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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader

Konig saves you from a bomb threat when you get stuck at your Uni. Based on his bio - presumably, Konig was a part of the Austrian Special Forces before joining KorTac. He is also a bit of a dork and we have a bit of an obsessive episode.

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a cringefailure, Konig is overstepping his authority, hurt(not really)/comfort Warnings: Bomb threats, mentions of terrorism Word count: 2450

Someone called a bomb threat in your college.

Well, at least, this is what the automatic email is telling you. The email that was sent to you, about especially avoiding the library on the second floor because the anonymous(not for long, since they have a knack for exposing who the hell is calling those threats each time) caller said that there is a huge chance of the bomb being placed here.

You know, the same library that you were sitting in, right now, reading this exact email on your laptop. You thought no one was around because it wasn’t a busy day, just after the major finals, with most people staying on campus only if they failed first tests or just wanted to get extra credits for some extra curriculum. Even if you were staying here just because you wanted to work on campus’s newspaper – the library is a good place to scoop for some rumors about the dean of the uni being three raccoons in a trench coat, or the lunch staff posing as Polish mafia.

The thing is – it seemed like you were the last fucking person to receive the email. The thing is, there are only a few weeks left before summer break, and the campus already started to turn off major announcement equipment since no sports or other events are planned. Are you going to die? Probably, there is a huge chance of you dying, as you can feel directly in your bones – god, there are probably some terrorists or uni shooters or that weird Christian suprematist who are going hysterical at the mere sight of religion other than theirs. You are going to die, you are going to die, you are going to…

— Scheisse! There is a civilian!

You were never particularly religious, maybe only at the time of finals and work submissions – and in situations like this, where you are already mentally preparing yourself to get blown up with unfinished articles and forgotten hopes and dreams and everything and…

You were never particularly religious – so you have no idea why your pre-death auditory hallucinations suddenly included an angel’s voice with devil's timbre and some huge, tree-trunk-like hands wrapping around your waist, checking you for possible injuries or explosive device.

These hands are really huge – and muscular, you can see how tense they are even through your black uniform, and they are roaming over your body in a way that would make you scream bloody murder and file sexual harassment if it didn’t belong to an obvious angel. Angelm in special forces uniform, an angel with a really nice boyish voice and warm hands that are sliding to your thighs, groping and checking for every possible outcome – for weapons, probably, because you are literally the only person in the room that was deemed as a bomb threat, and if you were this guy, you’d also think that you were the culprit.

His fingers linger on your hips perhaps a bit too long – you can him patting you down like you were heading to a club – and then he lets you go reluctantly, not finding anything except for your phone which he also checked for possible timers. The interaction lasted…a minute or so, but you are already hot and bothered, getting off the strong hands holding you, even though he already let you go.

— Are you alright?

He must have noticed your worried face and international student badge – his English is a bit accented but nonetheless confident. You never thought that small traces of German in a speech can sound so fucking hot but, perhaps, you are just traumatized and high on adrenaline and weren't getting laid for too fucking long.

He wears a badge – something something long German words, huge design construction that made you think he must be pretty high-rank – knowledge that you only had because of the movies and games you were playing, trying not to get off the military kink too much. Something in the situation told you that you’d spend the whole evening searching for porn with guys dressed in all black today. Maybe, a touch of cargo.

— Y…yeah. Fuck, sorry. I’m fine, fine. Yeah.

You are rambling and he tilts his head to the side. This large, looming hand goes to your face – you wait for either a harsh slap to return you back to reality, or a passionate and deep kiss from your fantasies and dirty novels. He slowly traces his fingers on your face, getting up, in the hairline, searching for something – perhaps, a nasty head parasite that got you acting so weird around this random guy. Random guy who is just doing his job, securing that you’re safe, sound, and not going to explode in the next few minutes.

— No head injuries. Gut.

You want him to touch your face some more. You want him to check for mouth injuries, to evaluate the status of your lips. Maybe do some chemical tests with that gloss you were using today. Check the reaction with his tongue.

He twirls you in place and you almost want him to press you against the wall. Search you some more, maybe get his hands a bit deeper, pass the oh-so-modest pants that made you look like a little bitch boy – his hand goes to cup your waist again, checking for anything that might catch his interest. Nothing – and you were never this sad about Hot wearing a concealed weapon that might force him to pin you down or get you into a chokehold with those massive biceps of his.

— What were you doing here, ma’am?

Studying in Vienna, you never found an Austrian accent this sexy. Never knew that you might like being handled like this before – it’s not romantic, not even in the slightest, but you smile a bit shyly, a bit awkwardly, and look at him from under your lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. You are innocent – you weren’t doing anything, you were just trying to study and write in the last few weeks. Concentrated enough, so you never even noticed a fucking bomb threat. Didn’t hear soldiers running through the building, securing each room.

— I…study here?

You gulp loudly, taking a few steps away from the soldier. Allowing him to examine the room, deem it safe – the bomb threat called on your university was probably fake. Maybe a call from a paranoid individual, maybe someone with nothing better to do than pranking colleges. You seriously doubt anyone would try to blow up this place while almost none of the students are actually inside – especially the library during the low season. Even you almost decided to ditch the traditional writing atmosphere and just do something in the cafeteria.

— Oh.

His voice actually sounds…nice. Funny even, that small remark also makes him cough and look at you more seriously. He has a mask concealing his face, some weird hood or net on top of it – you try to see his eyes, but you can only occasionally catch glimpses of ice staring at you. Mysterious, you like it. Too mysterious, that little journalist club member inside of you is itching to get a look at his face better – you tilt your head to the side, contemplating just yanking it upwards and praying that he won’t kill you.

Although you wouldn’t mind being crushed in his hold.

— Let’s get you out of here, ja?

You don’t question him when he suddenly picks you up – when the world starts to spin and you are pressed against his chest, his hands are supporting you under your knees and back. Securing you in place, making sure you are nice and comfy in his hold. You don’t ask questions when he slightly adjusts your hold so he can touch more of your thighs – you think he is just getting you comfortable, and you appreciate just how thoughtful he is.

You don’t ask questions when he holds you almost like a bridal carry, even though you are certain you aren’t injured, and someone like him probably has more interesting things to do than saving poor college students who decided to ignore bomb threats.

His hands are warm, his chest is even warmer, and his muscles aren’t even slightly trembling. You don’t know what sort of training those guys are coming through, but it must work – his steps are light and decided even when he can’t press you firmly against him, vest standing in the way. You don’t know what to do with your hands and you don’t want to mess with the government property – you think there is a law against fidgeting with special forces soldiers on duty – so you just get them on your knees. Like a good girl. Polite girl. Girl who isn't drooling over the guy who is just doing his job.

— Thank you. For saving me.

You whisper it in his headset – you are worried about someone else also hearing you, but there is something intimate about tilting your head upwards and getting right into his face, your lips millimeters away from the edge of his mask. You don’t want to sound suggestive, so you sound weak instead. You don’t to sound ungrateful, so you sound pleading instead.

His hold on your thighs gets stronger. You lick your lips nervously, chuckling to ease the atmosphere a little bit.

Your leg brushes above his waist – and you swear that you can hear his breath hitching. It’s impossible, you think, he must be a tough and content little soldier, perfect to save damsels in distress just like you – but something in his posture, in the way his fingers twitch slightly at the edges of your body, makes you think otherwise. Maybe, you’re just dreaming. Maybe, you know nothing.

Someone slams into the room. Another man – shorter than the one who holds you, by a large margin, but none less intimidating. Burly, muscular, dressed up in full uniform which is expected – and with his face covered up by a similar veil or mask or whatever this is – which is unexpected. You thought that special forces would have something less eye-obscuring, but what do you know? You would be dead if the bomb threat was real.

— Other sectors secured. No bomb in sight. Commander.

He almost hisses, the similar accent in his voice makes your cheeks heat up even more. You feel weird, dirty even, thinking of those two large, intimidating men in such an intimate setting while they are just trying to save your life – but you try to silence that little annoying voice, to convince yourself that this is probably just adrenaline, ovulation and sudden urge to procreate before you would die.

You feel your entire body stir when the man takes a step closer, looking at you. You can’t see his face, not even the outline of it – but you feel the burning gaze on your scared expression and obediently folded hands.

— Gut. Other civillians? — 20 civilians in the building in total. University workers, some students. Already evacuated. — Any casualties? You hear a cruel chuckle from a shorter man. — If they were, you’d hear about it, sir. No, the sector is clear. — Gut. Dismissed – we’re finishing here. — What are you doing with the civi…

— Kruger, dismissed.

The man who holds you is surprisingly stern when he isn’t talking to you. He used a much softer, quieter tone when he was talking to you, observing if you were hurt or in danger – and he is much, much different now. A cold voice, serious tone, the image of the ruthless commander flying in your head – well, at least you were right about his patches meaning something important.

A shorter man leaves, and the door behind him swings open. To your surprise, the man who holds you – a mysterious stranger, you can’t even seem to find a name on his uniform – doesn’t let you go. His touches feel like you’re burning alive, he is igniting and brilliant and fucking perfect and…

He lets you down to the care of the local police department and some of the uni workers. His hand brushes over your face again – you think he was checking for the injuries but, then again, why would he touch your hair ever so gently only to move it out of your face to take a good look at your lips before letting you go? You’re imagining things, you probably must be – the man is just doing his job, he isn’t trying to fuck you in the nearest hallway even if you wanted him to.

— Sir. I…thank you, really. For the help.

— I didn’t do anything, Schatz. Someone must been playing a joke on everyone.

You are going to find the guy – or a girl, or someone else, you don’t discriminate, everyone is equally capable of calling on the false bomb threats – who informed the special forces about the bomb in the building, and then you are going to kiss them.

— What kind of joke is this?

— A dumb one.

He looks over to his unit – a group of tall, burly men, with weapons and uniforms and everything a girl could ask for – already packing in the vehicles to move out. You brace yourself to ask for his number – for his contact, anything, everything, maybe the favorite tree in the park under which you could meet again. You know that those guys aren’t supposed to reveal their identities, that he is probably out of town anyway, special forces aren’t usually called off to false threats, you know that your attempts are futile and yet, you lick your lips for added confidence and…

— Goodbye, Scahtzen. Stay safe, ja? Don’t want to save you from a real bomb one day.

— I…I…um, you mean you wouldn’t save me from a real bomb?

He was already halfway to the armored car before you could say anything. You aren’t nearly confident enough to yell across the whole fucking campus territory to get a number of this hot special forces guy, and something in his hunched shoulders, twitching fingers, and slightly less social and more abrasive manners tells you that he would hate the gesture as much as you would.

Just like this, your first even real-life military crush is driving away, leaving you bombless, hoeless, and, most certainly, more depressed than ever. Summer is going to be great, right?

*** — What do you mean calling a fucking bomb threat?!

Your friend wasn’t happy about the pick-up strategy you wanted to use.

*** — Of course, sir, let’s raid a fucking college dorm room.

Sergeant Sebastian Josed Krueger wasn’t happy about his commander’s newfound love for college girls.

Mostly because König refused to fucking share.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #cod x you #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #cod imagine #imagine #konig #sebastian krueger

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just-a-ghost00 · 6 months ago

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Who is your divine counterpart?

Please if you know the original artist who made these images, can you tell me so I can quote them. Thank you <3

Group 1

Celebrity look alikes - Mamamoo's Hwasa, BTS Suga, Joe Anoa'i aka Roman Reigns, Jonathan Good aka Dean Ambrose / Jon Moxley

Let me tell you group 1, the one thing all these people have in common : they are absolute dorks and I love them to death. To analyze this a bit further, you will notice that there are more masculine figures than feminine. Though Suga is pretty balanced in both energies. Hwasa as well can be pretty masculine in her own way. They also have quite long hair, especially the guys. All of them have rather dark hair and dark eyes. Even if Jon's hair can be a bit lighter and his eyes are somewhat blue, they tend to look dark as well. We have different cultural backgrounds being represented : Samoa for Joe, South Korea for Hwasa and Suga and Ohio for Jon. All of them are quite athletic and a little shy around strangers. However with the ones they love they go all out. So those could be traits of your person. Let's investigate further. Most of them are mutable signs (Suga Pisces, Roman Gemini, Dean Sagittarius).

Physical traits - Hierophant, Magician, King of pentacles

One thing that is striking about their appearance is how strong and trustworthy they look. They have a regal air to them that intimidates people. They appear as quite closed off upon first sight. They also look smart and very attractive. There's a lot of Venusian qualities to this person. They dress well, they smell good, they are naturally beautiful but they also take really good care of their body. They have a strong body structure. The feminines tend to be curvy. The masculines tend to have broad shoulders and defined arms. Physically, they give off very serious vibes. They may look uptight or have that so called RBF (though I don't like that term that much). All these cards together make me think that they look unapproachable and that they would hex the shit out of you if you ever cross them. Think of Minerva McGonagall.

Personality traits - The Explorer, The revolutionary, Get curious

Your counterpart is someone that is very open minded and curious. They have a thirst for knowledge and like to challenge themselves. They are incredibly passionate and bold, self confident, adventurous. They tend to follow their inner compass and morals even though it may get them in trouble. They are not afraid of being criticized or being alone. They are ambitious and they know the path to success can be a lonely road. They are a rebel at heart and a free spirit. They might not be as much into traditions as other people in their family or in their business field. This person likes to innovate and go into unknown territories. Differences do not scare them. They can get along with anyone as long as they have a heart and an open mind. They like to create, to find new ways to do things. They are a natural born leader. They can be stubborn, sometimes arrogant or hard to deal with. They have strong morals and tend to be set in their ways. When they have an idea in mind, they are unstoppable. They have a broad imagination, a knack for charming and talking their way out of situations. They can be a bit kinky. They are willing to shift their perspective in order to understand people better. They can be pretty understanding and adaptable.

Possible jobs / hobbies - Strength, Reclaim, White Numen, Underworld, King of pentacles, The Sage

Your counterpart could work in any job requiring strength, creativity, stability, patience and resourcefulness, a certain degree of competitive spirit. So think about fitness, professional level sports, being a member of a big company, being an artist, working freelance in any field. Looking at the tarot cards it does give me the feeling that this person is working alone most of the time. They have a lot of control over their career and the direction they want to go in. So if they work in a company, they would most definitely occupy an important position. This person likes to fight. But their fight seems to be more against their own demons. They enjoy going to the gym, taking care of their body, improving their health and spirituality. They like to learn especially if it can benefit their career in any way. They are the type to pick up a new skill because it would benefit a project and avoid implying other people. They take pride in doing things on their own. This person could be into martial arts /combat sports like boxing, wrestling, taekwondo, judo, karate and so on. They could be a teacher. If not, I get a feeling that they are often looked up to by their peers. This person could have two jobs : one they do publicly/during day and one that is more private / during night. They take interest in unconventional forms of creativity or occupations, things that may be seen as shady / dark by most people. It could be occult arts, horror movies, hardcore porn and stuff like that.

Letters and confirmation signs : A I O G B B K G E O P X W L H -> leo, boogie, pookie, bio(logy), geo(graphy), wale, Hola, Ali, babe, Babi, Kobe, whole, egg, Exo, box, boob, big, philo(sophy), Phil, Paolo, hope, gage, phobia, book, pale, Paige, page, pole, beg, bake, peak, beak, gig

Group 2

Celebrity look alikes - Liv Tyler as Arwen, Hwasa, Jessi and Kai from GazettE

Okay let's analyze what we got here. Many of these celebrities are of Asian descent. They are mostly feminine. We can note a common thread in the fact that all of them have rather long hair and very intense gaze. All of these celebrities are intense people that are not afraid to go after their dreams and to speak their mind. The feminines tend to have very full and beautiful lips. All of them have a very alluring aura. For those of you who might not know all of these celebrities, we have from left to right and top to bottom : Liv Tyler who played Arwen in LOTR, Mamamoo's Hwasa, Kpop solo artist Jessi and Kai, drummer of the Visual Kei band GazettE. Most of these celebrities are artists and they are fixed signs (Hwasa Leo, Jessi Aquarius, Kai Scorpio).

Physical traits - 3 of cups, Queen of cups, 9 of cups

This person is very feminine in their appearance, soft, flowy, welcoming. They appear as very nurturing. They have a motherlike presence to them that instantly makes people at ease. They may look aloof or dreamy. They are pretty cheerful and optimistic. So they probably are the kind to be smiling a lot. They have sparkles in their eyes and a very childlike look to them. So round cheeks, very bright, big and round eyes. They could be a bit petite. They are more on the curvier side. They could like to wear hats or head bands and stuff like that. Jewelry is also a key feature of their look. They tend to wear oversized cloathes or at least comfortable clothes. They like to feel good in their shoes so they would wear clothes that makes them feel the best first, even if it might shock people. Think about Hwasa and her "no bra scandal". In many ways this person could look like a doll to others. They appear as very kind and friendly. There is something about their appearance that is very pure and sweet. So they would prefer simple clothes over classy clothes, or maybe they like to dress like the younger generations. They basically go with the flow. They could have a very particular way of walking. One that makes them look like they could slither their way through things. They are very flexible and they have a lot of meat.

Personality traits - Get curious, destruction, trust

This person is really curious and open minded, they have a happy go lucky type energy but their mind can often times get the best of them. They may tend to compare themselves to others a lot or to overthink. They may struggle with mental health issues. They are a trust worthy peron and they are also faithful. They like to learn and be mentally stimulated, as it keeps their mind busy. This person can be very observant and smart. They have very strong transformative abilities. Though they know a lot of lows, they always find a way to come back stronger and make the best out of any challenge they are going through. They are incredibly resilient and strong minded. They are very opinionated.

Jobs and hobbies - Black Numen, The Observer, Strength, The Wildling, Lovers, Power

Your counterpart's job involves transmuting knowledge, resilience, communication and helping people find their truth. So this could be teaching, coaching, anything related to spirituality or psychology. This person is definitely into divination arts such as chiromancy, tarot, palm reading. They could be into martial arts and reading. Singing could also be something that they enjoy. That or flirting lmao They love to talk. Maybe they have a podcast or something. They are pretty creative so really it could be anything. They like to dig deep and investigate. So they might enjoy TV series about crimes or psychology, podcasts that are empowering. They may enjoy working out for some. But I have a feeling like for some, intimacy could be a way for this person to relax. They view bedroom activities as a hobby lmao

Letters and confirmation signs :

O D A B L Y V W M V G G Z Y C -> YMCA, yoga, Yoda, bald, Zac, May, vocal, wavy, God, gay, BL, Cody, Maggy, dog, doggy

Group 3

Celebrity look alikes - Stray Kids Seo Changbin, Jonathan Good aka Dean Ambrose, Mark Calaway aka The Undertaker, Kate Beckinsale as Anna Valerius

These people are super cheeky. They may be very intimidating (I mean we got The Undertaker here) but they are huge softies. All of them are rather masculine in their energy. All of them have hair that tends to get wavy. We are looking at people who have rather dark hair. Some of them have dark grey/green eyes. No matter the eye color they tend to have a fierce gaze and dress in darker colors. All of them are fit and quite tall. They have a strong body and a strong mindset. They tend to be lone wolves and have a hard time asking for help. They would do anything for the people they love. All of them are fire signs (Kate and Changbin are Leos, Jon is a Sagittarius and Mark is an Aries). All of them have strong morals and don't hesitate to speak their truth.

Physical traits - The Sun, 2 of swords, 4 of wands

They have freckles and their skin tends to be tanned. Their skin is glowy. They have a balanced body figure and are pretty agile. They look sturdy, strong, reliable. People feel at home next to them. So they can definitely have big arms that give the best cuddles, a very comfortable chest to lay your head on. They appear very outgoing and bright. They look like they shine. They are definitely attractive. Their beauty is one that is popular, conventional, a bit trendy. So in terms of fashion, this person would follow the trends of people their age or people of the same culture. Their fashion style can also be quite versatile. They look like they are husband/wife material. What is and isn't husband/wife material varies on people. But usually these terms are used for someone that looks like they would make you feel safe and loved, would take good care of you and match your expectations of a partner. So this person definitely appears as trustworthy.

Personality traits - Manifest, The Alchemist, Movement

Your counterpart is horny most of the time. They have a lot of drive and passion. They are a good manifestor and a bit of a trickster. They can turn anything to gold. They are very crafty and good with their hands. They are quite stubborn but also resilient. They are very adaptable and can handle difficult situations pretty well. They are not afraid of challenges and to try their hands on different things. They are very skilled and witty. They're also very smart and have a lot of healing abilities. Since they've been through a lot, they can spot negative patterns pretty well and find creative ways to counter them. They tend to be harsh on themselves. They have a lot of venom that they tend to repress. This person is likely to have anger issues. They can't stay still. Their mind is constantly working. They can anticipate a lot of things and see into the future. They can take a new idea and make it fit to their own style, sometimes making it ten times better than the original one. They have a very sexy personality. People tend to be drawn to their mind.

Jobs and hobbies - page of pentacles, surrender, knight of pentacles, reclaim, 3 of pentacles, the void

I definitely see this person sharing their knowledge with others and helping younger people reach their goals. They could also be attending college. Some of them may be involved in spiritual and religious practices. They could be spending a lot of time giving to their community, doing humanitarian work, going to Church or any place of cult. For some of you, your counterpart may have decided to change their career and gave up their position to go back to school. They could also be into anything that is related to the body, appearances, learning and sharing. So fitness, modeling, dancing. They could be into meditation or just spending time in nature, far from people to recharge their batteries. They could be into hunting, fishing, camping, gardening, farming. This person may be going through a spiritual awakening and leaving behind hold habits or patterns to live a healthier life. So if they were struggling with addictions or their body image, for instance, they've decided to heal that part of themself and work on it. They could also be a farmer for some of you.

Letters and confirmation signs :

Y G R H E C B P I F A R S L E -> Paris, Fabrice, chase, cars, bars, lace, years, sale, RBF, fly, air, rice, chief, gears, biceps, abs, selfie, selca, fears, far, celeb, Alice, clear, Claire

#pick a card #just-a-ghost #pac reading #spiritual pac #tarot reading #oracle cards

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carrie-tate · 6 months ago

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Sudden Destiel (Dean being a dork as he always does)

Boo

#talk #art #tickle art #spn #castiel #dean winchester #destiel

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

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— BEING DEAN’S WIFE

REQUEST : “Hey, can i request a hcs of be Dean Winchester or Jensen ackles wife? and be super sweet and pure girl that is younger than them” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : fluff, angst (if you squeeze your eyes together, til you make a crescent moon shape), a little bit of nsfw at the very end bc it’s hilarious

A/N : uh, yeah, here’s a little gift! I didn’t wanna do university work so i did this instead ☺️ anyway, i think this is just a list of things i love about dean… LMAO XXXX

he will just stare at you for no reason

well, the reason is actually that he thinks your lovely to look at LOL

all those chick flicks he secretly loves to watch? yeah, he’ll recite the romantic stuff because he’s literally down bad for you

… he’s cringing on the inside but also knows he means every word

he’s so pathetic for you and he doesn’t even care

he loves to give you forehead kisses

and he wants them, too, but your lips need to linger a bit, and he’ll close his eyes and just release all the tension in his body because he’s touch starved

he plays with your wedding ring when your hand is right there in his line of sight

he will hold your hand and just stare at the way the ring shines in the sunlight and he will grin like a gigantic dork

ex : if your talking to him or someone else, he’ll just take your hand and gently run his fingers over the ring

he likes when you hold his head against your stomach

when he’s sitting and you’re standing and you move between his legs just to hold his adorable little face close to you, HE LOVES THAT

you’ll let him talk for hours about things he likes, things he wants to share with you

and when you admit you have no idea what he’s talking about when he makes references to old pop culture stuff, he’ll show you everything

.. if all that stuff he references was associated with something else, now it’s all associated with you and him

it’s like THERAPY, to redo stuff with you, to make it his again, and yours

teaching him how to use technology because he’s an old man (affectionate), and he learns fast bc he’s SMART

LOL, witnessing firsthand how genius and resourceful dean is when something breaks [yeah, I can’t stop thinking about him making his own EMF and Sammy being a complete NIPPLEHEAD (affectionate) about it ! as a STEM girly that was so sexy of dean]

HELLO HE SINGS, TO YOU. HE WILL SING YOU ALL THE LOVE SONGS OMG

or he’ll just sing randomly and not even notice that you’re listening to him

silence, comfortable silence, not sad, just.. peaceful

he likes not having to say anything sometimes, just being there with you

he plays with your hair A LOT, he’ll take strands and just feel the texture of it between his fingertips, he’ll even try to do your hair if you let him, if it’s long enough

CUDDLES, he needs that, too.

but he’d rather be on top when you cuddle, with his cute face on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, to your breathing, falling asleep if you run your fingers gently along his back or if you play with his hair

Dean starts mumbling a lot against your chest or shoulder when you’re just relaxing and having lazy conversation as you cuddle

how about KISSING HIS LITTLE DIMPLES??? idk about you but I just wanna kiss his little dimples when he does that specific SMILE or POUT, ya know what I mean! •ᴗ•?? or •~• ???

he flirts with you because you blush so easily

he gets flustered when you flirt back, BC HE’S NOT USED TO IT

he looks like a strawberry, just eatable, with the tips of his ears all red, then the pinkish hue pouring across his freckled cheeks and down his neck in cute little splotches 😭 ALRIGHT YEAH I THINK ABOUT THIS OFTEN

teasing him ABOUT EVERYTHING because that’s hilarious, and he’s indignant but also knows you’re so right and he’ll roll his eyes at you and pretend he’s mad

he can never be mad at you, only playfully!

UHHH ! KISSING THE LITTLE WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS PRETTY EYES !!!

squeezing him very tightly when you hug and just holding him until he’s practically putting all his weight over you like a willow tree

he’ll bother you on purpose, especially if you’re serious

ex : he takes strands of your hair and will put it in your ear LMAOO or tickle your face with it bc he’s never gonna let a single moment be boring

he grins like the cutest idiot in the world and you can’t be mad at him because he looks LIKE THAT, like the cutest idiot in the whole universe

wearing his clothes and pretending to be him, he thinks it’s cute and funny

he’ll hold your face a lot

and kiss you all over bc you’re cute and pure and deserve all the affection he can offer

and his hands are big and calloused, but he’s so tender and gentle, and warm

hugs from behind

smashing your face into his back and taking in the smell of his body (Mrs Butters lied, Dean smells good)

he’ll love the smell of your hair when he nuzzles into your neck, or the smell of your skin, or the softness of it

going on cute dates, like picnics, watching movies, going to the cinema, going to comic book stores

watching Disney movies together and he can recite the Dory movie by heart because HE LOVES THAT FISH FR

he’ll make you playlists of songs that remind him of you

He takes lots of photos, Polaroids are his favourite because he gets to put them anywhere and everywhere so he can smile and see you if you’re ever busy

you’ll always dress up on Halloween or just for fun whenever he wants

✨healing his inner child✨

grocery shopping together, he pouts when you don’t let him be unhealthy

if you’re short, he’s making fun of you for being shorter than him when he has to reach for stuff on shelves that you can’t reach even on your toes

he teaches you how to cook if you don’t know how to

and you eat the crazy food combinations he comes up with, like those marshmallow mac and cheese he said he made for Sam when they were kids , I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT TASTES LIKE

he teaches you how to fix cars! he’ll stare at you when you’re being silly ANYWAY PLS TEACH ME DEAN PLS

HAHAHAHAH but like hahahahah as in, 👀 the cute little names he calls you, and you thought they were cringe when couples said them to each other but actually when HE says it to YOU it makes you swoon and you blush, but you pretend you hate it at first because you’re not used to it but he can see through you, you love it

(I’m convinced that if he calls me darlin’, I will die on the spot, or my illnesses will be cured idk idk, I just know something spontaneous or magical will happen)

sharing everything, as in food

he’ll eat your leftovers, if there are any

or if he likes your stuff better than what he’s got, he’ll eat it when he think you’re not looking, but you are definitely aware, you’re just pretending because he’s so cute

trying all the Starbucks drinks together

having to deal with his grumpiness in the morning

even better, you’re not a morning person either so you’re both grumpy

he’s so cute when he’s had his first cup of coffee in the morning :’)

when you shower together, you both play with the shampoo on you heads LMAO

he gives really good massages, like MIND-BLOWINGLY GOOD, I know them hands are magical

BUYING EACH OTHER JEWELLERY, he’s too pretty to not wear jewellery

kissing his freckles BC HES CUTE AND he blushes

kissing his scars (flashback of emo memes) NO, not saying anything about them, just gently pressing your lips on his sensitive skin so he’s not insecure about all of them

reading all sorts of magazines together BC THERES NO TOXIC MASCULINITY IN MY HOUSEHOLD AND MY BOY IS ALLOWED TO DO WHAT HE WANTS YA DUMB— right, anyway

he throws you over his shoulder and then walks around to bother you

butt smacking, that’s it, imagine the possibilities

pretending he’s picking you up at bars (like Claire and Phil from Modern Family 😭)

he’ll throw out his best pick up lines and you have to hold in your laughter at the faces he makes ALSO it works bc that’s your husband

being the best husband when you’re sick

making the yummiest foods and making sure your taking natural vitamins along with medicine

hanging out with you the whole time, not caring that you’re sick even though he’s kind of a germaphobe

whining a lot when he’s sick, but he’s partially just messing with you bc he wasn’t allowed to whine about anything as a kid (I’m right behind you, John)

he’s holding your boobs for comfort LMAO

I feel like he likes to bite, so he bites you a lot for no reason, and then goes about his day

pretending to have accents

more importantly, Dean knows how to speak Spanish, supernatural lied (all that porn and all those novelas and nothing stuck? nah, he’s very good at Spanish)

so he’ll try to seduce you with his Spanish speaking skills (and if you’re Latina/hispanic like me, you think it’s so sexy or it’s just plain cute, idk yet)

playing video games together and being very competitive

he’s very clean and very neat so you never have to tell him to clean up after himself !

he’s very protective of you, but never oversteps bc he knows you can handle yourself

he likes introducing you as his wife

it’s probably not even necessary but he’ll say it very loud and with a gigantic smile and he’ll embarrass you but it’s okay bc it’s Dean

he lies and says he’s your sugar daddy when people comment about the age gap

dude, dude, he’ll tease you a lot like… 🤣 he’ll copy your moans, or repeat stuff you said to him during sex. he’ll tell you very descriptively about how it all went down and the faces you made and the sounds you made.. you know, like in rock and a hard place [09.08]

especially if you’re shy

you wanna strangle him, but you don’t bc he’s the love of your life !

did I do this right? :( doesn’t matter, add some headcannons in the tags or comments 😭 i love husband!dean

taglist

@rominaszh @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #1.4

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paradlselost · 7 months ago

Text

Everybody 𝓛oves Somebody

earving x gn!reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ this was supposed to be fluff when i started writing but it sorta turned to hurt/comfort 💀. write an actual happy scene challenge (impossible) for me i guess. anyways this is the first fic I’ve posted on here with no smut so you know i have to make a part two with it 🙏

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ light breaking and entering 🤷 , hurt/comfort , Earving being a bit insecure , DEAN MARTIN ON THE TRACK WOOO , Earving being completely smitten with the reader , also being kinda a dork about old music , literally like 3 lines of dialog , no beta reading we die like Noir . 1.6k words

He doesn’t need to talk for you to understand him; the way desire laps at his every movement like cleansing flames. It’s what drove him here at this hour, to your little apartment in the city. And, if he had a bigger ego, to give you the opportunity to bask in the presence of one of the Seven.

His silence is unnerving in your quiet home. Somewhere in the distance cars go by and horns blare but it is muffled and seemingly unimportant in this room you stand in. There is a monster of a man in front of you, flakes of dried blood still marred the matte black armor that had become a second skin long before you two ever got acquainted.

You are acutely aware of his gaze from behind his soulless mask and every fiber of your being knows that, in this moment, you are his.

It feels strange sitting on his tongue; unable to escape his lips and be formed into words, how long has it been since he craved speech? How long since he had something for him and him only? He doesn’t know if he can answer that question, Vought takes everything sacred and turns it green. But he won’t let that happen, not this time, not with you.

If you weren’t pressed up against the counter by now, you would have been when he took a step forward. Measured and calculated; not too close as to push any boundaries or make you feel trapped, but to allow him to have a better view of you and your entirety. How beautiful you were, you are, to a being like him - who walks the line between monster and man so gracefully you might think he takes pride in it.

His breathing is audible and labored; like an overexcited dog, he pants against the balaclava that covers his lips and nose. A pitiful noise escapes his lips; choked and raw as though he hadn’t attempted to use it in years. He had learned to stop trying, to become the silent and deadly machine Vought had wanted him to be all along. But with you he suddenly found himself feeling inadequate.

Under the roof of your apartment and the stars in the night sky above; he is nothing but Earving, and that may be the scariest thing he’s ever had to face. Being entirely himself, entirely yours.

“It’s late, I didn’t think you would show up.” Your voice is soft as it breaks the quiet atmosphere, a hand gently reaching to caress his face through the thin black fabric. You’d never tire of the way he leaned into your touch.

A soft noise is all you get in response, something between a grumble and a murmur that lets you know how sorry he is to have kept you up so late, to have scared you with his entrance. It is never his intention to make you afraid; his heart simply yearns for the comfort of normalcy in a life with you.

It’s just him; no monster hiding in the shadows or figure at the end of the hall, he buries those for you - forces himself to push aside his machine like conditioning and display his heart and soul for your eyes only. How lucky you are, how lucky he is.

He wishes he would’ve met you sooner; that you could see him without his mask in the back of some room after a Payback meeting. That you could’ve kissed away the bruises left by Soldier Boy or the hot tears that stained his skin after not making his dream audition. What he wouldn’t give to have you then, to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and feel the giddiness of a teenage boy falling in love for the first time.

But he has to be content with the here and now; and while the feelings still drum in the back of his mind and fill his heart he can never be complete again. Never leave Vought to be yours, never take you to his grandmother's ranch upstate, never get married or give you children. He is broken and flawed, pieces of his past self flaked off and buried in time.

And you love him all the same; you look at him and his mask like he was crafted by the gods to answer any prayers you whispered to yourself in the dead of night. He hates it, in a way, because you give him all of you and he knows he can never return that. He knows in sixty years you will be dying and he will only just be feeling the effects of aging.

How cruel is the world that he only thinks these things around you? That when he sees your smiling face and feels the warmth of your touch he is reminded of how fleeting it all is; of how in a second it can be stripped from him like his speech, like half his brain.

You only watch as he steps away for a moment, he shys away once again and leaves you standing there, fingertips lingering with the warmth of his mask. He is careful as he makes his way over to a shelf in your living area, like he’s worried about breaking the floorboards under him or waking up your neighbors with his boots. It’s practiced, you’ve picked up on by now, how he is acutely aware of every sound he makes and how to minimize them.

Though, the quiet doesn’t seem to matter for long. A record is set on its player; Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody” crooning through the room. He seems stagnant over it for a moment, fingers grazing the speakers to feel the vibrations that leave it. He’s always been enamored with vinyls but he especially loves yours, loves using the music as an excuse to see you.

For tonight he can bury the insecurities that bubble in his chest and remind him how human he truly is; he can turn and take your hand in his and invite you to dance with him. And God, can he relish in the blush that coats your cheeks as you wrap your arms loosely around the back of his neck. He is lucky, he doesn’t need to remind himself of this fact.

His gloved hands rest on your hips, feeling the sway between the two of you. How he always wished to have someone to think of like the men in older songs sang about. The kind of pining and love one could only feel from someone truly special; he knew it was you, every moment away from your presence only meant you were the first thing on his mind constantly. Meetings, missions, his mind would wander back to his love he would be able to see again.

His heart yearned for nights like these, when your chest was flush with his and you rested your head against his breastplate. You don’t mind the blood that is still caked to him, a contrast between the black and dark silver accents of his armor. An arm moves from draping over his shoulders to tracing lazily around the now deep crimson.

The song was near complete by the time his gloved hand traveled up to grasp your chin gently, to tilt your head up and meet the eyes of his mask. He wants to be complete for you, to give you everything he has even if he’s a broken mess. He wants to show you the scars that mar his skin and let you be privy to the pain he has gone through, to the dull ache on his burns and the milky white of his eye.

He wants to lift his mask and kiss you for the first time; to let you feel his rough lips against your own.

But his prayers aren’t answered, wishes aren’t granted as a sudden knock on your door drives you two apart. It’s late, far too much so for uninvited visitors, you’re tentative as you step over to the door and peer through the hole. A sigh gracing your lips at the sight of your neighbor on the other side.

“Hey, could you turn the music down? It’s late and I have work in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” Grumbles are the only thing you’re met with as they walk off, back down the hall to their own door. Soft crackles sound through the room now, the song over and leaving you with nothing but the end of the vinyl.

The living room is empty when you return, he’s gone, having taken his leave sometime during your two second conversation with the neighbor down the hall. It’s not a surprise, though it leaves you with an empty feeling in your chest. How close you had been to getting to see the man behind the mask, to feeling his lips against yours. You know he can’t stay, that he won’t jeopardize his job for you. Or, better yet, jeopardize you with his job, but the feeling still isn’t one you like.

The record player is turned off after a moment, leaving you back in the silence you had just left, but this time without him standing in front of you. Maybe he won’t ever show you his face, let you be privy to his life before his silence, but you hold the knowledge that the machine of the Seven will always flock to you like a lamb to its shepherd, walls up and all.

And for now; that is enough.

#black noir #black noir x reader #the boys #black noir x you #black noir the boys #x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort

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gremlin-girly · 4 months ago

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Flufftober Day 10

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Bet/Game/Contest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

Warnings/tags: misogyny/catcalling/dude being a creep and asshole (not Dean), duelling, canon-typical violence, Dean being a dork, I'm putting a warning here for cringe/stalker/gross behaviour from the asshole,

Summary: Whilst perusing a stall at the renfair you encounter a guy that just won't leave you be, when Dean overhears. As penance for coming to your "rescue", he's challenged to a duel for your hand.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: I just loved writing this one. I actually went and re-watched the episode before I wrote it after I had the idea💀 I was stuck on this prompt for a while. I was thinking of pie eating contests (duh-doy) and bets with Loki but nothing seemed good enough. But I hope you enjoy reading! - Love, Grem 💜

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! 💜 Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Smoke wafted in-between the stalls and tents of Ye Olde Marketplace, the smell of meats, mead and treats making your mouth water. This was your second renaissance fair and you were determined to make it worthwhile. You were an elf this time around, not necessarily LARPing but just in costume; the whole nine yards with flowers in your hair, glitter on your cheeks and of course, pointed ears. Your outfit complimented your body excellently as well as your elven "character". Layered skirts and flowy bouse with your body adorned in earth-toned accessories, it was no wonder you were stared at by other fair goers.

One in particular had followed you from stall to stall. You tried blocking him out but the skin-crawling feeling of being watched had you on edge. You picked up a crystal at one of the stalls ran by a guy in a comical wizard hat and a long grey beard, reading the miniscule cursive card on the stand amongst the crystals. You couldn't make out every word but you thought it read something about keeping bad energies at bay.

You really needed that right now.

"Mi'lady." A voice said from beside you, making you jump. It was that guy. You can't control your facial expression as you cringe at him.

"Hi." You mutter and turn away. You secretly hope that all of the anti-douchebag crystals are out in full force because this is not something you do not want to be dealing with today.

"What doth bring a fair maiden such as yourself to a place such as this?"

His voice is grating and you suppress a shiver, opting to continue browsing instead of answering. Why did this have to happen to you?

"Hey!" The guy begins, reaching a hand out to you. "I'm talking to yo-"

You turn as you see his hand reaching towards you, ready to chew him out for being a creep, but another hand halted his hand in its tracks. Your eyes widen as you follow your rescuer's hand all the way up his arm to his face. He's dressed as some sort of knight, loose shirt and some chainmail, but his features have a stormy look to them as he glares at the guy who'd been following you. You melt into a puddle; handsome doesn't even begin to cover how damn good this guy looked. Even if he did have powdered sugar on his cheek.

"This guy bothering you?" His voice is gruff and stern, green eyes meeting yours and you find you can't quite say anything.

"Uh, well -"

"I wasn't doing anything - I was here first!" The creep protests and the look on your face says it all; you're disgusted and unimpressed.

You look back to your knight with no shining armour. "Yeah. He's bothering me."

"I declare a duel!" The creep says loudly and a few passers-by slow down to nosy in on the conversation. "For the lady's hand."

"Dude," Your hero sighs, looking incredulous at him as you roll your eyes with repulsion. "Give it a rest. Just take your damn potions and go."

The creep unsheathes a wooden sword and points it at your hero, who half-heartedly shrugs with an exasperated "really?". The creep jabs him in the chest once. He doesn't quite get to the second jab as his sword is smacked out of the way and a swift punch lands perfectly in the square of his face.

With a sickening crack he slumps to the ground, clutching a bleeding nose. You can't help but feel a little smug at the sight and your heart swoons just a little at the scene you've just experienced. A handsome knight coming to rescue a damsel in distress.

"Come on," You say to your knight, nodding to one of the other colourful stalls. "I believe I owe you a drink for rescuing me."

You set down two butter-beers on a picnic table, and jostle a brown paper bag of freshly made mini donuts in the middle. The smell that wafts from the bag is sickening - and you reach in and pop one into your mouth as soon as you're seated.

Your knight, who you found that his name was Dean, took a sip from the buttery stein in front of him, making a grunt of approval and immediately swigging more.

"Thanks again," You say over your own glass. "You fight for a maiden's honour a lot?" “It’s what I do. Saving people.” He looks like he’s about to add something else, but clears his throat, looking sheepish. “It’s a family thing, ya know?” “Hm.” You don’t know whether it’s the LARPing or if he’s being genuine, but your heart flutters again and you can't help but smile at him. He's stuffing two mini donuts into his mouth but when he catches you smiling at him, he attempts to smile back but his cheeks are too full and when you laugh at him his cheeks go pink.

"Well, cheers!" You raise your stein and clink it with his. The conversation ebbs and flows naturally and you soon find yourself engrossed in his family history - well, his character's family history - about monsters and demons and angels. It's so well-thought out you're almost embarrassed to not have anything so detailed.

After Dean's phone rings as you're traversing stalls together (nearly three hours later) and a very curt conversation with someone on the other end, Dean gives you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, duty calls." He sighs, tucking his phone away into his pocket again. You'd already exchanged numbers earlier after finding out you had more in common than you'd realised, and at the very least, if you couldn't date the guy you could at least be friends.

"That's alright. I had a blast today." You gush, grinning at him. He gives you a boyish smile in return and before he has a chance to say anything else, you lean up to place a soft peck on his cheek. Dean's smile only grows wider when you sternly remind him, "Keep in touch, Dean Winchester. I wanna know all about these monsters and the next parts of the story."

"Yes ma'am." He affirms with a short nod, making his way out of the fair, nearly tripping into a hidden rabbit hole because he can't stop looking over at you as he leaves.

You giggle and wave him out of sight. Perhaps you should make an equally intricate backstory for your LARP character, though not as sad as Dean's, using today as an example. You decide then and there that meeting Dean Winchester ought to be a turning point for something good instead of bad. Although, you can't quite decide who your next monster of the week will be.

You'll just have to call Dean for some ideas.

#Fluff #Flufftober 2024 #Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #gremlin-girly #gremlin-girly writes #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #dean supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester x female!reader #female reader #flufftober2024 #Dean at the renfair #day 9

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supernotnatural2005 · 1 month ago

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Just like the movies.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Based off of the Imagine: Dean taking you to prom.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Cuteness overload, sweet young!Dean, so much FLUFF!!!

Song Inspo: Fade into you - Mazzy Star

AN: Just something that came to me and for the fact i wish Dean got to experience some normalcy in his life. 🥲😭 Also for the sake of this fic the reader is Bobby’s daughter… I hope you enjoy 💕

Masterlist

You stood in front of your floor-length mirror, repeatedly smoothing your hands over the invisible wrinkles in your dress, examining your lightly curled hair and the little makeup you’d applied with a scrutinising eye and a nervous pulse in your chest.

You looked okay, right? Nice?

Your pink-beige dress sat strapless on your chest, cinched complimentary at your waist, and floated softly at your ankles. It wasn’t anything expensive; in fact, you’d felt a little embarrassed when you purchased it from a thrift store, eyeing solemnly as some of the girls in your year confidently walked into the classy boutique across the street.

It wasn’t like prom was a huge deal to you. To be honest, you hadn’t even planned on going at all. Although you attended high school, your heart was never fully in it. How could it be when your life outside of it was a living nightmare? Being the daughter of a hunter, you knew and had seen things only the kids in your school had watched in the movies. Because of this, you could never truly fit in, never speak of this heavy weight on your shoulders to anybody, and be believed or not called “crazy” or a “freak”.

The only person you could talk to about it was your best friend, and that’s because he’d grown up in the life too. However, he only came to stay with you and Bobby twice, maybe three times, out of the year. Ironically, he was also the person who had convinced you to go to this stupid dance too. He’d only attended the last few weeks of school and already had the place swooning. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to date him. Which is why you had been taken by surprise when he’d asked you to prom.

At first you thought he was joking; you knew he’d had a load of offers already from much more capable candidates, but when he told you he’d turned them down, you then thought he was just being nice because no one had asked you, which bothered you more somehow. A pity ask was worse than not being asked at all. But then you remembered Dean would never be so cruel; he was genuine and kind and had been your best friend for years. His ask was bonafide, and it terrified you.

You’d never had the opportunity, or at least the untainted desire, to be like all the other girls. It was just mentally impossible. Knowing what you knew, boys, proms, and which skirt went with which shirt were all a farce in comparison to what was really out there.

But because you were still a teenager and not a robot with no emotions, and maybe due to the devastating fact you had developed a teeny tiny crush on your best friend, you had said yes, and now here you were.

Dean had wanted to do it all properly too, and even though he was technically staying with you at Bobby’s, he’d left the house and given you a time of 6 o’clock to be ready by. He was a dork, but a sweet one at that, and a part of you believed even he wanted to experience some normality for once.

You heard the knock at the door from your room upstairs, and your pulse quickened and hands grew clammy. Not long after was the call of your name from your father, and you took one last look, deeming yourself presentable enough; Dean had seen you in much worse conditions, and you made your way to the stairs.

You could hear Dean and Bobby’s muffled voices below, as well as Sam’s, chiming in every now and then. Of course John was absent; he dropped the boys off and would disappear for days, weeks, like he had done this time, at a time leaving it up to you and Bobby to entertain them. Not that you minded, of course; you loved the two brothers like they were family.

With one last deep breath, you took your first steps. The sound of your heels clicking loud enough against the wood to draw the attention of the three of them. Sam’s smile was instantaneous, whilst Bobby and Dean looked on in shocked surprise. You could detect a glimmer of pride in your father’s unusually watery eyes as you made your descent, yet Dean remained motionless, almost in a trance-like state. It made you nervous. Did he think you looked ridiculous? He was only accustomed to seeing you dressed as your usual rugged, rural-looking self.

Though you could say the same for yourself. Dean was dressed in a simple black tux, but it fit him like a glove. He’d even gelled his hair to the side, accentuating this more dapper appearance. He looked amazing. Handsome.

“Y/N, you look stunning darlin’.” Bobby said once you reached the bottom step, his voice cracking with emotion. Dean still stood unblinking just behind.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting all soppy on me now, old man.” You teased, but your heart was swimming with warmth at his words. He huffed out a chuckle and shook his head, but you took his hand in yours and settled him with a grateful look. Not only for his words but for him allowing you this.

“You look amazing.” Came Sam’s response as he stepped up beside Bobby. You were beginning to get a little flustered at all of the attention and compliments, not used to receiving so many in the space of a few minutes.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You ruffled his hair, to which he batted your hand away with a grumpy frown. It was still crazy to you that he was almost at eye level with you now, despite being 4 years your senior. Then the clearing of another throat had you looking in their direction. Ah, he was alive.

“Wow. I mean. You look beautiful.” Dean finally stumbled out a little breathless. You felt your cheeks flame and prayed to God it wasn’t too noticeable. You bit your lip and ducked your head shyly, but also covertly to stop yourself from smiling so wide.

Bobby gave Dean a pointed nudge, eying the corsage he’d purchased whilst you got ready, subtly hinting at him to give it to you. Dean’s eyes widened briefly, and then he took a step closer to you, making you look up.

“I got you this.” He began and pulled the beautiful, pale pink flower, similar in colour to your dress, from its packaging, and your heart skipped. “It’s tradition, right?” He chuckled. “At least it’s what they do in the movies.” He mumbled, more so to you, and you giggled as he smoothly slipped it on your wrist.

You admired it for a moment before looking back at him. “Thank you, it’s perfect.” Your words seemed to appease him, as the smile he gave you was dashing.

“Alright, you two.” Bobby announced, forcing you to look over at him. “I’m not really worried about a curfew. I know you two are smart and wouldn’t do anything stupid.” He pointedly looks at Dean when he says that part, more so as a warning. “But be careful and, more importantly, have fun.” Now that was aimed at you.

You and Dean both nod before you give Bobby a hug and Sam another teasing ruffle of his hair.

“C’mon!” You hear him whine as you turn and make your way with Dean outside. Thankfully, he helps guide you in your heels with a hand on the small of your back as you walk the short distance across the rocky gravel toward Bobby’s car.

“Ah! Allow me.” He intercepts your attempt to open the passenger side door, his voice mockingly posh as he gives you a curtsey and an amused grin. You can’t help but laugh and echo him before you slip inside, mindful to tuck your dress in before he closes the door for you as well.

He’s quick to round the bonnet and slide in behind the wheel. When he looks over at you, his eyes are alight and shining with something you can’t decipher. But it warms you in a way you’ve tried so hard to ignore.

“You ready?”

“Let’s do this, Winchester.” Your grin mirrored his, and no sooner was he putting the car in drive and peeling out of the driveway.

Despite your initial nerves upon arrival, the idea of seeing your peers, and them seeing you with one of the most sought-after boys in school, was terrifying in itself. Yet, Dean had quickly made you forget all about them and instead you found yourself actually enjoying the night.

You’d danced until your feet were sore and laughed until your stomachs hurt, all the while forgetting your individual demons and the dark reality that awaited you beyond the doors of the gymnasium. For a moment, you were just a teenager attending your senior prom with the boy you liked. Even if he didn’t know that.

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed as a slower song echoed from the DJ set up on the stage. So far it had been mostly the pop hits of your generation, along with some 80’s throwbacks thrown in there, meaning there was minimal touching between you and the green eyed boy. Just wacky dance moves that had sure given you some odd looks and disapproving stares. Not that you took any notice.

However, assuming Dean had had his fill, you made a move to sit back at the table you’d commandeered at the beginning of the night, only to be stopped by his hand on yours.

“Where you goin’?” Dean asked with a glint in his eye and a teasing smile on his lips. You fumbled slightly with your words, the look in his eye intense as he watched you, having your stomach doing somersaults and your heart fluttering uncomfortably.

“I didn’t think… It’s a slow one. Kinda boring.” You pointed out with a nervous chuckle, as if that were obvious.

“Maybe so. But don’t I at least get one slow dance at my prom with my date?” He raised a brow, his expression serious. You gaped at him dumbly for a moment before a giggle bubbled in your chest.

“Dean, you barely attended a full two weeks, and you hated this school. What’s gotten you so dedicated to its traditions?” You teased, and then, with a gasp of surprise, you were suddenly twirled into his arms. You were toe to toe, faces inches apart as you slowly looked up into his eyes. You felt the warmth of his hand spread across your lower back, your own instinctively gripping onto his shoulder as his left hand remained clasped in yours off to the side.

“What?” He questions your shocked expression and leans in close, his lips beside your ear. “Just doing what they do in the movies.” Dean mumbles with a smile in his voice, and you bite your lip at the scent of his cheap cologne, which somehow works with his own musk, invading your senses. His closeness releasing a swarm of butterflies of nerves and excitement.

“Just like the movies.” You repeat as you pull back to look at him. He smiles down at you, not teasingly so, and void of any humour. It’s soft and warm as he begins to gently rock the two of you in time with the gentle melody of Fade into You. You feel your cheeks burn at the intensity in his eyes, wondering if he felt it too. The spark of electricity conducting through his touch, the buzzing in your mind anytime he was close, and the flutter in your chest whenever your eyes connected.

You decided to ignore the warnings in your mind, the protector of your heart, and the insecurities battling to take over. Instead, you slid both of your hands around his neck, stepping impossibly close, the subtle action not lost on him as he rested both hands on your waist, guiding you into a slow circle on the dance floor.

When you looked into his eyes, you saw adoration, but you also saw conflict, a brief moment of uncertainty flickering in his jaded eyes before he defeated his inner battle and slowly leaned down to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the initial contact but were quick to flutter shut at the softness caressing your own, slowly, experimentally, as if this had been something he’d wanted to do for a very long time. Everything around you seemed to disappear, fading into a blur of stillness, leaving just you and him in a moment you knew you would treasure forever.

When he pulled away, his cheeks were slightly pink and pupils blown, eyes filling with doubt and apology.” I'm sorry.” He worried, seemingly shocked by his own actions, and you shook your head in dismissal, your grin unstoppable as it spread across your lips.”

“Don’t be.” You told him and watched as he relaxed a little. “Just like the movies.” You whispered, and the two of you lit up with laughter, only to come back together in the sweet moment of something unspoken but with a mutual understanding.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, just a little something sweet for the end of the week lol 😅 Let me know what y'all think?

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moonlightspencie · 2 years ago

Text

bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

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dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby

#dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester spice #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #luna’s dean fics

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cringemesstickles · 4 months ago

Text

Howls Of Laughter

(TickleTober Day 8: Nuzzles)

Summary: 18yo Dean decides to grow a beard. 14yo Sam thinks he looks ridiculous.

Word Count: 1456

A/N: Another SPN fic because I want to 🤭

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The Winchester boys were growing up, but some things never really changed… except for Dean’s facial hair.

Dean, now eighteen, had made the impulsive decision to grow out his stubble. He pitched the idea to Sam randomly one day at a diner, insisting he needed a new look. Sam however was quite positive that it had little to do with self expression, and more to do with impressing girls…

A few weeks later, Sam hadn’t really paid much attention to any new features since he didn’t think Dean would actually go through with it. He thought his brother would grow it, hate it, and shave it all off without ever acknowledging it.

The younger had been in his own world, his nose predictably buried in a thick book as he lounged on the worn-out couch in the motel room.

The older Winchester was standing on the other side of the room, looking in a mirror and inspecting the new facial hair. It wasn’t as thick as their father’s by any means, but it was fairly scruffy. He had never really tried to grow a beard before… it definitely different from the light stubble he was used to, but he figured the ladies were into the rugged look nowadays.

He let his gaze wander from his face, seeing Sam in the mirror. He could see that his little brother was deep into whatever he was reading, but that never stopped him from bugging the kid before.

He turned around and sauntered over, perching himself on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sammy. How do you like the new addition?”

Sam looked a bit irritated about his reading time being disturbed. He didn’t really care about whatever Dean was blabbering about… he just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet for once. Nevertheless, he sighed, looking up to acknowledge the elder.

What he wasn’t expecting was for his brother to look like a damn wolverine.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as they landed on the new beard, and he had to do a double take.

When the hell did that happen?

“Uh… Dean?”

Dean smirked, stroking his facial hair. “Yeah? Lay it on me, little brother.”

Oh, Sam would lay it on him alright.

The shorter boy set the book in his lap and covered his mouth with his hand.

“You look like a werewolf.” He said with a snicker that was bordering on full laughter as he saw the offended expression on his brother’s face.

The older Winchester’s expression faltered but he quickly gave a smirk, trying to recover from the blow to his ego.

“A werewolf, or a handsome lumberjack?”

That was all it took for Sam to fall over on his side, clutching his stomach as he burst into loud, mocking laughter.

“A-A handsome lumberjack?! You’re such a dork!!” Barked the younger, unable to control his amused reactions.

Dean grimaced and crossed his arms. “Quit laughing, Sammy! You’re just jealous that I can grow a beard and you can’t.”

That only drew more laughter from the boy, tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, please… I’d rather be able to enjoy a full moon!”

Dean’s eye twitched as his little brother continued to cackle, a hint of annoyance growing within him. Y’know what? If the kid wanted to be a sassy little shit, so be it.

“Fine! You wanna see a werewolf?! I’ll show you a werewolf!”

With a growl, Dean lunged at his younger brother, pinning him down with little effort. Sam gasped, eyes widening as he processed the threat.

“W-Wait, no, don’t! I-I didn’t- EEK!”

The kid fell into fresh laughter when his older brother dove down and began nuzzling at his tummy with his scruffy face, the scratchy whiskers rubbing against his soft skin, which immediately quivered on contact.

“Dehehehean, nooo! I-I’m sorry! Hahaha!”

A wicked grin spread across Dean’s face as a low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.

“It’s a little late for that, kid. You hurt this werewolf’s feelings and now you have to pay!” He gave a playful growl, shaking his head back and forth, making sure the boy felt every bristle on his face.

Of course he wasn’t ACTUALLY hurt. He was just being a goof for the sake of it. Besides�� he hadn’t seen Sam laugh that hard in what felt like forever. That uncontrollable belly laughter was the type of sound that he usually had to tickle out of him, but he didn’t have to this time.

It was just a bonus.

The nuzzles continued with full force, drawing squeal after squeal from the poor boy. He shoved at his brother’s head to no avail, kicking his legs and twisting his sides. But no matter which way Sam wriggled, Dean followed, making sure the soft belly got an appropriate amount of torment.

“No escaping, kiddo! You poked the beast, now you face the consequences!”

“Noooo! I’m sorry! P-Please stohohohop!”

Sam’s pleas were becoming more desperate and Dean could tell he was legitimately running out of breath, so he decided to give him a small break, pulling away and giving a cheeky grin.

His heart melted when he saw his brother’s cute, smiling face.

“Aww, is little Sammy too ticklish? Should’ve thought about that before provoking the werewolf, kid!”

Sam’s cheeks were bright red and only seemed to darken at the teasing. He panted for air, trying to glare at his big brother, though it was quite difficult to look angry when there was a goofy smile stuck on his face.

“Y-You’re a jerk… I hope you- AHH!”

The threat was cut short as Sam squealed once more and let out a shrieky guffaw, tossing his head back and writhing with renewed vigor. Dean had swiftly bent down again, but this time, he blew a big raspberry on his brother’s belly.

After each raspberry, he went straight back for another. It wasn’t long before Sam was gasping again, cherry red and struggling to breathe. When the laughter went silent, Dean decided to stop for good, ruffling his brother’s hair and helping him sit up.

Sam clutched his stomach, panting and giggling with tear stained cheeks.

“T-That was mehehean…” he mumbled, slumping into the couch.

Dean just snorted at that and lightly shoved his brother, giving a sly smirk.

“You loved it. But you might’ve been right… maybe I should leave the bearded look to dad.”

Sam nodded. “Definitely… the werewolf look doesn’t suit you, jerk.”

The elder scoffed and jabbed the kid in the shoulder “Bitch.”

The familiar banter made Sam smile, but he quickly regained a snarky tone.

“Now, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of all that is holy, go shave that thing off… unless you want dad to mistake you for a werewolf.”

Dean rolled his eyes, hopping off the couch and starting for the bathroom.

As the older Winchester stood up to head to the bathroom, Sam’s giggles finally started to die down, but he was still watching his brother with that impish grin.

Dean paused in front of the bathroom door, turning back with a raised brow.

“You got somethin’ to say, nerd?”

Sam bit his lip, trying to suppress the teasing comment forming on his tongue, but couldn’t resist. “You sure you’re not gonna howl at the moon before you shave that thing off?”

Dean gave an exaggerated eye roll, but his lips twitched into a smirk.

“You’re just begging for a round two.” He glared playfully as a warning, causing the younger to widen his eyes and raise his hands in surrender.

“N-No! I’m good!” Sam’s laughter bubbled up again, the thought alone making him nervous. “I don’t think I could survive another werewolf attack…”

Dean snorted, but his expression softened a bit.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll let you off the hook this time… But, next time you make fun of me, you’re screwed. I may not be a werewolf, but I am part tickle monster. Consider yourself warned.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a bit, but he was still smiling widely. He huffed and leaned on the armrest of the couch, giggling at the silly threat.

“Duly noted, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And with that, Dean disappeared into the bathroom. And when he re-emerged, he was no longer a scruffy werewolf… just regular old Dean Winchester.

“There… ya happy now?” Asked the older brother, stroking his face which was back to its regular stubbled state.

Sam grinned at the sight. “Very. You look like a regular old dork again.”

Hearing yet another sassy insult, Dean huffed with exasperation.

“You’re never gonna quit sassing me, are you?”

Sam simply smiled cheekily, giving a quick, “Nope.”

The kid was a brat… but at least he was honest. And Dean frankly wouldn’t have him any other way.