#dean x deaf!reader

[agxxb]

Greaser .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dean winchester x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend is working on his car. if only he wasn’t so attractive.

warnings: soft smut. clit rubbing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). praise. dean is sweaty and has greasy hands. [1.5k]

The sunshine brought infinite hues of green, a palate of nature kissing creation alive. The light flowed, poppling like the water of a river, and the heat brought a day best for the dreaming of new poetry.

The world was quiet, the only noise being the sound of metal clanging as Dean Winchester worked on his car. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline, dripping down his temples and catching on the short stubble of his beard. His biceps flexed as he gripped the wrench within his grease-covered hand, jaw clenching as he focused.

A quiet grunt left his mouth when he finally stood up straight, a slight ache in his back from how long he had been hunched over the car bonnet. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glanced around the salvage yard belonging to Bobby, green eyes piercing through the waves of heat surrounding him.

You looked out at him, subtly biting your lip as you watched your boyfriend’s back muscles ripple beneath his grey shirt. You had spent the last fifteen or so minutes making fresh lemonade, pouring a glass for the younger Winchester before pouring another two.

Walking out the back door, the heat hit you like a truck. Condensation had already began forming on the outer side of the two glasses in your hands, dampening the pads of your fingertips. Your eyes squinted slightly, trying to see through the sun shining directly into them.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Dean greeted as you approached him, the man turning around and leaning against his car. He held a rag, wiping his hands free of the grease covering them.

You held out one of the glasses, smiling as he took it. “Made some lemonade, thought you could do with it.” He took a sip, closing his eyes as his mouth no longer felt dry. “You’ve been out here for hours.”

“This is good,” Dean complimented, taking another sip. You copied him, bringing your own glass up to your lips. “How’d you make this?”

However, his question fell upon deaf ears. Despite him being the one talking to you, you were too focus on Dean. His plump lips puckering slightly as he sipped his drink, tongue peaking out to lick them; His eyes, green enough to have an entire forest inside them; The freckles that danced across his cheeks and nose, almost as though they were lovers entwined in a waltz or leaves dancing in the wind; And his hands, veins visible as he clutched the glass between his calloused fingers.

Dean followed your eye-line, a smirk threatening to break out on his face when he realised what you were staring at.

“Sweetheart?” You hummed, reluctantly looking away from his fingers and back up to his face. “I asked you a question.”

“I, um…” You thought back to what he had asked, trying to remember what you’d last heard him say. “Just lemons and a bit of sugar.”

It was Dean’s turn to hum, though his was in amusement. He knew you had a thing for his hands, he just didn’t realise you’d like them even more with oil covering them. He placed his glass down on the side table holding his tools, and walked closer to you, gently taking your drink from your hand and placing it beside his.

You glanced up at him, your boyfriend towering over your frame. He saw the need hidden in your eyes, the want you had for him. Dean’s hand lifted, palm resting against your cheek before it moved down to your neck. He pulled you closer to him, watching your eyes widen in desire at his show of dominance.

“You think you’re so sly,” he teasingly said before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

You moaned into the kiss, hands going to his torso. You gently squeezed, feeling the muscles you been appreciating not so long ago.All thoughts that weren’t Dean had left your mind, your only focus being your boyfriend.

The heat between you both had become more sultry than the blazing sun. The kiss quickly deepened, both as desperate for one another as the day you had first met.

You momentarily pulled back just to tell him that you needed him. In fact, you craved him. Your hands moved under his shirt, feeling his abs beneath your fingers and gently scratching with your nails.

“Yeah, Baby?”

Baby? In the years you and Dean had been together, he had never called you ‘baby’. Baby was his car, not anyone else — not even you. You blinked, the man seemingly realising the effect that word had on you.

You licked your bottom lip, gently pushing him back to sit in the driver’s seat of his car. You placed your hands on his knees, spreading his legs just enough for you to slot your body in between them.

His breath hitched when your hand brushed against his hardened bulge and you raised your eyes to his as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his thighs with some help. His cock bounced against his stomach, and he hissed in pleasure as you grasped him in your hand.

He squeezed his eyes shut when you spread the precum over his head, letting out a low grown. You licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he looked down at you. You swirled your tongue around the head before taking more into your mouth.

"Fuck, Baby.”

You moaned around him, his hand coming to rest at back of your head. You breathed slowly out of your nose as you moved down, wrapping a hand around what you couldn't fit in your mouth. You started bobbing your head, hollowing out your cheeks as your lover trembled beneath you.

"Good girl.”

You fastened your movements, though Dean stopped you a few moments later. He grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up onto his lap, a leg either side of his waist. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel how wet you were, soaked through your underwear.

Dean didn’t even bother with pulling down, simply moving them to the side in his desperation. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant.

"Christ, Sweetheart... This worked up over me?" His smug smile eventually turned into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, his lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left. "That's it..."

With your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist, your movements had to be second nature by now. His stubble dragged across your neck, making you shudder with pleasure as he left kisses along your collarbone.

You moaned as you lifted up only to sit back down on him. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, your head thrown back in ecstasy, and your legs slightly shook as the pleasure rippled through your body, toes curling.

"Good girl," Dean praised, voice deep and raspy from his sybaritism. He let out a moan of his own as he felt you clench around him, clearly enjoying yourself. "You like that?"

"Mhm," you nodded, a whimper leaving you as you sped up. "Fuck."

He reciprocated the sound, biting his lip as he stared down at where you both were joined. He could see your slick coating him, a white ring around the base. Dean always loved to watch you take him, especially when he could sit back and watch you ride him.

"Gonna cum," you told him, nails digging into his shoulders. At this, Dean grabbed your hips tighter and began pounding up into you.

Your mouth was open as a constant stream of moans and whimpers left unashamedly. One of his hands moved down, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves, and a sharp gasp left your lips.

Everything went quiet as white hot pleasure rolled through your body, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You clung onto him for dear life, legs shaking around his thick thighs.

"Where?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”

You knew it wasn't exactly smart, seeing as he wasn't wearing any protection, but you needed to feel him. He kept the same pace, no longer caring about your pleasure and simply chasing his own high.

"God damn-!" Dean groaned, slamming into you one final time. His orgasm triggered another for you, squeezing around him tightly.

After a moment, you sighed, laying your head on his shoulder whilst still feeling him pulse inside of you. Your chest rose and fell against his own, heavy breaths being traded between the two of you.

You lifted slightly as Dean pulled out, though you stayed on his lap, in his arms. His hand moved to your waist, thumb gently rubbing it as he kissed your forehead.

"Ah, son of a bitch,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. You lifted your head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing slightly in silent question. “I didn’t finish my lemonade.”

[ultravi0lence14]

Crush

dean winchester x fem!reader

2.6k | angst, fluff

summary: operation, have you and dean actually get along. that is all sam begged and pleaded to happen. though, it worked better than he initially had hoped.

sam believed that if he rolled his eyes anymore, they’d get stuck at the back of his head. he loved you, don’t get it twisted. it’s just that when you and dean were in the same room, things seemed to get a lot more. . . aggravating, to say it lightly.

the winchester brothers had met you around three years ago on a hunt in washington. a pesky demon is what brought you all together. well, it was more or less you and sam. dean was just an added on bonus that wasn’t really a bonus because you wanted to slap him across the face every ten seconds.

you and dean winchester hadn’t gotten along since the jump, and sam could easily vouch for the statement since he’d been in the middle of the lengthy feud for many years. dean was cocky, stubborn, and always had to be right, something you couldn’t stand. as someone who strived on being independent, a man like dean was a thorn in your side.

for years, anytime sam called you to help on a case, or you three were in the same place at the same time, you and dean would always end up in some kind of fight. whether it be his idea was better than yours or dean’s constant need to blare his music in the car it didn’t matter. you would always fight and sam would always dream of cutting his eyes out with a blunt butter knife

this hunt wasn’t any different. a witch had been using the residents of a small town in mississippi as her personal test dummy’s. droppings bodies left, right, and centre. so with a call from sam, you hopped on a bus and met the two brothers at their motel in kentucky, ready to join the hunt.

dean always teased you for not having a constant form of transportation, but you weren’t a douche who rode in a classic muscle car. especially one who was attached to it as a baby is to their bottle, so his digs just went completely deaf to you.

knocking on the winchester’s motel room door, sam greeted you with a gleaming smile on his face. arms extended for a hug, you cuddled into his chest and rested your head by his shoulder, catching a glimpse of dean shovelling a mini pie into his mouth.

when the older brother caught your eye, he just scoffed. hands moving to cross over his chest as you stepped away from sam and did the same.

“we really don’t need her help sammy.” dean practically snarled, mouth tilting up in a devious smirk. “she’s probably already got plans with all her little pals on the bus.”

sam just sighed, already mentally prepared for the kindergarten level digs you two were going to throw at each other. he almost left the room as he watched your shoulders square and your jaw clench. “oh very funny dean.” you retorted, hands resting in your pockets so you didn’t choke the man. “why don’t i just go slash all your tires? then maybe we can be bus buddies.”

“don’t you dare even think about touching my baby!” dean’s finger had lifted in the air in a pointing motion at you, and sam felt his hands lift up and slap against his thighs. “oh dear god, you guys are killing me! there’s people who need are help, and you two fighting like an old married couple isn’t going to help them.”

the sour look on your face when sam mentioned you and dean in the same sentence as married couple could’ve been made as a reaction photo, yet sam and dean didn’t acknowledge it as they led the way outside and to the infamous chevy impala.

nothing could ever prepare sam for the long car rides with you and his brother. it was either copious hours of bickering or a tense silence that had sam so uncomfortable he questioned if walking was a good idea.

this time the silence was so thick, sam genuinely reached his breaking point. Years of breaking up your arguments and having to be the middleman drove him to a dire conclusion; he needed to get you and Dean to like each other.

the plan was truly fool proof. force the two of you to work on the case together and boom, all the arguing and petty fights would be a faraway memory. sam had to contain his grin when he mentioned that interviewing the families is more of a one person job than going to the morgue. his grin didn’t leave his face even as he mentioned that he was better with comforting grieving families than either you or dean.

no words were spoken between you and dean in the car ride towards the morgue. in all honesty, you never knew what to say to the man. he was always angry, finding something to get mad about and always finding a way for it to be your fault.

truthfully, maybe that’s why you hated him. he never let you explain yourself, always jumping to conclusions and blaming you for the smallest things. if it wasn’t for his quick temper and communication issues, you’d probably have a huge crush on the man.

it was dean winchester at the end of the day. and as much of a dick as he was to you, you witnessed those moments he had with sam or with a family member or victim on a case where he wasn’t an absolute dickhead. it was sad really, how much dean hated you. sam spoke up and down that you and dean would be a great duo, yet you never got to prove him right or wrong since his older brother couldn’t go five minutes without arguing with you.

although, something you weren’t aware of was that dean’s thoughts were very similar to yours. he didn’t know why you got under his skin, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you for weeks after you would leave.

the man knew there was nothing wrong with you. he was just stubborn, and pushing people away before he got too close to them was his specialty. what if you became someone special in his life? what if because of that, you died, and then dean would blame himself for the rest of his life.

it was easier to keep you at an arms length than to get too close, and yeah sam would say he was being childish, but dean didn’t really care. you hating him and staying alive was better than him meaning something to you and that being the reason you were dead.

the trip to the morgue was awkward for the better part. you were trying to rid your mind of any thoughts you had on dean in the car and the man in question was trying his best to remain a good foot away from you. both of you could tell that something had shifted in that stupid ten minute car ride, but neither of you wanted to bring it up.

sam knew something was up when he met with you and dean again. it wasn’t even close to his end goal, but he knew that he was getting close to the feud between you and dean to finally be over.

his final shove was suggesting that you and dean check out the home of moira carlson while he goes to talk to the sheriff in charge of the murders. an argument raged on, but begrudgingly, you and dean left together to go investigate the number one suspects home.

dean had gotten to the home in under ten minutes, and now you found yourself and dean sneaking around the back of mrs carlson’s home to slip in the back door.

a scoff could be heard behind you. and as you turned around, you saw dean with an exasperated look on his face. “jesus woman, can you breathe any louder?”

the pettiness of dean’s complaint just had you rolling your eyes, turning back so you could make your way to where the sliding back door was; unlocked thankfully.

moira carlson’s home definitely screamed evil witch who enjoys killing people. occult items and witchy like items were sprawled around the living and dining room. a big pot in the kitchen alongside weird looking herbs also tipped you off. you would’ve mentioned how cliche all of this was if dean didn’t drop and shatter a statue like a dumb ass.

“are you serious!” you exclaimed, whipping around to look at dean’s hunched figure, trying to clean the broken pieces of the statue in a hurry. “can you not be a complete oaf for one damn second?”

the eldest winchester just laughed humourlessly, standing back up with all the broken pieces in his hand. “i’m not the one stomping around like an ogre. she can be home for all we know.”

“coming from the guy with the cinder blocks for shoes.” you scoffed, both you and dean looking down at his monstrous boots. “all of this complaining is really rich coming from you, dean winchester.”

it seemed that at that very moment, dean had enough of your guys’ bickering. with a wild look in his eye, dean flew off the handle in a way that you probably wouldn’t be able to describe in full accuracy ever again. he started off with a disbelieved “really!” and then ranted on for longer than you ever could’ve pictured.

“how is it possible that you think i’m the one always complaining, miss whines a lot.” your eyes buggered out of your head as you looked on past dean. “you know, i’ve been keeping my cool for sammy’s sake but you are really a piece of work. i know i’m not the best person to be around 24/7 but cmon, can you not try and be civil for once?”

he kept going. yet you weren’t focused on whatever dean was saying, for moira carlson, in all of her evil witchy goodness, was coming up behind dean with a spell on her tongue that did not look friendly at all.

“dean.” you muttered, watching as the now ghastly looking woman got closer. he didn’t listen though, just threw his arms in the air and let his hands reside on his hips like a child. “oh so mature y/n. go on and interrupt me-“

“get down you idiot!” your body smacked down to the floor just as the witch threw dean across the room. poor bastard didn’t even have time to turn around. attempting to take shelter behind the sofa, you grabbed on to dean’s sprawled body and shuffled across the floor while trying to shoot at mrs carlson.

somehow, you got the two of you behind the sofa, propping dean in a sitting position before resting your body over the couch so you could take a shot. dean was frantically texting sam, warning his brother about what danger you two were in while wheezing in the air that got knocked out of his lungs.

with a mighty wave of her hand, the witch blew the couch into two pieces. dean’s body slumped back to the floor, too bruised and in pain to allow the man to even move a muscle. a loud cackle could be heard as mrs carlson moved in on dean, ready to deliver her final blow.

she was about to, if it wasn’t for your gun going off at the perfect time and striking her right in her forehead. the woman slumped to the ground beside dean, the man in question shimmying as far away from her as possible before you rushed over and propped him up on the nearest wall.

“oh god.” you mumbled, watching as dean nearly coughed up a lung. you knew he was okay, he took worse beating than this. it was just the fact of seeing him get thrown around like a rag doll that had an emotion bubbling to the forefront of your mind. one you never thought you’d experience towards dean.

waving you off, dean sat himself up straighter and took a deep intake of air. “i’m okay y/n, it’s fine. though you probably just saved my life.” dean all of a sudden had the realization that he didn’t need to be so closed off all this time. you could easily handle your own, and having someone like you would probably be the best thing that ever happened to him.

a sheepish blush rose to your cheeks as dean stared at you longer, and suddenly, you realized that maybe the man wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. deep down, you cared about him. yeah, you two could fight like cats and dogs, but so does everyone. at the end of the day, you would always be there for dean and he’d do the same for you.

“i’m sorry for how i’ve treated you these past couple of years.” your random word vomit had dean snapping his head up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at your nervous features. “i know you have your own way of doing things and i shouldn’t pester you about everything. it sucks that you probably still hate me, but can we please work on us-“

“i never hated you.” dean cut you off so quickly it was almost like he couldn’t bare hold down those words any longer. your nervous face turned shocked, and suddenly dean had the confidence to say what he always wanted to. “ever since i was young, every person i’ve ever cared about either leave’s or dies, and i somehow just knew that you were special the first moment i met you.” a somber smile appeared on your face, and you found yourself moving closer and closer to dean as he continued to speak.

“i’m sorry i never gave you a chance sweetheart, but would you give me one now?” you didn’t have to be asked twice, for in an instant you perched yourself in dean’s lap and smashed your lips onto his.

dean didn’t take long to reciprocate your actions. hands moving to go around your waist and nestle in your hair while your own gripped tightly onto his t shirt. dean’s mouth was exploring all the places he wished he could’ve kissed you sooner. your soft lips, all around your face. when he moved on to placing sloppy kisses on your neck, you felt the vibrations of his voice against your skin as he kept mumbling. ‘so perfect’ and ‘you’re so beautiful, everything i could ever dream of.’

unknown to the two of you, sam had just walked in the front door and was ready to defend you all against the destructive witch. though to his surprise — and slight disgust if he was being honest, he stepped into the living room to see you and dean behind a destroyed couch. the two of you were heavily making out and dean just put it upon himself to wrap his one arm around the underside of your ass, hoisting you further up on his body and giving it a firm squeeze in the process.

“well fuck.” sam mumbled to himself, slightly gagging up his salad from lunch as he watched dean pull your head back by a tuft of your hair and start leaving trails of hickeys down your neck.

“yeah, that’s enough of that.” the youngest winchester just silently mumbled to himself as he walked back outside the front door, leaving you and dean in the middle of a random house to sort out all of your pent up feelings in a way he definitely shouldn’t be seeing.

[ninii-winchester]

One of The Girls

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : sexual content, age gap, implied smut. MDNI

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Hunting is fun, sometimes it gets overwhelming but Y/n liked hunting with the Winchesters. Mostly because she a has the hots for the older Winchester. He, however, never made a move, even though his eyes seem to follow her body everywhere she went, hinting he felt the same. She knew he feels he's too old for her. For her, being twenty seven and him being thirty six was not a big deal. He was only nine years older than her yet he made it seem like he was old enough to be her father.

It was a gruesome ghoul hunt but they weren't as tired. After getting cleaned up, the trio decided to hit the bar. Dean had his classic rock music blasting from the speakers of the Impala and she rolled her eyes at his old man antics. She plugged in her earphones to listen to her pop music. She had only been on her second song when the car came to a halt and the bar came into view. The three of them made their way into the bar and ordered three beers to ease into the night.

"Man I hate ghouls." Dean rasped gripping his bottle. Her gaze lingered on his fingers that wrapped around the bottle, oh what could those fingers do to me. Her eyes flickered to his lips as he took a swig from it. I wonder how they would feel wrapped around my nipples.

"Me too, They’re gross." Sam commented pulling her out her lewd thoughts.

Y/n chose not to add a comment letting her eyes wander around the bar. She noticed a small set up for karaoke where a guy was slurring the words of a song she didn't recognise. She watched the lot of women present around the place knowing one of them would be lucky enough to end up in Dean's bed tonight. A soft sigh left her lips at the thought.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" Dean asked and she felt as if his green eyes were piercing her soul.

"Peachy." She replied. She motioned the bartender over and ordered three shots of whiskey for herself. She downed them as soon as they were poured.

"Woah slow down." Sam said watching her gulp down the amber liquid.

"Loosen up Sammy." She felt buzzed, the alcohol in her allowed her to let loose. The taller man just shook his head and watched in amusement as she made her way towards the karaoke set up.

"You think she'll regret this in the morning?" Sam asked his older brother. Dean smirked at his little brother before answering.

"Depends on how bad of a singer she is." His eyes never leaving her figure. He watched as she selected a song the she was going to sing and an unfamiliar tune began to play through the speakers. He watched as she sang and swayed to the beat of the song. She was good. If he didn't know better he'd think she's a pop-star.

"She's good." Sam commented and his brother nodded in acknowledgment. One song rolled into four and the patrons were thankful that she replaced the tone deaf drunk.

She was having the time of her life dancing and singing, she could feel Dean's eyes on her and she got an idea. She knew she might come to regret it but she couldn't care less at the moment and made her way towards the boys.

"Aren't you on a roll today." Sam teased looking at her with a grin.

"It's called having fun." She pouted at her tall friend which made him laugh.

"So..." Dean drawled, poking his lips with his tongue that she wanted at places she couldn't say out loud. "Are you done having fun?" He asked to which she shook her head.

"Nope, I'm just getting started." She took Dean's glass from his hold and made her way back to the makeshift stage. He watched as she downed whatever it was that he was drinking, looking him straight in the eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath at the action. The music began and started singing,

Lock me up and throw away the key

He knows how to get the best out of me

I'm no force for the world to see

Trade my whole life just to be

She sways her hips sensually to the beat and misses the next few lyrics as she's too engrossed in the music but then she continued,

Give me tough love

Leave me with nothin' when I come down

My kinda love

Push me and choke me 'til I pass out

She looks directly at Dean, as if she's telling him to do it to her. At that moment she thanked herself that decided to forego her usual T-shirts and settling on a crop top.

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight)

She closed her eyes and let her hands wander all over her body. Dean looked around the bar and noticed he's not the only one enjoying the show. His fists clenched on the table and his glare darkened at her on the stage.

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight), oh

She watched his green eyes turn dark. She knew he had him exactly where she wanted him. She smirked playfully before continuing her ministrations.

Push me down, hold me down

Spit in my mouth while you turn me on

I wanna take your light inside

Dim me down, snuff me out

Hands on my neck while you push it out

And I'm screamin' out

Just the thought of manhandling her, pushing her around, choking her while thrusting into her sweet little cunt. Imagining her moans and screams when he brings closer to edge and deny her release. Stuffing her tight pussy with his seed. Dean felt himself shudder the mere thought. She's playing with fire here. He always kept telling himself she's too young for him, that he'd corrupt her if he ever got his hands on her. But by the looks of it, it seems she wants to be corrupted.

Top of the world but I'm still not free

It's such a secret that I keep

Until it's gone, I can never find peace

Brace my whole life just to be

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight)

As the song came to an end Y/n felt like her skin was on fire, her body felt too hot after watching Dean's reaction to her. This one of her best and worst ideas. She got down from the stage and it clicked that she basically seduced Dean in a bar full of strangers with his brother sitting beside him. But can she go back? No. She's going to be a big girl and deal with the consequences of her actions.

Her thoughts were broken by a blond man blocking her way. She looked at his face, he had blue eyes and wasn't bad looking but he wasn't Dean.

"That was quite a performance, sweetheart." He said, the nickname didn't have the same effect on her the way it did when Dean called her 'sweetheart'.

"Thanks I guess?..." it came out more like a question.

"So, would you like to be one of my girls tonight?" He asked his hand trailing down her arm.

"I'll give you ten seconds to get your hand off MY girl and get lost." A deep voice said from behind the stranger. The stranger turned around and Y/n saw Dean standing there with a killer look on his face.

"Surely you can have a turn, man. But after I'm done." The stranger replied smugly. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed before throwing a punch to his jaw. The man fell to the ground and was knocked out cold.

Dean eyes trained on her with a glare, his jaw tensed. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the bar. He slammed her against the wall, she let out a gasp at the impact. The sound made Dean's blood rush to all the right places.

"Dean." She whimpered as he gripped her hips tightly.

"Shh, not a word sweetheart. You've been a bad girl." Dean slammed his hips against hers making her choke out a moan. "Aren't you a desperate one, baby." He cooed tauntingly, lips hovering above hers but not touching. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Look at you, trying to be a good girl now huh?" She nodded again. "Speak, baby. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to do all those things to me."

"Oh I'll do much worse." He chuckled darkly. He turned her around, her chest against the wall, his chest pressed against her back. He leaned over her to whisper in her ear. "I'll make you my only girl tonight."

Y/n shuddered at his words knowing it was going to be a long night.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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[wandering-winchesters]

Every Embrace

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,218

Summary: How sharing a bed with Dean Winchester started and where it is now.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level Violence, mostly fluff.

Requested: Yes, by Anonymous. “could you plzzzzzz make a fic where dean and Y/N share rooms or beds when on hunts and they aren’t dating but find comfort in cuddling and being near each other, especially dean. can he be the initiator and the sap for physical touch?”

A/N: Requests are open! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, life has been absolutely crazy! Hope to get back to posting regularly soon! <3 as always, please let me know what you think.

Masterlist

The first time we shared a bed was out of necessity. Dean had been driving for 10 hours straight, all of us were exhausted, sore and just tapped out for the day. The Wisconsin motel had come up suddenly, the last one for another hour. Dean had parked the impala and I had volunteered to be the one to go in and get us a room. Upon checking in, they informed me that they only had one room left, with two beds. I accepted and paid for the room, returning to the car. Intending to let Sam and Dean have the beds and I’d stay in the impala. The second I had suggested this to them it was shot down quickly. 

Dean had immediately objected, stating that he’d stay in the impala and I could have his bed. Internally, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I helped them bring the bags in, letting them get settled. Sam quickly fell asleep on his bed, his clothes a rumpled mess. Exhaustion evident by the deep sleep he had been swallowed up by. Dean had hopped in the shower, mumbling something about needing to wash off the rock salt from hunting ghosts earlier in the day. I changed into comfier clothes, grabbing a pillow off of Deans bed and the blanket that I keep in my duffle at all times and quietly closed the motel door behind me. 

I opened the back door to the impala and tossed my pillow in, spreading the blanket down over the seat before I had climbed in and shut the door behind me. I laid down, wrapped myself tight with the blanket I had brought and settled in as best I could in the cramped back seat. I had almost fallen asleep, when the door by my feet was yanked open. I yelled, fully prepared to kill whatever had decided to disturb my rest. I quickly backed off once I realized it was Dean. 

He asked what I was doing and why I was in the impala when I was supposed to take the bed. I explained that I knew he was sore and I wanted him to have the bed. He refused. After a couple minutes of arguing, he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me towards the open door. Mumbling that we could share the bed, he wasn’t about to allow me to sleep in the car. I tried to put up a fight, but he silenced me with a look. An exhausted, pleading look. I caved, and followed him inside. He had silently crawled into the bed, his back to the middle. I had carefully settled in next to him, mirroring his position, our backs had been to one another. That was until a nightmare had woken me up, a gasp had left my lungs and I had sat straight up. Dean had immediately noticed and his hand grabbed onto my own. He pulled me down against him, silently embraced me and lulled me back to sleep. 

-

The second time was out of fear, Dean terrified to let me out of his reach for more than a second. We had unknowingly stumbled upon a hoard of demons, only making it out thanks to Sam and Deans quick thinking. I had frozen in place, fear overwhelmed my senses which allowed one of the demons to throw me head first down a set of stairs. I had blacked out, a concussion another injury to add to my long list of hunting ailments. I had awoken to Dean shaking my shoulders, his face swimming before my eyes like the image seen inside of a kaleidoscope. His words had been silent and they had fallen on deaf ears, a temporary loss of hearing plagued my senses, only to return a short time later. He had pulled me into his arms, cradled me close against him and rushed me out to the impala. His grasp on me firm, but gentle. Once we returned safely to the motel, he ignored my every protest and cleaned me up to his satisfaction. 

The cut on my forehead and my splitting headache the only proof of the internal injury that was my concussion. He shushed me as he applied the bandage to my forehead, his eyes scanned my own for any hint of pain that he had not addressed. Once he was satisfied, he helped me down off the counter. A heavy silence had fallen between us, I was exhausted and simply didn’t have the energy for the argument that I was sure was going to follow. It didn’t however, he simply hugged me. His arms tight around my waist, his chin rested against the crown of my head. His breathing was escalated, sharp and had the edge of panic. I hugged him back, allowing his touch to calm me. I only let go when he pulled away, I had believed that was the last of it for the night. 

I bid him goodnight and began to head for the motel door. He stopped me with his words, insisting that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go sleep in a room by myself, the concussion reason enough for me to stay in there with him and Sam. I had hesitated, not wanting an argument, but also afraid of getting to used to the comfort that sharing a bed with him provided. We still hadn’t spoken about the first time it had happened, the way that we had woken up in the others arms. Once we had both woken up, we were quick to roll apart, making excuses for our unconscious behavior. 

The pleading look on Dean’s face was enough to convince me to stay that night. So for the second time, we climbed into the same bed. I faced the outside of the bed, my back to Dean’s. Yet this time, it didn’t last more than thirty seconds. He had immediately pulled me back against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. His chest pressed to my back, his chin cradled my the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. I couldn’t tell which one of us needed it more in that moment, his touch eased my pain. Little did I know, I eased his pain too. His was mental, mine was physical. We had both fallen asleep embracing the other, lulled into peaceful dreams by the other person. 

-

I can’t tell you when the third time turned to the fourth, the fourth to the fifth ,or the fifth to the sixth. It was a natural progression, as easy as breathing. A fresh breath of air on a foggy morning, easy and clear. Refreshing. The situations varied, but one thing never changed. Dean was always the one to initiate the physical contact. 

We no longer looked for multiple rooms at motels, the bed in the bunker that I had claimed began to go unused. Our need for the other person became so great that we could no longer ignore it. It was platonic, comforting and necessary for survival. The unknown ache that had settled over my should was slowly being eased. The need for another person, physical touch and emotional comfort had finally been fulfilled in a way that I never saw coming. If you had told me years ago when I stumbled upon the Winchester brothers that I would seek comfort in the eldest, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. However, now that I am here, shrouded in the safety that was Dean, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The darkness of the room normally would have been anxiety causing, the nightlight that remained plugged in to the outlet of my room in the bunker is no longer necessary. 

I no longer fear that monsters that might be lurking on the edge of the darkness, I no longer fear the darkness within my own head. All of these have been driven far away from my every thought, all of that due to the man who’s arms I am wrapped in at this very moment. It had changed from the inability to sleep when we shared a bed, due to anxiety over waking him up or the fear of letting him in, to the inability to sleep without him next to me. I craved his touch and that scared me more than I thought physically possible.

“Whatcha reading, Y/N?” Dean asks, his bare feet silent as he enters the room. I glance up from the book I was scanning, my eyes darting over the low hanging sweatpants adorning his hips, his bare chest and shoulders only covered by the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel before locking with his own. I hum, considering my next words carefully. While I had been sitting with this book for the last hour, I had not been reading. I had been thinking, over analyzing every time we had shared a bed or grown closer over the last few months. The emotional connection that I had with the green eyed Winchester standing in front of me, something I never could have predicted.  “I, Uh-couldn’t really tell you,” I laugh, snapping the book shut and setting it on the table next to me. “Was thinking more than reading I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and try to brush off the look that he is giving me. One eyebrow raised, his lip caught between his teeth in the way that I know means he is debating on whether to tease me or let it go. He chooses the latter, remaining silent, but sitting down next to me on the couch. He nods and hands me a beer, that he had already taken the cap off of. Another thing that he had started doing for me, without my asking. It was little things like this that had caused me to question exactly what was going on between us, the silent things that he had started doing for me. 

“What had you so lost in thought?” He asks, his hand pulling my legs across his lap. He rubs his fingers gently into the muscle of my calf, working out a knot that I didn’t know was there until his firm touch brushed against it. I shrug again, taking a sip of my beer in order to delay my response a bit longer. He had been so touchy recently, not that I minded. It was there, a need for physical affection, I had buried it long ago. Yet the second his body brushed my own, it was roaring like a lion. Needy and vocal, rearing to be released from the internal cage I had locked it in so long ago. 

“You.” I mutter, the word leaving my mouth before I can even think to stop it. A flush washes over my face, my cheeks turning red. I can feel deans eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I am paying close attention to a slight imperfection in the glass of the beer bottle. 

“What about me?” He asks, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I hesitate, wondering if I really want to vocalize my next thought. 

“About how you’ve been so affectionate recently, I don’t mind it at all. I love it. But it confuses me, we haven’t talked about it. And I just, it leaves me to wonder, you know?” I say, the last words leaving my mouth an almost silent whisper. 

“Wonder what, sweetheart?” He asks, his tone flirtatious and cocky. It’s only then that I look up and I’m greeted by a grin plastered across his lips. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying my hesitation and embarrassment. I smack his arm playfully, my eyebrows tugging together in a look that tells him to knock it off. 

“Okay, okay.” He says, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Wonder, what Y/N?” He asks again, his tone returning to seriousness. 

“What does this mean De?” I sigh, resting my head against my hand and staring back at him. He turns to face me, his hands resting on each of my thighs. I can see that he’s choosing his next words carefully which causes anxiety to bubble up within me. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone needs physical touch. It’s part of being human.” He says and my heart falls. The hope that had been building within me for something more with him quickly crumbles. 

“Or, if you wanted it to mean more than just friendly affection, that would be okay too.” My eyes snap back to his once more, confusion flashing over my features. He smiles softly at me, his eyes searching my own for an answer. My voice is lost to me, so I nod. The only response necessary to communicate how I felt at that moment. 

Even though we hadn’t labeled the things we both felt for the other, it was no longer a concern at that moment. Every embrace was enough to keep the other going. For now, being wrapped up in his arms and listening to his soft snores every night would be all that I need. Maybe one day that could change and we could delve deeper into the feelings that we shared. But for now, sharing a bed would be enough. 

tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

[lanadelnegan]

Ok ! Soulmate au for The one the only JDM

The hot and cold game you feel hot when you are close to them and clod when your car away from them so imagine the reader and JDM always feeling cold until one day when he is doing a convention/panel and for the first time ever he feels warm same with the reader she needs to stand up to ask him a question……and everything falls into place

Love at First Sight

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, assume Jeffrey is single, p in v, sexual tension, flirty texting with jdm, sex in his car, poorly written smut

"Are we pissing our pants yet?" I watch him walk out onto the stage with Lucille resting on his shoulder as he arrogantly chews his gum.

The sight of him in person lights my skin on fire and I feel like the walls around me could burst into flames.

I push my sleeves up a little, regretting my decision to wear a sweater even though it's the middle of December. I'm always cold, so I thought I'd play it safe and bundle up. Clearly that's not working out for me. I subtly wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close." His voice distracts me from my overthinking and I look up at him again. That signature "Jeffrey" smile stretches across his handsome face as women around me scream at the top of their lungs.

Should've worn earmuffs too, I might be deaf after this.

When he finally sits down, his eyes scan the crowd and I restrain myself from joining in with the screaming, keeping my cool and not wanting to draw attention to myself.. yet.

I study him closely for the next few minutes.. watching his body language and the way he fidgets with his hands on the table in front of him. The way his Adam's apple moves up and down when he gulps his water... The way he stares at the floor like he's on another planet when his costars are talking.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

All of a sudden, his eyes dart up, immediately colliding with mine. His expression doesn't change as he stares at me with unreadable hazel eyes.

When he realizes I'm not going to be the first one to look away, his serious face slowly turns into a knowing grin before he winks at me.

My face reddens and I subtly glance around to make sure he's looking at me and not someone else.

When I look back at him, he softly shakes his head before tipping it towards me. "You." He mouths silently.

My jaw drops faintly before I compose myself, bringing it back up into a smile before biting my bottom lip embarrassingly. My head drops, watching my sweaty hands fidget in my lap.

"Alright, next question." The host announces.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my hand. Another employee hands me a mic and I stand up nervously, locking eyes with Jeff again to find that he's watching me curiously. He's casually leaned back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach as he tilts his head at me with amusement.

I look down at my feet and try to breathe. "Um, my question is.. for.. Norman." I change my mind at the last minute, not having the nerve to ask Jeffrey what I had planned. My eyes roam up, finding Norman's. "What do you and Jeffrey like to do together when you hang out off set?"

Norman's smile widens as he looks to Jeffrey. "Should we tell her, man?" The crowd laughs at Norman's teasing before he looks back at me. "We make out." He says with a serious expression. Everyone laughs again before he answers my question seriously this time. "Nah, um.. we ride our bikes. Talk about hot chicks. Watch baseball." He pauses, still thinking.

"Then we make out." Jeffrey chimes in and the crowd bursts into laughter. He smiles proudly at himself as he stares at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Jeffrey asks, reverting my attention back to him.

"Y/n." I say into the mic.

"Y/n." He repeats. "Pretty name. Any more questions for us?"

Here it goes. "Um, yes. Actually, one for you."

He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. "Let's hear it."

I look around nervously and try to mentally prepare myself for the embarrassment I'm about to put myself through.

"Y/n, look at me." He demands and I turn my attention towards him again. "Just me and you right now. Ask me."

He stares at me like we're actually the only ones in the room and my legs grow weak.

"Um.. can I.. can I take you out?" I bite my lip and try not to cringe at myself, bracing myself for rejection. But, the worst thing he can do is say no.

Wrong - the worst thing he can do is humiliate you in front of a room of people and crush your hopes and dreams.

I try my best to push the thought out of my head as I wait for his answer.

"Wow, I love the confidence." He grins. "But, no, you can't take me out."

My heart drops and I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'll be the one taking you out." He clarifies and my heart drops again, this time with excitement. "Come here, sweetheart."

My eyes widen and I can't believe this is actually happening right now. I walk to the front of the stage and he meets me at the edge before smoothly hopping down.

Good god, he's even taller in person.

He smirks down at me, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to me with a dial screen pulled up.

My fingers shake as I type my number in and hand it back to him. He hugs me tightly as the crowd woos and screams.

"Don't be nervous. You are adorable." He whispers in my ear, sending chills throughout me before we both make our way to our seats.

Andy is in the middle of answering a question when my phone vibrates softly in my lap. I pick it up and see a text from an unsaved number. I click on it and my heart somersaults in my chest at the words on my screen.

Don't look at Andy. Look at me.

I look up and find Jeffrey smiling and gazing up at me through his eyebrows. My lips twist into a smirk before replying.

Maybe I'm a Rick girl.

I try not to laugh at myself as I look back up at him. He reads my text under the table before glaring at me teasingly, squinting his eyes. My phone vibrates again.

I could change that.

I silently giggle but when I don't respond, a few minutes go by before he sends me another.

Have we met somewhere before?

No. Why?

Feels like I know you from somewhere. Hmm. Maybe from your dreams. ;)

Oh you'll definitely be in my dreams now, doll.

My heart flutters and we spend the rest of the panel flirting and eye fucking each other from across the room. When the host announces that the time is up, my phone vibrates again.

Where are you staying? I'll pick you up at 8pm.

I smile giddily as I type out the address of the hotel I'm staying in. I drove two hours from home just to come ask that man a question, and holy shit was it worth it.

7:55pm...

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

I hyperventilate in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 5 minutes before I force myself to get it the fuck together.

This is what you wanted. I remind myself, taking a mini shot of alcohol to ease my nerves.

I smooth my silky blue dress down my body and apply some lip gloss before a my phone buzzes on the counter.

You ready, beautiful?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan thinks I’m beautiful.

My heart hammers in my chest as I grab my jacket and not-so-calmly rush to the elevator. I expect him to be waiting in his car for me out front, but when the elevator doors open, I’m stunned to see him standing in the lobby, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He looks up and grins from ear to ear when he sees me. My heels click against the floor as I make my way over to him, checking him out in the process. His dark grey slacks outline him perfectly and I restrain myself from staring too long, letting my eyes roam upwards towards the peppery chest hair peeking through his silky black button down. His sleeves are rolled up a few inches and his hair is perfectly gelled in place. He looks stunning.

When I finally approach him, he hands me the roses and I smile giddily.

“Wow, a true romantic.” I pretend to fake cry and he laughs, rolling his eyes. I think I even see see a little redness in his cheeks.

“These are lovely.” I thank him seriously now and he nods his head once before letting his eyes roam over me.

“You look.. absolutely incredible.”

I blush at his words as he holds his arm out for me to hold onto it. Such a gentleman. My arm slips into his as he leads me towards his black mustang parked right out front. He opens the door and I carefully slide in, shivering from the cold. The entire interior is a leather brick red and it smells like faint cigarettes and strong, expensive cologne.

When he gets in on the other side, he takes my roses and places them in the backseat before turning to face me. I take my jacket off and place it next to them, feeling warm all of a sudden.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at me playfully.

“Hi.” I giggle and my hands hide between my exposed legs. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash towards my thighs as I shift in the seat.

“You are so fucking cute." He reaches his hand out and laces his fingers through mine as we drive off.

"So.. where are we going?"

"Can't ruin the surprise, doll?"

I shrug. "I don't like surprises."

He glances at me with a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I think you'll like this one." His hand squeezes lightly around my thigh.

My legs barely part at the sensation and I look at Jeffrey, noticing the way his jaw ticks when he glances at my thighs.

"So why did you ask me out, sweetheart? Gotta admit, first time anyone's had the balls to do that."

"Why not? The worst you could've done is say no."

"And what if I had said no? Would you still like me?"

"....Probably not." I answer truthfully.

He snickers and I lay my head back on the seat, letting myself admire his beauty.

"It's rude to stare, ya know?" He teases.

"Yeah, I know." I blatantly continue staring.

"Keep eye fucking me and we won't make it to your surprise, doll."

I smile at that challenge, not taking my eyes off of him.

"What am I gonna do with you, y/n?" He shakes his head a little.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?" I tease him and confidently place my hand on top of his on my thigh, moving it closer towards my aching center.

I look at Jeffrey and see his eyes study the rearview mirror before slowly bringing the car to the side of the road and shutting off the engine.

"You want me so bad, huh? Come get it." Is all he says before we're both unbuckling and I'm climbing on top of him.

My lips connect with his the second I'm settled into his lap. Our desperate moans fill the car, mixing with the sounds of other cars driving by.

"I want you to know something first." He breathes into my mouth.

"Hm?" I ask, not taking my lips off his.

"I don't do stuff like this, y/n. But there's something special about you. Fuck, I.. I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"Maybe we were an old married couple in another life." I tease, bringing my lips down to his jawline, then his neck before sucking at his cologne-coated skin softly.

I reach for his pants and unbutton him, puling out his swollen cock and stroking it in my hand while hovering above him.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom." He announces.

"I'm clean.. I promise. Are you?" I don't care, I'm desperate to have him in me.

"Yes, I'll pull out... Put me inside you, baby."

I line him up with my entrance and slowly slide down his full length, moaning at the fullness. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grind on his cock.

"I wanna know more about you." He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

"Right now? What do you wanna know?" I ask in between my moans.

"Everything." He says seriously as I bounce on him, arms wrapped around his neck to steady myself.

"Uh, okay.. I love the color y/f/c. I like to read.. mmm, fuck." I moan, trying to concentrate and list the things about myself. "I can't cook to save my life."

"Keep going." He smiles looking up at me and the streetlights make his hazel eyes sparkle.

"My dog's name is y/d/n. I love music... My celebrity crush? Andy Lincoln." I tease, smiling widely while bringing my hands to rest on his knees, so I can angle myself better and ride him faster.

He smacks a hand to my ass. "Try again."

"...Jeffrey.." I moan and my head falls back when his thumb meets my clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "Dean… Morgan." I moan out on purpose before holding my head back up to look at him.

He chuckles. "Yeah? What do you like about him?"

"What's not to like?" I breathe out as I study his face. "His eyes. His hair. His beard." My gaze travels south. "His tattoos. His body."

"What else, baby?" His thumb rubs faster against my clit and my mouth gapes open.

"His attitude. His voice.... His.. his cock."

"Fuck, baby." He says and pushes his hand against my lower back, bringing me closer to him and pulling my dress down until my braless tits pop out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, making us both groan.

"Jeffrey.. I'm gonna -"

His head falls back against the seat, my nipple popping out of his mouth. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby."

We look into each other's eyes as I come undone, moaning his name loudly and pathetically.

"Fuuuck." He quickly lifts me up, pulling his cock from me and stroking it in his hand before his cum shoots all over my stomach.

And by stomach I mean dress. Fuck.

I laugh as we both come down from our high, looking at my cum stained dress and the puddle of my wetness on his pants.

"Guess you're coming back to my hotel, doll. Can't go anywhere like this."

I frown at him, pouting my lower lip out. "What was the surprise gonna be?"

He presses his smirking lips to mine and squeezes my ass. "Wouldn’t you love to know."

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

It’s Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Castiel

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: after an incident with a school bully, you’re hospitalized and end up with amnesia

It wasn’t that bad. You could handle it. You’d be gone in a few weeks anyway.

This was the mantra you repeated to yourself every morning as you stepped out of the Impala, waved goodbye to Dean, and entered the school.

You had to repeat it to yourself, because otherwise you’d give in and tell your big brothers everything, and let them take care of it.

You told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t do that this time; you shouldn’t need them to save you every time something went wrong. Besides, it was just a bunch of high school bullies. What was the worst they could do?

You were about to find out the answer to that question the hard way.

…

“I told you to hand it over!”

You looked around for a teacher, or any sort of help, but there was no one.

Three upper classmen had you cornered, and you knew you couldn’t take them all. But you’d also been raised by John, Dean, and Sam Winchester, so when the biggest one demanded that you hand over every dollar you had—which wasn’t that much to begin with—you couldn’t help but jut out your jaw and stare defiantly up at him.

“You deaf?” You cringed as he shoved you and the back of your head slammed against the locker.

“I heard you,” you shoved his hands away from you.

“And?” He stood there expectantly, proudly. You glared at him. He really thought he’d won this? You didn’t break so easily.

“And screw you.”

Not exactly the cleverest comeback, but anything to portray your contempt to this animal would do. It did the trick. Perhaps too well.

“What’d you say to me?”

That angry growl was the last thing you heard before you were slammed backwards into the lockers, and everything went dark.

…

“She’s waking up!”

A deep voice thrummed in your ears as you blinked your eyes open, the bright lights making you squint.

“Hey sweetie,” you looked up to see a blond man staring down at you, his green eyes scanning your face.

“Hi…” you glanced around the small room and saw another man, tall with brown hair, staring at you too. “Are you a doctor?” The men didn’t look like doctors, but you couldn’t think of another reason for them to be here.

“What?” The dark-haired man stepped closer to your bed, a frown contorting his features. “Y/N it’s us.”

“Yeah baby, it’s Dean,” the blond man insisted, and you stared at them blankly.

Y/N? Dean? The names floated around the edges of your brain, and you tried to grab hold of them. You knew those names, yet you didn’t.

“I don’t understand,” you finally admitted. “I-I mean…I don’t recognize you.”

The boys shared a meaningful glance, and the blond one—Dean—left, stopping outside your door to talk to a doctor.

“Honey, it’s…it’s Sam,” the dark haired man looked down at you. “You don’t recognize me?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Who are you?”

“I-“ Sam opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, then spoke. “I-I’m your big brother.”

“What about-“ you gestured to Dean.

“Yeah, him too,” Sam was staring at you incredulously. “You really don’t-“

“Hello,” the doctor stepped into the room, followed by Dean. “I’ve heard we have a bit of a problem in here.”

“I don’t remember,” your voice came out small. Everything felt so overwhelming; the bright lights, the heart monitor beeping, the two men—strangers—who seemed to know you.

“What don’t you remember?” The doctor asked gently. You thought about it.

“Anything.”

…

The doctor discharged you that night, since physically you were recovered, even if you still didn’t remember anything. He’d said that once the trauma wore off a bit, and your head recovered with some more rest, the memories should begin to resurface.

The boys weren’t so sure, and needless to say that terrified them.

“This is ours,” Sam gestured to the Impala when he noticed you glancing around the parking lot helplessly.

You nodded wordlessly and slid into the backseat while the boys got in the front.

After a minute, Dean spoke, directing his words to Sam.

“We should try for Cas. He can help her.”

“Um, Dean, maybe we should wait,” Sam glanced back nervously at you, and you frowned.

“Who’s Cas?”

“Our angel friend, he’s gonna help you remember.” Sam’s head jerked in Dean’s direction.

“Dean!”

“Your…I don’t understand.”

“Hey Cas!” Dean suddenly called out. “We need some help down here, it’s Y/N.”

Silence.

“What was supposed to happen?” You asked hesitantly. Was this guy insane?

“You’ll see when he decides to come,” Dean promised.

“Dean-“

“Ah, here we are,” Dean cut off Sam as he pulled the Impala into a motel parking lot.

“Where are we?” You directed your question to Sam as Dean stepped out of the car.

“A motel,” he answered awkwardly.

“Don’t we have a house?”

“Nope,” was Dean’s response as he opened your door, gesturing for you to get out.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam jumped in. “I’m sure you want to get some rest.”

“Is it my night?” Dean asked, referring to the arrangement the brothers had of switching who had to share a bed with you.

“I’m taking the couch,” Sam announced. “She can have the bed.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Can you fit on that thing?”

“Um…what’s this?” You asked as you lifted the gun that you’d seen sticking out from under your pillow.

“It’s yours,” Dean told you. “You keep it there for protection. Even though I’ve told you a million times that I’ve got one so you don’t need one,” he added this last part under his breath, but you still heard it.

“P-protection from what?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“Dean, can I talk to you alone?” Sam jumped in, not waiting for a response as he dragged Dean outside.

“What?” Dean asked.

“What? Are you insane?” Sam hissed.

“What are you talking about? The doctor said to treat her as we normally would, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’re terrifying her is what you’re doing! Dean she’s just a kid.”

“A kid? Dude, it’s Y/N.”

“Yeah, Y/N without any memories of monsters, or the family business, or-or why there’s a freaking gun under her pillow!”

“Look, she’s going to remember sooner or later, and then she’ll understand all of this, I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that she’s not herself right now, and we have no clue when she’s getting her memories back,” Sam insisted. “So we can’t just pretend like nothing is wrong! You can’t start talking to Cas, or any of the other things that are going to make her thing we’re insane.”

“She’s going to remember,” Dean’s voice had gone quieter, but no less resolved.

“Of course she is,” Sam amended, realization hitting him. “I’m not saying she won’t. But we need to be patient with her; if we scare her off, it’s going to be harder to get her to trust us. It’s going to be a million times harder for her to remember if she’s not comfortable around us.”

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Dean admitted. “I don’t know how to talk her her. I mean, it’s her, but it’s not her. I can’t talk to her like she’s some stranger.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam promised. “Just…just try to leave out the monsters. And the angels while you’re at it.”

“I’ll try,” Dean agreed reluctantly. “But Cas better come through soon, because we can’t keep this from her for long.”

“You called?”

Both boys’ heads swung in the direction of the angel’s voice.

“Hello Sam and Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I heard you needed help.”

…

Sam was surprised when he opened the motel door to see you in the midst of walking out. You were going so fast that you slammed into him, and he brought up his hands to steady you.

“Whoa, hey, where you going?” He asked, frowning when he noticed your eyes darting wildly around with panic. “Are you ok?”

Sam noticed Dean looking over your shoulder, and he did the same, inwardly groaning when he noticed the cause of your distress. You’d opened one of their duffels, and their array of weapons was splayed out on one of the beds.

“Hey,” Sam spoke softly, trying to bring down your terror. “I-I know that that looks freaky, but we-“

“This is insane!” You pulled out of his reach and attempted to run, but Dean grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the ground, carrying you back into the motel room.

“Cas, get in here,” he demanded, and Cas obeyed, looking more than a little confused.

“What’s going on?” He questioned. “I thought you said she needed help.”

“She hit her head,” Sam explained, “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“No wonder she’s terrified,” Castiel said. “You’re frightening to people who don’t know you.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Let go!” You made your presence known by kicking Dean hard in the leg, and he grunted but kept his hold on you.

“Alright, take it easy!” He held you at arms length, your back to the wall. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” You demanded. “Are you guys even my brothers?”

Dean’s body went rigid. He stared down at you, trying to push away the ache in his heart.

“Of course we are,” his voice had gone quiet, and desperation tinged his tone. “Of course we’re your brothers. Baby it’s Dean, you can trust me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice quavered, and he swallowed hard. “Cas, do it.”

“Who is that?” Your panic returned when Cas advanced on you, and you started to struggle in Dean’s arms. “Who is he? What is-what is he doing?”

“Just be still,” Dean said.

“Let me go! Cut it out!” Cas didn’t even flinch when you launched a kick at his shin.

“Baby we’re trying to help you, please just trust me.”

“I can’t trust you!” You yelled in response to Dean’s plea. “I don’t even know you!”

“Yes you do,” Dean’s green eyes overtook the whole of your vision when he leaned closer to you. “Somewhere in there, you know who we are. It’s me, it’s Dean. I know you’re scared, ok? I know you don’t understand. But just look at me, ok? It’s me, you can trust me.”

And you did. Impossibly, inexplicably, you looked into those dark green eyes and felt only safety, only comfort, even when he was currently holding you against a wall while a strange man in a trench coat approached you with his hand outstretched.

You didn’t fight it, allowing the man to place to fingers on your head, all the while keeping your gaze completely on those eyes.

The eyes of your big brother.

A soft glow came from the man’s fingers, and suddenly it felt as though a filter was being removed from your eyes.

You blinked. Those green eyes were still right there, but you saw them a little differently now.

“Dean?” You whispered.

A relieved smile broke out on his face.

“Hey baby.”

“Dean!” He staggered back a half-step when you threw yourself into his arms. Sam’s soft laughter could be heard behind him, and you pulled away from Dean to hug your other brother.

“It’s good to have you back,” he said, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“And you remember everything?” Cas asked, wanting to be sure it worked completely.

You grinned, “Everything.” As soon as you pulled away from Sam, Dean pulled you in for another embrace and you laughed. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up,” he said.

But he didn’t let go.

[alt0writings]

Only for you~

Lucifer x reader

fandom: supernatural

Note: in my stories "luce" is pronounced like "loose" just so you know :)

When I mentioned looking at his wings he tensed up his mind was running over all the situations. The only conclusion he could think of is I would leave him.

So he denied it, "don't you think we're kind of busy right now?" He says kind of harshly. I frowned "no your right we are busy" I laughed awkwardly.

Since lucifer wasn't showing his wings maybe I could ask michael for a description.

Michael wasn't keen on the idea of telling me, "come on michael tell me!" I begged. He still said no.

I sat down in a chair right next to sam and dean "hey boys, how's it going?"

They both looked stressed "not good we can't find this crucial piece of information." Sam groans and lays his head on his arms which were folded in front of him on the table.

I frown "can I help some how?" I looked over towards dean but he was shaking his head "nothing you can do kid" I sigh and nod.

Sam and dean had left to go hunt a werewolf that has been eating elderly people. I sat in a chair off to the side in the library so as not to disturb micheal and lucifer, it's the first time they had gotten along without wanting to rip each other's throats out.

I was reading my book, as I was nearing the end of a chapter I could hear whispers. I turned the page to act like I was reading when I was actually listening.

"Just show them!" Michael harshly whispered. I heard a growl and a forced bitter laugh "you know I can't do that." Everything was silent after that.

After a while dean and sam came back, "how did the hunt go?" They smiled and hugged me. "It went really well besides the fact we almost died" dean snorts. I shake my head and nod "I'm glad you both are back in one piece" they release me and back up, my face scrunches up "you smell like a wet dog. Go take a shower."

Once they agreed and started walking towards their rooms I took my leave and started walking towards my room.

I opened my door and almost jumped out of my skin, lucifer was sitting on my bed, and was sweating profusely He looked up and rolled his shoulders.

"I need your help" he stood up and pulled me into my room before shutting the door and putting an angel banishing sigil on it. "What are you doing?" I question, he sighs and gently places his hands on my shoulders. "You want to see my wings right?" He says while looking away he seemed.

Fearful.

I nod cautiously, he sighs and pulls his hands away before walking around me towards my bed. He pulls his shirt off, he had a surprisingly toned body he wasn't a bodybuilder and wasn't exactly fat. What was the word I am looking for? Oh right.

Dad Bod. He has a dad bod, he turns and walks towards me. From where he stood in front of me I could feel his breath fan against my face, a slight minty smell.

"Don't freak out." He quietly mumbled as he covered my eyes. A bright light flashed from behind his fingers, he pulled his hand away.

I gasp as I take in the beauty of his wings. There were 3 sets of 6, the biggest were the brightest.

pink mixing with blue while fading into black due to burn damage they looked to be torn. The set below that was a mix of pink and white with small black spots, it kind of looked like a sunrise it was also burnt but it also looked torn as well. His last set was the smallest yet was still bigger than your thigh. It looked to be the worst, half of it was gone but you could tell it was gold underneath all the dirt and grime.

"They need grooming, c-can you do that?" His request went on deaf ears, I was hypnotized by their beauty.

I blink repeatedly "what?" I shake my head slightly before looking up at his face. His cheeks had a pink hue to them, he groaned and released my shoulders "listen I need help cleaning them I don't wanna have to ask michael." He crosses his arms over his chest as if a defense.

I nod "of course I would be honored too luce. I can't believe you let me see your wings." I mumbled the last sentence, not trying to be rude or suggest I wouldn't be honored to do this again.

"Only for you~" he purred out as I ran my hands through his biggest set of wings.

Note: hope you enjoyed this I liked writing it lol

[nightxcreature]

My House

Authors note: Written in about an hour based on absolutely nothing except an idea i had while I washed dishes this morning. 🤷‍♀️ Edited poorly. As always, criticism welcome.

REQUESTS OPEN!

Warnings: Cursing, Slight Spice toward the end I've never written smut so..., Blood and guts that are not MC's own, Dean Winchester.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader, Claire x Mentor!Reader, Jody x Friend!Reader.

______________________________________________________________

It was coming up on a quarter past two in the morning when Claire pushed open the door to Jody's home quietly, trying her hardest to keep anyone from knowing that they'd finally made it back. At least until she could get inside, shower, and change clothes. Claire had made a brutal mistake back on the hunt and she had taken the fall for it, something that Claire was reminded of the entire ride back home. The woman's usual soft footsteps were wet across the carpet in the hallway while Claire led the way through the dark, praying to anyone who would listen that no one could hear it through their bedroom door.

"Move." She grunted out as she shoved passed Clair toward the kitchen, "I need a drink."

Claire's arm shot out wrapping around her wrist, "No. Not until you get all that blood off of you and into a change of clothes."

She rolled her eyes and pushed Claire off of her, "Do you think I give two shits about a change of clothes right now? You almost killed me, twice, my back and my ass are killing me, and I have vamp brains in places that vamp brains shouldn't be. I want a drink, I want a drink, I want a drink."

"Sam and Dean will kill me if they see you like this. Please, go shower first. I'll bring a drink to you if it's that important." Claire pleaded to deaf ears as the woman continued her trek through the dark toward the kitchen. With a sigh, Claire followed behind her almost jumping out of her skin when the kitchen light flipped on, and Dean and Jody were found sitting at the breakfast table.

"Where have you been? I called fifty times, and I know Jody left about as many messages." Dean angrily snapped.

"Why are you covered in blood?!" Jody exclaimed, "Are you hurt?"

A dry chuckle left her lips as she reached for a glass and the bottle of Jameson on Jody's fridge, "Not mine." Turning to place her items on the table and pour a glass, she faced Dean, "Who are you, Molly Weasley? Where have you been? Car gone, no note!"

Dean scowled, "Lose the attitude, I was worried about you."

"I'm your girlfriend, not your daughter." She said after taking a long swig from her glass, "Besides, you and I've been doing this the same amount of time. It's not my first vamp nest, and it won't be my last. And after the way this hunt went, Claire needs the practice if she's going to keep doing this."

"What happened?" Jody questions, eyes narrowing in Claire's direction.

She turned in Claire's direction, crossing her arms, "You want to answer, or should I?"

"Uh..." The teenager started, cut off before she could even begin.

"Don't worry, I'll do it." The small woman turned back to her whiskey taking another long drink before beginning again, "This little brat decided to head out on her own after we went to bed last night. She was adamant that we should hit the nest then, even though I reminded her a million times that we needed to wait until we were sure there weren't others hiding out in there."

"I was sure!" Claire butt in, "I told her that I knew what I was doing!"

"And did you? Huh? Do I look like you knew what you were doing?!" She yelled, gesturing to the blood on her clothes, "I'm covered in blood that isn't mine and I lost my socks. How did I lose my socks Claire? I sure as hell don't know. What I do know is, if I hadn't shown up to save your ass you would be a blood smoothie by now. You're welcome!"

Claire looked at her feet, "I just wanted to do it on my own."

"You're not ready. There's nothing wrong with taking advice and help when it's offered, especially with a nest that size. If a more experienced hunter offers their help, you take it. I was just like you when I was a kid, and it almost cost me everything." The venom in her voice had started to dwindle as the whiskey took the edge away from the pain in her muscles, "You're strong, Kid, but you don't know everything."

Jody sighed from behind them, standing to put an arm on Claire's shoulder, "I've been trying to tell her that. She just doesn't like to listen to me."

With a roll of her eyes, Claire sent a small smile in her direction, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."

"You shouldn't be here; you should be in bed." Jody sent back, grinning at the woman on the other end of the table, "Thank you for taking care of my girl. I'd hug you, but..." She gestured toward the mess covering the woman and grimaced, "I really would take a shower soon if I were you."

She and Claire headed down the hallway giggling quietly, making the woman smile and sigh looking back at the bottle of liquor. The silence taking over the room and leading her hand to pour another, until Dean reached out to cover the glass.

"I don't think you need another; you've had enough for tonight." Dean said, standing to put the whiskey back on the fridge and place her glass in the sink, "But I do think you should tell me how those bloody handprints got on your ass..." He quirked a brow as he turned back to face her, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

She snapped her head around trying to get a look at the back of her pants, "Seriously? That big bitch tried to break me in half after I killed Edward, Bella, and the Lochness Monsters he was creating. I didn't know he left a mark on my ass, didn't even know he had blood on his hands. Claire took his head off before he could hurt me, that's where most of the blood came from. Pretty sure he wanted to add me to his little coven, I'd make a real pretty vampire bride. At least that's what he told me." She winked and giggled as Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

"And what did you say?" He quizzed, his gaze feeling like it could see straight through her.

"That I'm already spoken for," She smirked, "And then I kicked his ass."

"That's my girl." Dean stood from the table a shit-eating grin on his face as he bent to whisper in her ear, "What do you say we go get you cleaned up, and then I try to break you in half?"

"I'd like that a lot." She whispered, reaching to capture his lips with her own. Dean deepened the kiss, placing one hand on her hip and another in her hair as he led her toward the door. Their tongues danced together, and Dean slowly pushed her into the wall nipping at her bottom lip. His hands had just made their way down to cup her ass, palms matching the prints already on her pants, when a cough suddenly came from the doorway. Jumping apart, they looked everywhere except at Jody, who stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"Not in my house."

"Yep. Just gonna go...uh, clean up." She whispered back awkwardly stepping around Jody as she headed toward the bathroom, a sheepish grin on her lips, "Sorry."

"I, uh, I'm gonna go help." Dean followed her out as Jody flipped the light off in the kitchen.

"Not in my house, Dean Winchester!" She called quietly on the way to her own room.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Jody!" He whispered back, a grin gracing his face as he slipped into the bathroom with his favorite girl.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: I still feel like I'm dusting the rust off my brain with these little one shots, but i dont think they're turning out too bad. I'm going to start potentially working on a series soon, so we'll see how that goes.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my work!

Tag List:

@lmhf1

[possibly-in-wonderland]

some modern girl falls into middle earth concepts (the hobbit & lotr)

reader has a gold tooth or two, obvs the company is interested but what happens when thorin gets that gold sickness lmfao

reader has hella tattoos/piercings/body mods (tatted eyeballs, pointed ears, split tongue, fangs, etc) and explains the process to the company (maybe dwalin gets the hots). this is, of course, after the company finds out reader is in fact human and not some odd race they've never heard of

black or native american reader (bc u know how dwarves & elves are with hair)

reader who speaks norwegian and has studied norwegian history (bc why not) and likes to draw comparisons between scandinavian culture and dwarven culture (idk why lmao)

italian reader (bc food)

reader with dai yueqin-length hair (aka if its not up its a tripping hazard to everyone)

reader who's a part of the sca

deaf!reader (maybe bifur's sign language is similar to asl and they end up becoming friends)

blind!reader (reader likes touching faces, im just imagining reader touching one of the dwarves' faces and being like "oh wow ur very handsome", maybe reader likes bigger noses, bigger ears, longer hair, and beards bc they feel interesting as opposed to a clean-shaven face and smaller features)

reader with a beard fetish (*everyone looks at nori and his glorious beard*)

stoner reader who, after falling into middle earth, found themselves constantly stoned stupid due to eating a brownie before the fall (and by some weird magical thing, their body is now "glitched").

alternatively, stoner reader who had seeds on them before they fell.

metalhead reader (specifically eddie munson-style...so thrasher obsessed with dnd).

crackfic idea: introducing the dwarves to diggy hole (lmao)

reader, who's obsessed with stories, tells the company a different story from their home world each night (like a story about a young viking managing to train the most ferocious dragon (how to train your dragon)). later, reader ends up retelling snow white and the seven dwarves.

some sort of bl2 x hobbit crossover (reader's a siren but not from the borderlands universe, and in this case their magic is more like pony magic from mlp friendship is magic or bonnies magic from vampire diaries). they dont get any markings or anything until they "leech" the gold sickness from thorin (which, in turn, affects the reader by making their powers more awesome). obvs there's some limitations (they lose the ability to fully control their limbs and are pretty much wheelchair-bound for a few months). reader is pretty much a demigod (probably just as powerful if not maybe a little less powerful than gandalf).

reader fell into middle earth a couple thousand years ago but due to some weird aging thing and middle earth time working differently than modern earth time they age differently. they've become some minor witch or wizard.

reader "scent marks/chins" to show love (like a rabbit)

reader whos part of modern royalty from our world (and enjoys middle earth more than anything bc they don't have to be "propper" all the time, maybe their more of a princess diana royal)

speaking of princess diana: reader gushes over princess diana

post botfa: fem!reader flirts with dis (lol)

reader pretends to by psychic (like in psych) but in reality they've read every book part of the lotr/hobbit universe and know everything (maybe they understand some of their languages as well, not enough to be fluent but enough to pick out certain words)

reader grew up DEEP in the mountains of west virginia (and likes to sing country roads at random points, though they change some of the lyrics bc they don't have the crayons nor willpower to explain a radio)

reader knows "big bad john" and "the cajun queen" by jimmy dean by heart

reader quietly singing jolene after the events of mirkwood

reader lives life by the kenny rogers song "the gambler"

most of the songs the reader knows are either by dolly parton or kenny rogers (or any other artist similar like reba)

reader casually talks about the horrors of our world like its the most normal thing (ww2, systematic racism, the truth of thanksgiving, climate change, 2020, the patriarchy and how they treat women, etc)...everyone looks horrified

reader writes hozier-style songs

reader is the biggest fucking flirt (but by that, i mean they'll flirt with trees...not just ents, no, trees...and rocks)

reader, a seemingly innocent-looking woman, was a deathmetal vocalist in our world

reader has a thing for watching blacksmiths and metalsmiths (i used to like watching forged in fire until i realized they were a bunch of sexists)

reader has the deepest southern accent-

reader is a little insecure only to find out that everything society deems gross and unsightly in our world is hella attractive to dwarves (body hair, extra weight, etc)

reader has abandonment issues and is terrified the company or fellowship are gonna abandon them at any point

reader introduces the company/fellowship to truth or dare, reader get's dared to tell the group their biggest secret, they pull out their childhood stuffed animal from their bag and introduce the group to said stuffed animal. reader thinks the group will laugh at them. the fellowship finds it endearing. the company also finds it endearing (esp dori, bifur, and bofur).

reader goes on a tangent about frontal lobes for a solid 15 minutes straight with no stopping bc of that one hyperfixation they had a few years back.

reader with chronic pain. they never talk about it but something goes wrong, reader and (we'll say dwalin) switch bodies. the pain is so bad dwalin is keeling over and after they get switched back everyone has a little more respect for reader than before. ("what do you mean tHIS IS NORMAL EVERYDAY PAIN? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THIS FLARES UP AND GETS WORSE??? THIS ISNT EVEN THE WORST OF IT???" reader shrugs "eh u get used to it after living with it for ur entire life")

reader doesn't like wearing shoes, but has feet as strong as a hobbits so its fine

everyone's explaining what folktale they tell children in different cultures when asked where babies come from. the dwarves talk about being born of rocks, hobbits talk about being born in gardens, the human reader tells the story of the stork

idk i kinda wanna mix some of these together

[artyslore]

𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞…

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: I WANNA BE YOURS BY ARCTIC MONKEYS

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃, who loved having a special language with you that no one else could understand. Not that he was happy about you being deaf, but it made you optimistic like him, happy like him, always signing to him with a cute smile that gave him butterflies— god, he was so gone for you. So very gone.

He sat in front of you, looking excited as hell, and just like a radar, you picked up on it and became jittery like him too. He loved that too, how you mirrored his own expression or body language in a second. “There’s a new five hour Russian movie showing.” He signed with a grin— he wasn’t being inconsiderate about you being deaf, you were an incredible lip reader, having been reading them like 200,000 words books your whole life. “Do you wanna go?”

“As if I wouldn’t,” you signed back, making his eyes light up in barely concealed excitement— you found it adorable, how he’d perk up the moment someone entertained his interests, but you loved the little quirks that made Spencer… Spencer.

Oh, who were you kidding? You had a massive crush on him.

“Great! So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow, six-ish?” The signed sentence nearly made you swoon, as Spencer would be picking you up from your house, and in that time he’d scurried off with a red face to where Derek and Hotch were.

“Well, would’ya look at that.” Derek grinned, arms folded over his chest. “Pretty. Boy. You scored a date with the other resident BAU baby, my man.” Hotch — as usual — looked stoic, but the corner of his mouth looked slightly upturned. Rossi looked on from his place talking to JJ interestedly, damn, the kid’s got game.

Spencer shook his head, flushing even more. “No! It’s— no, it’s not a date. It’s friendly, that’s all.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, six-ish.” He quoted with a smirk and tilt of his head, feeling like Professor X, but hotter. “Sorry, my dude, that’s a date. Look, play it cool, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

Hotch waited for Derek to get bored with the teasing and step away to talk to Emily, then lightly tapped Spencer’s arm and spoke in his ear with an amused, proud smile. Why hadn’t either of you seen it sooner? “Personally, I don’t think you need to do anything to win her over.”

Spencer’s eyes darted to where you were rapidly scribbling down the details of the date for Rossi and JJ with a giggle spilling from your lips and an excited flush on your cheeks. Maybe Hotch was right after all, huh?

He was. You felt like you could twirl your hair and kick your feet about now.

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jackles010378

[aylacavebear]

The Curse That Changed Your Life - Part 1 Chapter 2

You were just a regular, ordinary woman in your twenties working at the Gas N’ Sip. Life was simple and boring, and you liked it that way. It wasn’t until some strange woman came to your store, mumbled some Latin under her breath, that everything changed. So, you did the only thing you could think of with your new appearance, became a dancer at a club far from the town you grew up in. But what will you do when the green-eyed FBI agent starts asking questions?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2815

Warnings: Angst, Slow-Burn, Death, Dashed Hopes - severe depression, Spell Ingredients, Charlie being nosy (yes, this is a warning).

A/N: This one played through my mind while listening to Cherry Pie one day on my way to work.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

That first month at the bunker was interesting, to say the least. Dean had done his best to keep his comments to himself and only ogle you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. That hadn’t lasted long. 

It had happened the first day and only an hour after you’d been awake. He’d opened his mouth and said something, but before he could even realize what he’d said, you’d made it to the other side of the table and slapped him. All you remembered at this point was that it had something to do with your ass and the way it looked in your shorts. Sam was dying of laughter before you’d left the kitchen to enjoy your coffee in the library.

The bunker, on the other hand, was fascinating. It was massive and held tons of information on the things that went bump in the night. The facilities alone had your jaw on the floor. 

You also couldn’t count how many times Sam apologized for his brother’s behavior. You shrugged it off, though, explaining you wouldn’t tolerate it and Dean would eventually stop. Sam attempted to explain how stubborn his brother was, but you simply told him that he could exercise some manners.

Near the end of the first week, you met Eileen. She was sweet and kind, which you were thankful for. However, you were surprised to learn she was deaf and wished you knew sign language. She had decided to stay at the bunker while trying to figure out this witch business.

Charlie was energetic. It was the only way you could describe her when she showed up. She said something about having to see you with her own eyes, which was when you learned she was into games and things like LARPing. She showed up a couple of days later.

She bombarded you with questions, most of which you didn’t mind answering. It was the other ones that she had gotten persistent with that you just said no to without giving her a real reason. So, after almost three weeks, she was getting a little whiny about it as the five of you sat around the tables in the library, pouring through books.

“Please. I’ll be gentle,” Charlie begged you again to touch your tail.

“Charlie, I’d rather you didn’t, and let's leave it at that,” you replied with your nose still stuck in the book in front of you.

“How come?” she pouted.

You sighed, “It’s… personal, okay.”

“Pleeeaassseeee,” she whined, making you groan.

They’d been back from a supply run for about four hours now, and you were pretty sure you’d have to give her something more than just a ‘no’ to her incessant begging.

Without even looking up from your book, you answered her flatly, “I’m not into girls, and it’s rather sensitive.”

“Oh,” Charlie replied, somewhat surprised. Then she got curious again, “Are your ears like that too?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Yes. Now, can we drop the topic?”

Dean was thankful that you were more focused on the book and not him. It had been ridiculously hard not to make remarks about your looks, let alone keep his expression from giving away what he was thinking about. Now, he was beyond curious and even more interested in you, in a far more physical way than you wanted to have with him.

“Yeah,” Charlie began, and just as she was about to go back to her book, she looked back over at you. “Wait. Do you go into heat like a cat, too?”

“How the hell do you get away with asking her that, but I can’t?” Dean complained loudly.

You’d had enough at that point. You understood they were curious just how cat-like you were, but that one had hit your last nerve. Without a word, you grabbed your book, the mostly full bottle of whiskey, and went to your room, slamming the door behind you.

“What’d I say?” Charlie asked, fairly confused.

“Pretty sure she doesn’t want to discuss her personal stuff with anyone, Charlie,” Sam chuckled, his nose still stuck in his book. He’d stayed out of the conversation, as had Eileen.

“But, why’d she have to take my whiskey?” Dean pouted, looking at his mostly empty glass now, making Sam laugh at him, again.

None of them had an answer for him, and you weren’t about to go back out there to tell him you needed something to drown out your thoughts and the overwhelming emotions. You slipped the pieces of cotton in your ears before getting comfortable on your bed with the book.

As you read, you sipped the whiskey. It was yet another book on witches and spells. You weren’t even sure how many you’d read through in the last almost five days. Mostly, you glazed over the ingredients of spells but paid attention to the important details.

An hour later, though, you were now sitting up, reading the same spell for the fifth time, and your heart was pounding in your chest. It was a spell to summon the witch that had cursed you. It was the witch’s love of sweets that you instantly recognized within the wording. You realized the main reason you had to help the brothers in this regard: the spell itself called for your blood and some hair of your feline features. The problem was that there was a high likelihood you’d be stuck like you were, and that was because of how far the physical changes had gone. 

Great!

You slammed the book shut and just sat there thinking about your predicament. Within minutes, though, your conscience got the better of you. Opening the book back up to the spell, you returned to the library.

“Here, Sam. I found the spell, and yes, you can use my blood,” you grumbled, plopping the book down on the table in front of him.

All of them jumped a little, their eyes on Sam, you, and the book that Sam was now reading. He only glanced at you briefly, and you knew he’d read about the warning.

“Hey, can I have my whiskey back?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, going back to your room.

More than half the bottle was gone at this point, and you took one more swig before you returned to the library and set it in front of him.

“Sorry about drinking so much. I’ll pay for more,” you told him somberly before returning to your room.

So much for ever being normal again.

The thought was depressing. You hadn’t wanted to hope, but it had gotten the better of you, and now, you were somewhat depressed. Your entire body felt heavy as you climbed into bed, not even bothering to change your clothes and turned off the light.

Back in the Library…

“You gonna share, Sam?” Dean asked, still looking toward the hallway where you’d gone.

“Well, the good news is we can summon the witch. The bad news,” he sighed, “She might be stuck that way.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eileen asked.

“Not unless we involve Rowena, and even that could be risky according to this,” Sam explained, “Even if we kill this witch, it might not break the curse.”

“I thought that was how all curses were broken, by killing the witch,” Charlie questioned, now confused.

“If her body was changed too much—more like a cat than a human—killing the witch wouldn’t turn her back. Then there’s the other problem. Trying to break that curse could kill her,” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“So, she’s stuck like that?” Eileen asked.

“Probably,” Sam sighed, glancing toward the hallway. He probably felt the worst for the situation you had ended up in.

Dean didn’t make a single comment or snarky remark. He actually felt bad, too. It was sort of fun to tease you a bit about your cat features, but now, he really did feel bad. He had found you utterly attractive from the missing person’s reports. Then, seeing you with cat ears and a tail, he could barely think straight.

Now, though, after spending a month with you and getting to know you a little more, his interest had gone further than your looks. He still somehow wanted to help you, even if you couldn’t be normal again. 

“So, we gonna summon this bitch tonight or tomorrow?” Charlie asked, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Probably tomorrow. We should all get some rest,” Sam replied.

The following day…

You may have woken early, but you stayed curled in bed.

Why did I have to get my hopes up?

The room was dark, but seeing in shades of grey kept it from ever looking like the blackness you remembered the dark looking like. The cotton was still in your ears. You’d discovered that trick a week after you’d changed, thankful it made things sound normal again.

Grabbing your phone off the night table, you glanced at the date and rolled your eyes, knowing that your monthly cycle would hit you in a day or two. It was mostly like you’d had when you were human, but since you’d changed, so had it. 

You groaned, turning off your phone and putting your face in your pillow, not wanting to get out of bed. 

It’s gonna be a long week.

Perhaps you fell back asleep or just zoned out, but you weren’t quite sure. A knock on your door pulled your attention to it sometime later.

“Come in,” you mumbled loud enough for whoever it was to hear you.

Someone gingerly opened it and stepped partway inside, holding the door halfway open, “Did you want some coffee? Or, are you gonna sleep the day away?”

It was Sam, and you sighed silently, “Coffee,” you mumbled.

He came over and sat on the side of the bed, “I’m sorry about all this. We’re going to keep looking for a way to try to change you back, okay?” 

“It’s okay,” you replied somberly, rolling over to look at him.

Sam noticed how low your ears were drooping. After hours of research on cats, he learned that your ears and tail always revealed precisely how you were feeling. He had no clue how to ease the sadness you were going through, though.

“Come on. There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Sam said, giving you one of those compassionate smiles that made you smile, even if just a little.

“All right. Lemme change, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you replied.

He left you to change, and then you headed into the kitchen. It was past nine already, and all of them were awake. Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t get your ears to stop drooping or your tail to show anything other than the defeat you’d found yourself in.

After grabbing a cup of coffee, you joined the four of them in the library, making sure not to step on the symbol they’d drawn on the floor. One of the library tables had what looked like an altar with a bowl, ingredients, and candles, but you barely glanced at it. 

“You want to drink that first or summon this bitch and watch her burn?” Charlie asked, trying to help you feel better.

All you did was shrug your shoulders. You stood next to Sam and looked down into the bowl before you looked up at him and held out one of your hands. 

“If you’d rather do it-” Sam began, but you cut him off.

“Just, do it, and let's get this over with,” you told him.

He sighed, “How about you cut the hair from your tail? Then I’ll do the cut on your hand if you’d like.”

You gave him a small smile before taking the blade, cutting some of the hair from your tail, and placing it in the bowl. But when it came time to cut your hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and handed Sam back the knife and looked away when he made the cut. That hurt like hell, and you hissed the moment it pierced your skin.

Balling your hand into a fist, you turned it sideways, letting the blood drain down and into the bowl, mixing with the other ingredients. Then, Dean came close and wrapped your hand in a handkerchief. 

There was something gentle about his touch and the softness in his expression, even though he never looked directly at you. His focus was on your hand and securing the handkerchief securely without hurting you.

You stood back, your gaze on the symbol on the floor, while the other four stood near each other. Sam spoke the spell in Latin. After that, he tossed a lit match into the bowl as orange smoke swirled up and through the air.

For a moment, you blinked blankly at the woman who appeared inside the symbol. She resembled the woman you saw a year and a half ago, but there were so many differences. The biggest one was that she looked far younger than she had.

“Oh, there’s the kitten I lost,” she cooed, looking over at you, and her smile again creeped you out. When her eyes met the four others, she quickly frowned, “Winchesters.”

“Turn her back,” Dean growled, and it surprised you that those were his first words to her.

The witch's expression went to utter amusement, “Can’t. Sorry. She’s stuck that way. I’m just surprised the spell didn’t fully take.”

“What? Was she supposed to turn into an actual cat?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Quite interesting,” the witch mused, now standing as close to the edge of the symbol as possible, looking you over. “I need to find out why the spell didn’t work, and how to fix it so you do turn into a cat. I need a loyal familiar.”

You felt sick, and her words made your skin crawl. With as close as she was, Eileen slapped a pair of cuffs on her. They’d explained that the cuffs would keep her from using any sort of magic, and it was for all of their safety.

“You’re going to undo the spell. Turn her back into a human,” Dean growled again, and you couldn’t quite figure out why he seemed so adamant all of a sudden. His tone almost felt more than just trying to help someone.

The witch just rolled her eyes, “I told you. The spell can’t be reversed. All I can do is make it so that she turns the rest of the way into a cat, and my loyal familiar. So, take these off, and I can get started.”

“Then we don’t need to keep you alive,” Eileen told her, crossing her arms.

For the moment, all you could do was stand there, lost in your thoughts at the witch’s revelation. You had enough trouble having the features and qualities of a cat that you did. You had no desire to be an actual cat, let alone the witch’s familiar. 

You didn’t hear any of the rest of the conversation between the five of them and, at this point, had backed up to one of the chairs, sitting down. With your mind racing with thoughts and too many emotions coursing through your body, it was the gunshot that made you jump. 

Looking up in just enough time to see the witch’s body hit the floor as the light faded from her eyes. Dean crouched in front of you while the others began cleaning up. He was attempting to talk to you, but you didn’t hear him. When he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, you finally refocused on reality and looked down at him, still in a state of shock.

“You with me, Sweetheart?” he asked, slightly loudly, making sure he had your attention. You nodded, as making words wasn’t working at the moment. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t turn you back. We’ll keep looking until we can find a way.”

The sadness and despair hit you like a ton of bricks, your gaze going to your hands in your lap and away from Dean. You sniffled quietly as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Even when Dean put his hand over yours, you couldn’t look at him.

He sighed heavily, stood, kissed the top of your head, and then began helping the others with clean up. You weren’t sure how long you had sat there before you finally made your way to your room, fell into your bed, and cried yourself to sleep. You also didn’t care about much at the moment.

You’d hoped there would have been a way you could be human again and have a normal life. That hope had grown over the last month, and now, your world felt like it fell in on itself, and some darkness was going to swallow you whole. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3

Series Master List Part 1 Master List Part 2 Master List Past 3 Master List Main Master List

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know in a comment.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @zaratahir @jc-winchester @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @kindollss

[soulofapatrick]

Starstruck - Pedro Pascal x reader/OC

Summary: Y//N plays Eleanor Winchester in Supernatural and is on the red carpet for season 13 where she spots her heartthrob: Pedro Pascal. 

SORT OF LINKS TO Terrible at Secrets

Words: 1.3K 

Warnings: anxiety (?)

Notes: request by @princessmermaid1289​ and photos of dress and hair at the bottom. 

Y/N’s POV:

Being part of such a big show like Supernatural is always breathtaking, especially getting to meet all the other big stars and my fans. I never expected to have such an impact or make a family with J2M. Jared and Jensen immediately took me under their wings when I joined in season seven as Sam and Dean’s little sister - Eleanor aka. Nell

Being anxious and an actor is always something interesting but I have such an amazing family backing me and getting rid of any awkward questions aimed my way during conventions. I love conventions and red carpets, being able to meet my own idols of which I have plenty. I find it so much fun talking to them and getting the fans opinions on everything. My fans are my biggest critics and they’re how I improve. 

Tonights a red carpet for our season 13 with Alexander Calvert. He’s very cute and bubbly and I love him like a little brother and the fans seem to love him even more. He’s going to be big, I just know it, especially when the fans scream at him wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me as the cameras flash.

“Heyyy Y/N,” Jensen appears at my other side, elbowing me and leans down enough he can whisper quiet enough the cameras and paparazzi don’t catch it, “Your man crush is over there, go say hi.” 

I follow his gaze to see the one and only Pedro Pascal. He guest starred in an episode but sadly I never got to see or meet him as it wasn’t with me. My character was off with Kelly and Castiel while Pedro was with Jensen and Jared and I will admit it broke my heart a little as I have always had a huge crush on the sweetheart. He looks drop dead in that crisp white suit and black bowtie. His hair is so fluffy and I just wanna run my hands through it from here. 

“Go!” Alex is agreeing and I’m being pushed in Pedro’s direction so lightly jog over, trying not to trip over my dress. It’s a beautiful thing, not my personal choice but I have to admit it looks beautiful and it makes me feel beautiful when I’m quite a rough and tough person having been around J2M for pretty much eight years. It’s black and flows, making me feel like a character from a fairytale, the sleeves off the shoulder and it sparkles in the flash of the cameras. I think it’s made from a mixture of satin and lace with how light it is despite how heavy and full it looks. It seems my stylist was going for a vintage look as my strawberry blonde hair is pinned back in light curls, it reminds me a longer version of Susan Pevensie’s hair from the last movie where Lucy becomes Susan. I feel beautiful. 

“Hi,” I place a trembling hand on Pedro’s shoulder, causing him to turn to see me. His face breaks into that contagious grin as he looks me up and down with no abash. It has me flushing a bright red, especially when he makes room for me, wrapping a large hand around my waist. 

“Hi there mama,” Pedro’s voice is like velvet and has me weak at the knees. He’s pulling me flush against the side and begin to pose for the paparazzi again, a huge grin on his face so I compose myself and do the same, putting my arm around his back. He’s a lot taller than I realise so it’s easy for me to rest my head on his shoulder and I think I’m going to go deaf at the sound that erupts from the fans as Pedro glances down at me with a look that makes me balling his jacket in the hand that’s around his back. He lips are suddenly near my ear as he whispers “Easy darlin,” while his thumb rubs soothingly at my hip. 

We have move on so Jared and Gen can take our stops and I prepare to go back to Alex as Misha has Vicki and Jensen has Danneel but Pedro grasps my hand in his calloused one. I stumble slightly but he steadies me and my mind races because this is going to be big news and everyone is going to realise I have the biggest crush on Pedro Pascal… who is leading me to the next photo spot. 

The cameras continue to blind me and I have to grip Pedro’s hand tighter as I can feel my anxiety bubbling. I usually try to do the red carpets quickly and usually Jensen; Jared and Misha there to ground me. This beautiful man beside seems to understand what’s happening and is sending one last wave at the cameras before he’s leading me towards the Entertainment Weekly interviewer. 

“Hello there mommy and daddy,” She greets us and feel myself flush again as this never happens to me. I can’t remember her name as I was meant to only talk to a tiktoker turning interviewer as I’m not as big as my on screen brothers. 

“Hey there,” Pedro sends her an amusing smile, keeping a tight grip on my waist. 

“Well this is a nice surprise, I’m a little star stuck right now,” The interviewer turns her attention to me, “I have to admit I’m a huge fan of you and your character, Eleanor Winchester for those who don’t know.” She glances back at the camera and I’m subconsciously grabbing Pedro’s free hand, hoping the camera doesn’t pick up on. 

“Oh! Well, thank you.” I’m laughing nervously, “I’m also star stuck!”

“You’re the star here,” Pedro nudges me and I can just hear all the fan edits about to be spamming my social media feeds in the morning but I don’t care because I’m currently pressed against the Pedro Pascal and he’s acting like I’m the big star, not him. Somehow I feel like royalty, even when the interviewer gets on with her planned interview with Pedro and I’ve never felt like this. I just alternate between watching the way Pedro throws his head back in a hearty laugh every time the interview flirts with me and the way the cameras are flashing blindingly. I should be panicked and breathless right now but that hand on my hip is flexing every so often and somehow it keeps me grounded and this is probably the first red carpet I’ve been able to breathe.

“Well, here’s the question I think most will be asking in the morning, is there something here?” The interviewer is asking, her question making my head snapping round so fast I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash, watching Pedro to see what he says as I try to slow my breathing. 

“I wouldn’t mind having a date with miss Y/N here but we’ll have to see.” He’s sending her wink then pulling me even closer to him and I just look at the camera and fake swoon, laughing lightly in shock. 

“I think I’m hallucinating,” I tell her and it causing everyone in earshot to break into laughter as Pedro presses a kiss to my cheek, the light drag of his beard taking the air from my lungs, “Definitely hallucinating.” 

“She says yes,” Jared’s towering frame appears behind us both, patting Pedro on the shoulders, “Of course she wants to go on a date with Pedro.” 

“A date it is it seems.” Pedro’s grin seems to get wider and I’m not really sure what’s happening right now. I might have a date with the Pedro Pascal and my two older brother figures may have set me up it seems, especially from the way Jared and Jensen high five as they walk away and the way Gen sends me a wink. 

Oh my fucking god. I’m going on a date with Pedro Pascal. 

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in a Quiet Afternoon

Summary - Part 53 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess, Sam x Eileen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

When you, Dean and Destiny get back to the bunker, Sam is busy in the kitchen cooking a fancy meal to impress this mystery huntress he’s planning a future with. You get anxious when you see all the vegetables, salad and lean meat. You know neither your husband nor your adopted daughter will eat any of that. Truthfully, it’s not your favourite either, but you’d eat it to impress Sam’s girlfriend. From the doorway you ask, “Is this for a romantic dinner for two?”

“Huh?” Sam says, flustered. He flicks his attention between you and the salad he’s currently tossing.

You step into the room and lean against a clear part of the bench. “Dean told me about Eileen and your plan. I think it sounds great and I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She’s great. We’re just taking it slow. I went on a solo hunt a while ago and found her there. She was already on the job, hunting the thing that killed her family; a banshee. It also left her deaf. But she’s so strong, independent and badass, much like yourself.”

“Sam…”

“I know. You only have eyes for Dean. I get it. That’s why I knew I had to move on. Then I met her. It’s not about the similarities, it’s just she knows what it’s like. She gets the life too and the toll. And I’m glad you and Dean are moving on to a better life, but I’m not sure I can just yet, and she’s only just got her revenge and is still finding her footing after that. So I don’t know what our chances are, but I just want to see where it goes. I fell hard and fast for Jess and Amelia, I don’t want to do that again.”

“We rarely get to choose who we fall for, Sam. If she’s the one, you’ll know.”

“I hope so.”

You nod towards the salad that is well and truly tossed now. “So, you know Dean and Destiny won’t touch that, or anything you’ve cooked for that matter.”

“I know…”

You nod. “You just tell us when you want us gone and when to return. But I would love to meet her.”

“Thank you.”

“Optimism looks good on you, Sam,” you say as you turn around to leave him to his cooking. You catch the smile that eclipses his face as you turn the corner. Smiling to yourself you continue down the hall to the Dean cave where you can hear muffled voices. You stand in the doorway watching Dean and Destiny playfully fight over the TV remote. Dean tickles her and she bursts out laughing as she tries to squirm out of his reach. Eventually, you decide to make your presence known. You push off the door frame and say, “If you guys can’t agree peacefully then it must be my turn to choose.”

“No! I wanna watch Totoro!” Destiny whines.

“And Dean?”

“The new season of Game of Thrones just came out on Netflix…”

“And you think that’s appropriate to watch with Destiny?”

“I was here first! She just came in.”

“And who’s the adult here?”

“Fine,” he lets go of the remote with a sigh. “She can watch Totoro again…”

Destiny grips the remote but frowns. “I’m sorry.” She holds the remote out to Dean. “I can play in my room.”

You get ready to step in, but Dean takes the remote from her before pulling her onto his lap and hugging her tight. He turns on the TV, searches for My Neighbor Totoro and presses play. She lights up as she hears the opening music. He spins her around so she can watch, with her back leaning against his chest. She looks back at him confused.

“We watching or what?” he asks with a smile. 

“But…”

He pats the spot on the couch beside him, so you join them. You rest your head on Dean’s shoulder and he moves one arm to rest around you. 

“Being a parent means making sacrifices and compromises. My dad never got that. I’m not him. My family is always going to come first. I can watch my show later.”

“Thank you,” you whisper into his neck.

He nods and kisses your head before you all go quiet and focus on the movie that you’ve seen multiple times now. You all eventually drift off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you wake up the TV is dark. You check Dean’s watch for the time: 3:30. Your stomach growls. You carefully get up trying your best to not disturb Dean and Destiny who are still sleeping and go out in search of Sam. You find him sitting at a table in the library reading something on his laptop.

“Got an ETA for Eileen?”

“Around six.”

“You want us gone before then?”

“You don’t have to be. But yeah, may be easier if you are and then just come back after dessert…”

“Sounds good. I’ll wake up the napsters and then we can go get some ice cream or something and go to the park. I want to start trying to get her to play with other kids anyway. She’s acting like a normal kid mostly anyway, but I just want to make sure she won’t act out around other kids. Then we can go out somewhere for dinner. We’ll have our own family afternoon and night and come back when you text.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad about kicking you guys out.”

“It’s fine, besides, I offered. And we really do need to start doing more normal things like this as a family if we want to get out.”

“Alright. Thanks Y/N.”

You nod and walk back down the hall. You make a quick detour to go to the bathroom, and tidy your hair from your nap before going back to the Dean cave to wake up the rest of your family. The last thing you want is to startle Dean and have him go into self-defense hunting mode, so you come in quietly and sit on the couch sideways facing him. You softly run your hand through his hair and kiss his cheek. “It’s time to wake up, baby.” You then lean down and place a kiss on Destiny’s head from where she’s snuggled into Dean’s embrace. 

After a few minutes they finally start to stir. Once Dean’s almost fully awake and alert again he leans over and pecks your lips. Destiny blinks up at you as Dean keeps his arms wrapped around her securely. 

“Good evening, my two sleepyheads. How do the two of you feel about going out? Get a treat, maybe go to the park? And then dinner?” You ask slowly and carefully, making sure not to overwhelm them so soon after waking up.

“What about dinner here? Eileen?” Dean asks.

“Dinner here is only for two. We’ll come back and meet her after. I’ve already talked to Sam.”

“He’s been around for most of our dates, always C-blocking me. How come he gets privacy?”

“Dean,” you chastise him, as you flick your eyes down to Destiny warning him about his language. “Neither of you will eat what he’s cooked anyway. It’s rabbit food.”

“Fine,” he says with a sigh.

“Come on, would it really be so bad to go out with just the three of us for some family time?”

“No, it’s just not fair.”

“Life rarely is, suck it up.” You tickle Destiny’s foot that’s resting on the couch beside you. “You wanna come out with us?” She nods, Dean releases his grip and she climbs off his lap. “Alright, go put on some shoes and a jacket, okay?”

“Okay,” she says before scurrying off down the hall.

Dean leans over and kisses you deeply. When he pulls back he quietly asks, “you think once we get back maybe we could finally spend some time just the two of us, in bed? Let me worship this sex body?” He runs his hands down your sides.

“We’ll see. I can’t promise you anything, Dean. It depends on how Destiny goes. And how tired we both are after this evening.”

“I promise I won’t be too tired. And you don’t have to do a thing. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

“We’ll see. I know you miss sex, but we just have to be more careful about getting caught now. It’s one thing having Sam or Cas walk in, but Destiny? She’s a child, I won’t risk scarring her like that. Plus, I don’t want the awkward conversation that follows.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“Come on, she’ll be ready soon. We need to get ready too.” You take his hand and pull him to stand up and then you both go to your room to put on a jacket and shoes, just as you’d told Destiny to do.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[sis-goleona]

Winchester siblings

A sad little imagine

Dean x Sibling! reader

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

The reader looked closely into the grimy bathroom mirror, the reflection barely reflecting the hurt that had etched its way into their heart. The bathroom was dimly lit but it still illuminated the tears that trickled down the scope of their face and collected at the bottom of their chin. People say it's good to cry because it relieves pain but to the reader, the tears only serve as a reminder that the pain is not gone and their loved one is never coming back. They wiped their tears away with a rough hand, the friction caused a bright red mark to appear on their lower cheek, and it burned slightly. They let out a meek whimper, more tears pouring out of their eyes from frustration. Hands slammed down on the off-white porcelain sink with a loud slap. They were tired, oh so very tired, the days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and there was no distinction between night and day, that's what lack of sleep does to the human body; robbing the brain of all that it needs to properly function. The reader wanted to sleep but every time their eyes closed they saw him, him, screaming at the top of his lungs, clawing at the hardwood floor, begging and pleading for the immovable force to spare his life, those pleas fell onto deaf ears. Those eyes, those mosey green eyes that were as still as a lake bore into readers as he took one last fleeting breath until he was gone. ‘I’m so so sorry Dean’ they whispered into the crude curvature of the sink, their vision blurred from the constant flow of tears that collected in the ducts of their eyes and fell into the silver-pitted metal that was welded into the porcelain. Their eyes traveled back up to the rusting edge of the mirror, the rust looked like growing spores..disgusting. Their eyes traveled up further until they were looking into a pair of light green eyes, they were their own but how they reminded him of Dean. The reader sucked in a deep breath through their gritted teeth…They could not bear looking at themselves if all they could see was someone who was never coming back. They backed up in a hurried motion, their feet carrying them as far away as possible from the mirror, in a confined space as the bathroom they really could not go far. With the hurried motion, the reader lost their balance and slipped on the smooth tile of the floor. Falling down the reader's mind was completely blank, with no semblance of a thought forming. They fell straight on their ass, their head whipping back and slamming against the wall with a loud CRACK, the pain was instantly noticeable. It spread like a disease from the back of their head to behind their tightly shut eyes. The acidic taste of bile bubbled at the back of their throat begging to be let out. A loud groan of pain left their lips in a moment of shock. 

There was no denying it anymore…Dean; their brother was dead and gone, sooner or later they would have to come to terms with the big gaping hole that resided in their heart.

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

Sad.....

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Trouble

Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 3660

One Shot

Author’s Notes: It’s been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better…. but then, Dean always does.

Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!

Masterlist Geronimo (sequel)

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.

Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.

Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.

After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”

Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”

“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”

Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”

Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”

“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”

“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”

Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.

“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”

Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”

Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.

Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”

“Walking the dog.”

“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”

The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.

They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.

“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”

“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.

“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.

“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”

From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”

The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”

Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!

“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.

With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.

Nice ass, for a prissy snob.

“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”

Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”

You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”

The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”

“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”

He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”

You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.

The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.

Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”

They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”

Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.

“What happened, are you alright?”

His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.

“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.

“I’m fine, I just fell.”

“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”

“It is,” Sam said.

Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.

“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”

“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”

Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.

“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”

Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.

“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”

“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”

He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.

Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.

Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.

“Y/N, you alright?”

You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”

“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”

“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.

When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”

You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”

“It’s me. I make you nervous.”

Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”

“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”

Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”

Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.

You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”

Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”

He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.

You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’

“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”

“God’s gift, huh?”

“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”

The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.

Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.

You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”

Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”

“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”

You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.

“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”

Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.

“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”

You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”

“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”

“Better.”

He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”

You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”

Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”

He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”

“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”

“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”

Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”

You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”

“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”

You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”

“I just figured you were stuck up.”

“Oh.”

Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”

“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”

“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”

At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.

“Then why are you such a dick to me?”

“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”

It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”

Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”

“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”

He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.

“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”

This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!

“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”

Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.

“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”

Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.

“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”

You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.

Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.

“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”

You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.

When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”

He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”

Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.