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honeyryewhiskey · 1 month ago

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༊*·˚ BABYDOLL ༊*·˚ — bad idea right?

༊ — invasions of privacy come with being america’s shiny new star, but when a stalker breaks into your home, it’s a line crossed. after a string of failed bodyguards, your management hires dean winchester, he doesn’t flinch at your playful, bratty charm and if pushing his buttons gets him to lean in close and lay down the rules? hell, you’re certainly not complaining. PART ONE, your phone buzzes, a text from a friend letting you know it's open mic night at TABOO, one of those trendy underground clubs. and a total hotspot for good music. you're already slipping into a cute little outfit by the time dean realizes you're not staying in like he told you to. cw, scuffle with minor descriptions of violence, strong language, playful banter, protective dean 2.5k

masterlist — next

NEW YORK CITY 10:45PM

avril lavigne blares through the small pink speaker perched on the cluttered bathroom counter, barely noticeable amongst the vibrant mess of your makeup bag having spilled over the surface.

you hum along to the tune, leather clad hips swaying along, with your favorite shimmery lip gloss in hand. leaning over the countertop, you carefully trace your lips with a liner before adding the gloss. the finishing touches to your entire ensemble of glittery makeup, perfectly done-up hair and a bold little leather outfit.

you can’t even remember the last time you went out like this. it has been months of recording, performing, press tours, while also trying to evade the ever looming presence of whatever freak has become obsessed with all things you.

you tried not to worry too much, especially not when your career was finally sky rocketing. years of hard work, never letting yourself sleep if something wasn’t crafted to perfection, draining yourself of all energy just to make a crowd scream—is all finally paying off.

after months of cycling through bodyguards, management finally threw you one that might actually stick. you wouldn’t have been so picky if it weren’t for the fact that management insisted that the new guy becomes your other half. a room for him in your house, by your side the moment you step foot out the front door, keeping him as close as possible until the whole stalker-wanting-you-in-his-basement thing was handled.

the other guys were annoying, awkward, or just a bad fit. but when your assistant mentioned someone who once saved her life—a guy she knew was looking for a new career—they brought in dean winchester. your first thought when you saw him: gorgeous. your second thought when you heard his gruff, no-nonsense voice lay out his rules: fun.

maybe you missed mind reader on his resume, or the loud music piqued his interest, nevertheless dean’s large frame comes into your view through the mirror. sporting a scowl that shouts both confusion and annoyance, something you‘ve come to learn is just a typical dean expression, he crosses those big arms and leans against the door frame.

his eyes stay trained on your figure as your lips pop, working the lipgloss around. he knows you can see him, but you’re ignoring him anyways. something about this man made it so fun to mess with him. he’s professional, but not an emotionless robot. he certainly isn’t a ‘yes man’ by any means, rarely actually listening to your demands if he feels as though they impose on his rules. he’s so confident in his abilities—albeit a bit self righteous—that it’s fucking hot.

but fucking the guy who’s signed a contract to protect you, with his life, would be a bad idea…right?

dean pushes himself from the wall, striding over to power down the blaring speaker.. you give a quick glance as he settles against the counter, arms crossed again as he watches you busy your hands with adjusting your hair in the mirror. you catch his eye roll, “what are you doing?” he grumbles.

you pause, mimicking his crossed arms and stepping in front of him. he’s definitely going hate this, but you’ll be damned if you miss out on a night like tonight.

“i’m going out.” you cock a brow.

dean’s eyes squint, “out where?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you sigh, “just a little club,” you smile, batting your eyes up at him, “don’t worry, you can come too.”

his scowl turns to amused surprise as his eyebrows quip, laughing through his nose, “i go where you go. kinda my whole gig, babydoll, remember?”

there it is again, that pet name. he wasted no time in exchanging your real name for it, as if he wanted to be the only one to call you something else, something other than what the world knew you by. a name that wasn’t plastered on billboards across the states, becoming a household name, a trending twitter hashtag. to him, you were his babydoll. a pretty little thing in need of protection.

at first, you hated it. convinced he was trying to minimize you. but in the two weeks you’ve gotten to know him, it’s become a comfort to not have to always be the dazzling star associated with your name.

you give him a glossy pink grin, “oh, dean,” you sigh dramatically, “i’d never forget you.”

with that you turn on your heel, leaving him in the bathroom.. heels tapping against the hardwood as you saunter towards the front door.

“uh, huh,” he hums, swiftly following just a few paces behind you, “this is a bad idea, y’know, with everything–”

“live a little,” you throw over your shoulder, cutting him off before he can scold any further, “c’mon killjoy, the cars waiting.”

༊*·˚

taboo was one of those places where the cost of entry was either notoriety or looking like you should have notoriety.

it’s a small club, a long bar zig zags across the back wall, illuminated in a soft orange glow. a few tables with chairs are scattered about, too, but the focus of the venue is the small stage. just enough space for a full band, decorated with leafy green vines and old persian rugs overlapping one another. bodies were already crowding the front, as a band played some new age indie track. it was packed tonight, and between the humming of the bass and drunken cheers, you don’t hear dean until he’s grabbing your wrist, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“keep your ass close, too many people in here for you to start wanderin’ off on me.” he pulls back, his expression matching the heat of his words: he’s not playing around.

hah.

“keep up ‘n you won’t lose me!” you shout over the music, a sly smile across your lips.

dean twitches in agitation, opening his mouth to fire back at you when a booming voice calls your name from a few feet away. both of you snap your heads towards the sound, searching the crowded room. without looking, dean grabs your arm and pulls you closer, your shoulder bumping into his chest as his eyes continue sweeping the space, his firm grip locked around your forearm.

“so rough,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold as an all too familiar face finds his way to you. if this city was having a contest for most douchey nepo baby in manhattan, your ex was certainly a top contender. his fox-like eyes gleam with sly amusement as he flashes a grin that makes your stomach churn.

“there she is, america’s little sweetheart!” he shouts, his nasally voice cutting through the noise. his eyes flick up to dean, and the height difference is noticeable, making the knot of agitation in your stomach ease up.

“good to see you too, foster—” you begin before he’s cutting you off with a smirk.

“who’s the big guy?” he nods to dean, brows knotting up as his face finds that snub look he was never good at hiding.

“new bodyguard, dean winchester,” you answer, pausing to look at dean, who doesn’t even acknowledge foster’s presence. his sharp eyes are still scanning the room, utterly indifferent. the corner of your mouth twitches as you suppress a smile—foster hates being ignored, almost as much as he hated sharing attention when you were dating.

foster shifts uncomfortably, hiding it poorly as he sips from a short glass. “c’mon,” he says, forcing a grin as slimy as ever. “let me get you a drink.” his fingers slide toward the hem of your top, tugging lightly to pull you closer. bad idea.

dean reacts before either of you can register it. his hand clamps down on foster’s wrist, squeezing until the smug grin twists into a grimace. still unsatisfied, dean yanks foster’s arm upward, curling it back.

“hands. off,” Dean growls, his tone low and menacing. with a shove, he sends foster stumbling backward.

“dude, you’re a fucking psycho!” foster yelps, rubbing his wrist, “keep your dog on a leash, or i’ll call my father!” he shouts before cowering away, slinking back into the crowd.

dean doesn’t even spare him a second glance, his gaze locked onto you as he looks you over, concern lacing his eyes, “you good?”

“yeah,” you manage to say, though the weight of his piercing stare makes your stomach flip.

“who’s the douche?” he grumbles, the disgust evident in the way his nose curls.

“my ex,” you sigh, brushing a strand of hair from your face in a futile attempt to cool your nerves, “stuck up rich kid, has never been told no kinda guy.”

dean’s jaw tightens, jade green eyes sweeping over you like he’s still assessing for damage, but all he can see is the lingering discomfort from having to interact with foster again, “sounds like a fuckin’ loser.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as you sheepishly nod in agreeance, “yeah, he is a fucking loser.”

your laugh brings out that smile dean seldom shows off when he’s on the job. his big, charming grin graces you as he winks.

thankfully, the music comes to a stop as you feel a blush creeping onto your skin. the band exits the stage with a symphony of clapping, whistling and cheering as a man in a checkered scarf and a fedora replaces them on stage.

“alright, alright, everybody give it up for tonic water!” he cheers into the mic, another wave of noise rippling through the crowd as you sneak a glance at dean. his face is twisted in that agitated confusion again, he doesn't seem like the indie underground music type, and you make a mental note to figure out what music he does listen to. metal, classic rock, hell maybe even hair rock—

your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your name being shouted into the mic. the crowd shares a gasp, every head on a swivel now as they all are searching for you.

“oh, c’mon, girl! we know you’re here!” the man coos, and you spot a certain loser standing at the edge of the stage. foster tipped them off, probably using his velvet tongue to convince them you’d absolutely love this.

open mics were once your favorite. you’d slip through bars all weekend just to get a chance at feeling the adrenaline of being on a stage. as your following grew, it became harder to just pop up somewhere without the crowd getting out of hand. but taboo prides themselves on keeping a high profile client base, the kind that might actually be fine to get in front of. so long as no one posts your location to twitter, of course.

a few of the people around you are already pointing, excitement etched into their drunken smiles. dean’s arms have found your waist, keeping you firmly in place.

but this, feels like a challenge, and god do you love a good challenge.

prying yourself from dean, the crowd starts to part, an opening from you to the stage. you lean on your tip toes, tucking into dean’s ear, “i’ll be fine, just stay by the stage.”

pulling back, you’re met with a very unimpressed glare. but you’re already snaking away before he can yank you back, a chaos of whistling and cheering erupting again as you make your way to the stage.

you turn on the charm, hips swaying as you flash a bright smile to the crowd. the host claps as you climb the steps to join him on stage.

there are already musicians at each instrument, you huddle together and decide to sing a cover, something they all know how to play.

“ready?” fedora guy asks, beaming with excitement.

“hell yeah,” you nod, taking the mic from his hands.

you turn, and the crowd looks much larger from this perspective. there's already a dozen little lights glowing, and your stomach flips as you hope they at least post their videos after you’ve left the club. walking out into an uncontrolled crowd of screaming fans would probably send dean into overdrive and you wouldn’t hear the end of his rantings about being impulsive and careless.

“hey y’all,” you giggle into the mic, feeling the heat of adrenaline burn through your entire body, “we’re gonna play somethin’ i think everyone will like. a throwback to the classics, so join in if you know the words, alright?”

the band comes in steady, the intro to the chain, vibrating against the club walls. you nod to the count, falling into the opening verse.

the crowd echos your sounds, clapping and feet stomping to the beat heightening the symphony. bliss washes over, finding sweet comfort in the pulsing music and vibrant crowd. you take control of the small space of the stage, dancing and head banging along as you sing. you’ve already had a taste of packed stadiums, sold out venues five times larger than taboo. but you’ve missed the sultry intimacy of a smaller crowd. how it feels to be so connected to a sea of people that aren’t here just for you. it’s exhilarating, and you feel dizzy from it’s intensity.

as the song’s buzz dies out in the outro, a chant for more rumbles out of the crowd. you find dean, arms crossed as he watches from the side. a ghost of a smile is on his lips, and you take that inch for a mile.

nodding to the band, they bring the tempo back up, “i think we can go for one more, right?” you tease, winking at the crowd as the whistles and cheering challenge the volume of the music.

the bassist plucks into you’re so vain, the intro itself pulling more excitement from the audience. you smile down at them, swaying to the sounds as you dive back into song. the chorus becomes a shared chant, the entire room coming alive with the song. you belt out the song, moving along with the dramatics of the rhythm, playing into the crowd.

your eyes keep finding dean’s, as he keeps his focus on you. his amusement is evident, but he isn’t watching with the same glimmer of starstruck as everyone else. in his mind you’re a high-spirited time bomb drenched in glitter that he’s been tasked to keep from getting herself into danger. but you can’t help but wonder just how much of your exuberance he actually enjoys.

the song rolls to a finish, and you’re bowing to the crowd. high on the adrenaline, you’re giggling through your ‘thank you’s as you pass the mic back to the host and find your way back to dean.

beaming up at him, you’re practically vibrating as he looks down at you with a smirk, “you looked good up there,” he clears his throat, “now let’s get your pretty ass home before i have to break some more wrists.”

you roll your eyes, biting your lip to fight back a smile.

“alright, princess?” he quips, leaning closer with an eyebrow quirked.

“alright, fine,” you groan, waving off his attitude, “take me home, cowboy.” you bring up a pointer finger, brows furrowing in mock seriousness, “but the night is young! you’re staying up to watch chick flicks with me and i don’t wanna hear shit about it.”

i honestly just needed to get the ball rolling on this story, sooo kinda short read with this one but lmk what you think :,)

tags from ppl who commented on the preview !! @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @kpopslur @ultravi0lence14 @globetrotter28 @what-has-life-come-to

#babydoll dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #supernatural #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester au #dean winchester fanfiction

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