth…hope you guys enjoyed! wrote this in public bc I’m a freak like that, LMFAOOO. lmk if you want more smut! :)

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

also, special thank you to @bejeweledinterludes for helping me develop this fic! luh you pookie 🫶🏼

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @imsiriuslyreal

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[pink-sparkly-witch]

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

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It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[apocalypseornaw]

Can't be Her

AU Dean angst filled drabble no one asked for (NOT MY GIF)

I've never written anything for AU Dean but I liked this idea when it popped into my head so it's told partially from his pov

Making it through the portal was shock then seeing doppelgangers of Sam and himself? That was a little unsettling.

Dean had just gotten settled in the library with the other Dean and Sam when he heard a voice that nearly made him drop the beer in his hand. "Dean?"

Sam cut his eyes at him wordlessly telling him he'd heard it too, that the recent trauma of their world collapsing and universe jumping hadn't made him lose his mind completely.

He felt like his air had been cut off when you came walking into the room. You were wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a dark red flannel. Even in clothing so damn simple you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on "Y/N?" He was on his feet without thinking but your eyes widened and you ducked closer to the other Dean who spoke up "Woah buddy. Slow down there"

He realized what he'd done and quickly felt his face flush with embarrassment "I am so sorry" he walked out the room, unsure where he was headed but he couldn't face you. He'd listened to his heart instead of his head. He knew you were gone or well his version of you. He'd held her as she died. It was of some consolation too see that this Dean hadn't made his mistakes, he'd kept you safe.

------------

Everyone was silent after AU Dean walked out. You looked up at Dean who still an arm protectively around you "What was that about?" AU Sam half raised his hand and when you looked at him he smiled in that so achingly familiar way. Guess your Winchesters and the AU Winchesters weren't so different after all.

"You look just like his Y/N" Dean looked from you to AU Sam "What happened to her?"

AU Sam took a deep breath "I don't know if the three of you ran across Eve in this universe?" You nodded so he continued "She caught Y/N..... we tried so damn hard to get to her in enough time... our Castiel was killed in battle so there was no one capable of saving her....she died in his arms"

Dean's arm tightened around you, no doubt remembering every close call you'd ever had "No wonder he acted like that seeing you. I would've too"

---------

After he was sure he could be around you Dean headed back to the library. You were sitting next to the other version of him with your head laid over on his shoulder. Both Sams had disappeared.

"Y/N, Dean I apologize for earlier" the other Dean spoke first "Your Sam explained man. It's ok" you smiled softly at him before standing up "Is it ok if I hug you?" He looked to your Dean who shrugged "She makes her own decisions man. I trust her"

At that answer he nodded "Of course" you slipped your arms around him and he pulled you into his chest. He closed your eyes at the feeling of you in his arms, you even used the same shampoo and perfume she had.

After a moment you pulled away and he let you. You looked over at your Dean then back at him "I know I'm not her but if she loved you like I love him, she didn't blame you and she'd be happy to know you were still alive and still fighting" "Thank you Y/N" He replied with a small smile. You nodded "Of course"

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (6)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (5)

“Mommy! Mommy!” Your son is out of breath when he runs into your living room. Look what I found!”

He lifts his arms to show you what he’s holding in his hands. Your eyes widen at the sight of the biggest toad you ever saw.

“Oh my God!” You scream, and backpaddle. Michael Joseph proudly grins at you. He tells you he’s going to name him Toadie Mc Toad. “You won’t keep that thing!”

“I like him,” he pouts. “He’s cute. Please let me keep him.” Your son sniffles now. “Please! Please! I’ll take good care of him and feed my new friend daily.”

You sigh. “Michael, we don’t have a place for Toadie to live. The little toad needs more than food. We want him to be happy.”

“But…mommy,” your argument gets interrupted when someone harshly knocks at your door. You hear a commotion and someone muttering incoherent words.

“This is not over,” you point at the toad in your son’s hands. “Don’t drop the poor thing. We don’t need Toadie to walk around the house to scare me.”

“He won’t do such a thing—” Your son pouts and whines. The knocking gets louder, distracting you long enough for your son to kiss the toad.

“Michael! Stop kissing the toad,” you grumble while walking out of the living room. “Coming!” You call for whoever is hammering against your door. “Just a minute.”

Your son follows you hot on your heels. He won’t stop pleading. Michael wants to keep the toad and he’ll do anything to keep the poor creature.

“Wait here, Michael. We will talk about the toad in a minute. Let me answer the door first.”

You look at your son, giving him a stern look as he sits down on the floor to talk to the toad he found in the small garden behind your house.

“Just a minute,” you run your hand over his head. “I’ll be right there, and we can talk about the toad.

Your son nods and turns his attention back toward the toad. You sigh and walk toward the front door. It’s not the best day for an unexpected visitor.

“Hello, what can I do—” your voice fails seeing Dean and his brother stand in front of your door. Sam gives you an apologetic smile and murmurs your name while his brother is less apologetic.

“Hi,” Sam says before Dean can start messing things up. “I know this is sudden, and you didn’t expect us, but Dean couldn’t wait any longer."

“What do you want here, Dean?” You hiss his name. “The deal is sealed. You have no reason to come here and invade my privacy and home!”

“I didn’t invade your home,” Dean bites back. “If you would've told me that I got a kid this reunion could’ve been much more harmonic.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Winchester.” You huff. “Now get off my lawn.”

“I won’t leave,” he takes one step closer to you. “I got a kid, and I want to get to know him! You’ve got no right to keep my child from me.”

“He’s my son,” you snap at Dean. “I was the one watching his first steps. I was the one raising him without any help. You’ve got no damn right to come here and demand to see my son.”

“Our son,” Dean raises his voice. “You can’t keep my son away from me?” He sniffs. “Not after I just found out that I’m a father.”

“You’re not a father,” you hiss. “A father would've never left the woman he asked to marry him for his ex or let his mother walk all over me. You made your decision that night, and I made mine on my way to London. Now get out of my sight.”

Sam tries to calm you both. “Y/N, how about you let us in, and we don’t discuss this out here, for everyone to hear.”

“I won’t let you brother inside my home where my son is,” you glare at Sam. He means well, you know that, but you cannot risk letting Dean inside your home. “You will stay out of my house, Winchester!”

“Winchester?” Your son shoves you out of his way to look at Sam and Dean. “You must be DEAN!” He squeals and grins. Your son holds up the toad, telling them to have a look at his new friend. “I found him in the garden!”

“Uh-that’s very cool bud,” Sam says. He crouches down to look at the toad. “I’m not Dean, but his brother Sam.”

Michael jerks his head toward Dean to look your ex-fiancé up and down.

“You look much cooler, Mr. Dean. I like your hair better and you’ve got that cool car.” Your son hums while staring at the car in Dean’s hands for a moment. “Cool.” He pushes the toad in Sam’s hands, ignoring that the tall man scrunches up his nose.

“What?” Sam looks at the toad in his hands. “What do I do with the toad?”

You whimper when your son grabs Dean’s hand. He grins and tells Dean to follow him inside. “I got a cool Impala too, Mr. Dean. I’m going to show it to you.”

“Dean, no,” you can only step aside because your son drags Dean toward the door. He brushes past you, not even sparing you a glance while talking about his favorite car.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam gets back up, still the toad in his hands. “I told him to call or give you the chance to explain things to him before barging into your home. Dean always was a little…”

“Annoying, impulsive, unreliable,” you huff, and cross your arms over your chest. You take several deep breaths and try to calm down to not yell in front of your son. “I can’t believe he just came here, demanding to see my son after he let me down.”

“Y/N, it’s a little more complicated. Maybe we can go inside too,” Sam offers a weak smile. “Dean was an idiot back then, but it wasn’t his fault alone.”

“He comes here, blaming me for not telling him about my son! I gave him a choice and left a message. I wrote that it’s not only the two of us any longer. Did I have to spell it out for him?” You are beyond angry and yell at the wrong brother. “Dean is many things, but not dull.”

"Y/N, he's a man on a mission. He wants to get to know his son."

“He can’t come here and call himself father! Dean is not my son’s father!” You twirl around to storm inside your house. If you must, you’ll drag Dean out of your home.

“That escalated quickly,” Sam runs one hand down his face. He sighs deeply as he walks inside your home, silently closing the door. Sam only hopes you won’t fight in front of your son. “I guess it’s on me to help these two find a way to talk things out without killing each other...”

Part 7

Tags in reblog.

[lorenatural]

Wes Hæl- Angels, Devils and Man's-kin and Others- I'd will that yall me hear

It is as a walker of the Mark that I, by heart's will and against mind's best judgement, come now here to yall story-players. I before last summer's heat was amid many who watched the doings of two heaven's-kin, one long ago fallen, that serpent who in eden then was. Those who watched all seemed well to me to be kind and good-hearted, great of craft on song and spell and dream, of cloths worn and held, of paint and pencil, and what we held was good, and of love.

Two summers afore now, within this tale sorrow was brought by the Metatron- I know him well, the bastard - who just as ten years ere brought his same ill-council to that same angel, Serpent's-Friend, Serpent's-Heart-Holder, he who by Heaven is prized and would Heaven mend, Earth-Walker Beholden to None and Half-Hidden from all, a bright fool by any name. Then from this the Serpent again from his love was parted with strange tricks, and that angel Appolyon again walks earth, and even aside the story, by some strange chance, those same two singers, the Song-Twisters who words of other songs change- that same pair sang in this foul season that, ten years before it, sang in my own dark-eyed time, though too short it was, by that Metatron's hand. Funny how it is... truly all devils such as myself will return in ten years' time- know you that.

And yet near one year from when sorrow broke the spell within, far greater broke it from without. It is many times seen that those of mankind who speak as God are in soul and mind and behind locked doors a most true evil- and this summer past, all us who listened to one such man learned that the evil of such men strays even far from faith or from the churchdoor. In this and after I saw the great-minded and full-hearted people I once watched with turned wretched- wracked in grief, some their souls stained by staying with their now-evil stories, others, fast and first to break full-free, sank soon as low in tearing down those who stayed, hurling death-messages and denying their friends-turned-foes' place among mankind for their ill loyalty. And many more drifted at as many places between, unsure, myself among them. And again at this winters' depth these truths and this evil was made more known, and again to wreck we were. Now there are shreds of this great group I once moved among.

Now- to go back within the story- it is against my mind and a bit of my heart, truly, that I do this. But I remember when we sang of love.

It is us who do not deserve to shatter ourselves against some man's cruelty- know all yall that. That angel Serpent's-Friend- or perhaps the Serpent himself by his own friend's name- ten-and-some years before now gave me a favor that I may never repay in my long life- a life greater to me than my own was returned. As now, the Metatron had with that same ill-council Serpent's-Friend, and Appolyon, and an other angel turned to evil things in guise of Heaven's mending, and as now Heaven was against much grief dashed and wrecked.

Now, as then, I come to you as a Child of Cain, Walker of the Mark, That Demon Who At Water's Edge Would Dwell, Mere-Born, Knife-Ready, Flesh-Tooth-Stained, Earth-Hearted, Keeper of the Hearth in that Under-Earth-Hidden Cave-Hall of Monster-Slayers Past, Fatherless Road-Wanderer, God-Fighter, Theomacha, Elder of Two Together-Told, Mother of Many, Mother of That Most-Famous Cursed Giant Who God's Ire Holds. As payment for Serpent's-Friend's own gift to me I offer to guide yall well through the Mark, from your own evil-written story and to less-stained lands, as I myself fled my own death five winters ere.

I remind you that no part of Eden, nor the Serpent, nor the Fall, nor Revelations nor Metatron, were by that evil man written. These names and story-roads to all are open, and many other names for Heaven-kin and Hell-kin and all those around them as well are given freely to yall for using. And by my own self can you see that well into newer days things have been written that are all-by-chance well close to this Omens'-tale. Especially I would tell you of some stories of the Fair Folk, the Good People, aós Sidhe, however yall may call them. Many well-lettered men have written that at least some of these Good Folk come of angels who fell at Earth's earliest, but having not the evil for Hell yet not the good for Heaven, were instead bound to earth in some unhuman yet roughly man-shaped being, to live their hedonistic ever-dances.

If you can, with strength of will and names new and no threads remaining to bind you to that evil man's words, make yourselves free of him- then through the Mark I, gladly and with much hope in heart, invite you to join them or any other in the endless winding-places of story. Please- hear me- we all deserve better than this.