#jealous!dean winchester x reader

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Guerriero

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Victor, Kevin and the rest of the band eventually, Bobby, Donna, and faceless Uber drivers

Word Count: 1978

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, hardcore jealousy, self loathing, funneling rage as productively as possible

Series Masterlist

It shouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, any other day and any other hand on the small of your back, he wouldn’t have even looked twice. But there was Donna and Jody’s manager guiding you out of the way of traffic, all smooth and handsome and available.

Dean couldn’t look away. He stood in the kitchenette on the bus, forgetting he was looking for some painkillers for his damn head when everything just stopped making sense. He watched as the both of you smiled and talked all the way up to the employee entrance, security passes in hand.

Goddamn Vic.

Instantly, Dean knew it was his fault. If he hadn’t let this thing with Bela go on this long, he might have been able to have a shot with you. If he hadn’t needed the reputation ‘Hail Mary’ that was dating Bela in the first place, maybe he’d have had the freedom to date whoever he wanted sooner. And maybe, if he hadn’t let Bela stay in his room the night before instead of bunking with you, you wouldn’t have been being chatted up alone by the opener’s manager.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Dean slammed the cabinet closed and dropped onto one of the benches surrounding the table. His head fell into his hands and he tried to get a grip.

Breathe, damnit. 

He needed to breathe.

He had no right to be this pissed. You didn’t owe him anything. Least of all your loyalty. But god had he gotten used to it. Had even grown to expect it.

He started humming ‘Enter Sandman’ and let his breathing match the off beat of the rhythm. 

Somebody cleared their throat. Dean looked up to see a saucer-eyed Kevin staring at him and then looking everywhere else once he got caught.

“You good, man?”

“No.” Dean rubbed his eyes and put his head back down.

He would not punch another keyboardist. He would not punch another band member. Not even Sam.

Sam.

Where was that overgrown hair commercial when he needed him, anyway?

Kevin, God bless him, was still there. “Do you need anything?”

Dean needed to just fucking get it together.

“Can you find my brother for me, please?” Dean wiped his hand down his face. “Just find Sam.”

“On it.” Kevin had his phone out and was walking off the bus before Dean could even mutter his thanks.

Dean stayed on the bus. He didn’t know why, but it felt safest to not be in public. And to not risk seeing you or Victor again and therefore lose the last semblance of sanity he had left.

Several murder plots and a discarded flannel later, Sam’s text buzzed in Dean’s pocket.

He wasn’t even fucking at the venue yet.

Dean threw his phone at the driver’s seat headrest and miraculously it didn’t break.

He breathed again. He counted them harder.

He had tools to get out of this spiral. Missouri told him he could do it on his own. Breathing wasn’t working. But he could put this energy to use, he didn’t need to let it win.

What he did need was to get out of there.

Dean had no idea what, if anything, was said during his Uber ride home. Whatever, he’d rate the guy a five later. He’d tip like the fucking millionaire he was. 

But right now he just wanted to hit something.

The speed bag was too flimsy, too annoying for what had been building inside him for over an hour. Something he had held back on a simmer as long as he could. He didn’t take the time to wrap his knuckles, but he did shove his hands into the first pair of gloves he found, cushioning the worst of potential injuries.

The slap of the punching bag against his gloves was a forgotten clarity.

One-two

One-two

One-two, jab jab

Uppercut

Dean fully exhaled and recentered. 

One-two

One-two-three

One

One

One-two

He knew the anger was at himself. At his past actions and their consequences. But that knowledge didn’t help the force or scope of the emotion dwindle. Dean had always been his worst enemy. And he was damn good at it.

One

One-two

One

One-two-three

He tried to bounce on his feet, his bulky boots weighed down more than he liked. At least his logical brain was rebooting.

One-two

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He ignored it.

One

One

One-two

One-two-three

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean punched until his knuckles ached and his back screamed at his terrible stance. Eventually he dropped the gloves and moved to the free weights. The rage left him slowly and then all at once.

Exhaustion hit him sometime after six o’clock, when he sat down and braved looking at his phone.

He didn’t open his messages or listen to any of the voice mails. Instead he called Sam and told him he was on his way, without detail or apology and then promptly hung up.

The Uber back took twice as long.

He still tipped.

“The fuck you been, boy?!” Bobby said before Dean could clear the service elevator. “We got people going out of their minds looking for you.”

Bobby had to book it to keep time with Dean’s pace at his age, but he was pissed enough not to say anything about it.

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to get my head on straight.---- Uh, anybody rat me out to the suits?” 

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I have a death wish to you?” “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby huffed. “Yeah, well, you better kiss and make up with those girls. They were worried about your sorry ass, too. But first—”

“Dean Michael Winchester.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned on his heels, better to face the firing squad than to wait for the first bullet to break the skin.

“Pammy.”

“Do not. No. Do not ‘Pammy’ me. Answer your damn phone, asshole.”

Dean didn’t answer, he just walked up to her, looked into her piercing eyes, and waited her out. She exhaled and then stepped back, while looking him over.

“You good?” She held up his right hand to show she saw his raised knuckles.

“I’m good.”

“And the other guy?”

“Hanging in the rec room at home.”

Pam pursed her lips like she was ‘oh’ing at him and grinned. “That could be very kinky, but I catch your drift.”

“Who else I need to make nice with?”

Pam dropped her chin and glared. “Everybody.”

“But I think you should start with Trouble— or Charlie. Then maybe your girlfriend? Remember her? She’s not happy with you either.”

Oh, joy.

“Wait— what time is it? Isn’t Charlie already in the booth?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear that? Jody’s girls are on stage, genius,” Bobby broke in.

“Okay, lemme check in with Sam and see if I can find Trouble before we gotta set up.”

Dean felt Pam and Bobby share a look as he walked away, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to overthink anything at that point. Christ, somebody better have a friggin’ energy drink or he was gonna crash, hard.

Show number two was off to an amazing start.

If Dean survived this tour, he was giving himself a vacation. 

If.

Dean rushed through his warm ups. He chugged a Gatorade because he didn’t want to pass out on stage and polished it off with a 5 hour energy he got off of Kevin. Everybody was surprisingly cool once he arrived and got situated. Something told him it was because he was stone cold sober, but they had seen him at his worst. Everyone knew this was just a bump in the road, not a pitfall. Or so he hoped.

Annie gave him a hug and warned him not to scare her like that again.

With Charlie in the booth, who got only a cursory update over the walkies, that left you. But you had Bela in the VIP for that night’s show, which saved him another round of explanations and apologies, for the time being.

The dressing room was filled with activity, from Sam doing his hair and Pam doing Kevin’s eye liner to Lee putting on deodorant and Annie doing vocal runs in the corner. Dean threw on a fresh shirt before making sure his earpiece was in and his personal mic was secured. His hair was still damp since he threw it under a ball cap after showering at home one last time before they hit the road.

He coated his fingers in gel and played with it until it was close to his usual subtle peak.

“You all pretty enough, yet? Need ya out there, yesterday,” Bobby bellowed and held the door as everyone scrambled to head backstage.

The sounds of the fans sending off SPS thundered above them. Dean inhaled against the familiar anticipation squeezing his insides. As they snaked through the crew and the equipment, the stadium hummed with people milling about, hitting the restroom, or grabbing more drinks before they took the stage.

It felt good to be the headliner. Dean didn’t take that for granted. And if in ten or fifteen years they're no longer relevant and they end up playing county fairs or opening for the next big thing, Dean thinks he’d still do it. Because it’s not about his ego, it’s about giving a good show. About sharing something he made with somebody, the exchange of art, the experience of it. 

Being seen and heard, even in small increments, was so necessary to who he had become.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Donna shrieked in surprise as the two bands passed each other. Dean couldn’t do anything but give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know— I’ll see ya later.”

“Oh, you!” She shoved him playfully and let Dean get up on stage. There was never any bad blood there, even if he had them worried too.

Everything was right where it was supposed to be, and Dean slipped his guitar strap on, and got ready to rock. Second night setlists were almost negatives of the ones they planned for first nights. Not that many people could afford to go to both shows, but nonetheless they switched it up even if it was for their own sanity’s sake.

The lights came up and Sam and Dean started the opening riff and just as Dean’s voice broke through the speakers, Charlie cut the lights. “Black” was a tune they had played with a lot over the years, but never something they’d opened with. The fans shrieked over the opening line and then spots shot out over each of them as the song pushed on, churning together into something darker.

Lee held the last chord and the lights all came back up to ruckus applause.

Dean exhaled and braced himself for the next song. He hadn’t spoken to you about it since he sent you the album files, months ago now. Charlie eased the lights back into something more pensive and he centered up on the stage.

“Alright, so you might have heard we shared some of the new stuff with the folks last night.” He paused to let the crowd reply. “But, this one is new to everybody, lemme know whatcha think, alright?”

They started off with Pamela’s count, everyone together, united for ‘Pushing Through’. He thought about all those nights you called him just to check in, with nothing to say, besides just being your caring, thoughtful self. He closed his eyes to the thousands of people in front of him, even to those in the pit whose phones were all glaring at his face, and sang like you were the only person who would hear him.

He just wanted you to listen to him and everything he couldn’t say.

Tagging:

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Chapter 29: Obbligato

[the-spicy-release-of-death]

Masterlist

House of the Dragon

Aemond Targaryen

A Study of Dramatic Irony

Summary: Y/n always had a crush on Aemond. Her close friendship with Helaena stopped her from crossing the fine line of friendship with Aemond, who silently returns her feelings.

Tropes: Jealousy, mutual pining, alternate universe (modern university setting), She/her reader

Fine Arts (i) Film Studies (ii) Drama Studies (iii)

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

“The thing about Dean was that he never said I love you. He always implied it, by his daily actions or loving looks, but he never truly uttered that three worded sentence. Instead, he always said: Don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t Do Anything Stupid   

[moonlightspencie]

Hello! I was wondering if I could make a Dean x Readed request where he's jealous of her and Sam, thinking they're together when they're actually just good friends? Love your writing!!

i’ll write a little drabble bc i do think this is a fun concept BUT im happy to tell you that i already have a full-length fic about this exact thing!! here’s the link to that

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader, platonic!sam winchester x reader

—————

Dean stared at the pair chatting across the table from him in the library. His brow was set, and his eyes hadn’t been on the screen of the laptop in a couple of minutes, now.

They were incessantly talking. Since when did they talk this much? Or get along this well?

Granted, it had been a few months since they’d last all seen each other. But things shouldn’t have changed between them that much. Unless…

“Hey,” Sam said, snapping Dean out of his haze. “What’s up with the death-glare?”

Dean raised a brow. “I’m not glaring.”

Sam glanced at his conversational partner, a smirk on his face.

“I think he’s glowering, then. Maybe just… aggressively staring,” she said, voice a little quiet for dramatic effect.

“Maybe if you two would get some work done instead of… makin’ eyes at each other—”

“‘Making eyes’?” she exclaimed with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Sitting there staring at each other like you wanna rip each others clothes off. It’s gross.”

Her eyes went wide. She looked over at Sam, and he stared back with a quizzical look, giving a shrug.

“Dean, we’re not,” Sam started, then let out a frustrated sigh. “We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Since when are you this close?”

“Since he actually responds to all my messages and makes an effort to talk,” she said pointedly. “Maybe somebody wouldn’t be so jealous if he didn’t ignore half my texts.”

Dean’s face dropped. “I’m not jealous.”

She quirked a brow, staring back at him. Sam cleared his throat, standing up.

“I think I’m going to catch a quick shower before we leave tonight.”

She nodded, still watching Dean as he followed his brother’s movements until he was out of sight.

“People who aren’t jealous don’t stare. Just so you know,” she said with a smirk.

“Annoyed people do.”

“What exactly are you annoyed by? Two people being friends?”

He sighed, shaking his head and staring down at the tabletop. She leaned in slightly, catching his eye again.

“Just for the record, you wouldn’t have to be ‘annoyed’ if you’d just make a move already.”

With that, she stood and walked towards the kitchen, leaving a shocked and blushing Dean stuck to his chair.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 17

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, mentions of drugs and porn, fluff, pining, majorly jealous!Dean (*cackles* 😈), some angst, A+ parenting of a teenager, 70s disco & roller rinks

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Welcome back, babes! Batch #4 is a wild one, so grab your popcorn, settle in, and hold on to your seats! Jealous!Dean is definitely always one of my favorites to write, but I might have outdone myself with this one. We’re starting soft but prepare yourself for some major drama. Also, the women are getting more feisty and seeing through his shit. It’s quite hilarious. Enjoy! 😂🖤

<< 16 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

17. Voulez-Vous

The California sun is a hot, flaming orange ball in the blue sky, beaming as brightly as the shiny, black paint of the classic beauty and the green-eyed director’s grin as the Impala rolls into the parking lot of the old gym. Everyone’s been on break for a whole month, a nice end-of-summer vacation. Some girls left the motel, visiting family members and enjoying their freedom. Even Strindberg flew east for an entire week to see her parents.

Dean, on the other hand, kept busy, mostly coping with being a newborn father and managing a teenager with raging hormones. Claire’s up, she’s down, she’s sleeping a lot and simultaneously stays up all night. She hates school; she loves school. She hates Jack; she loves Jack. It’s a lot to handle, which is why he’s glad Y/N stops by as much as she can and micromanages the blooming family. Fatherhood ain’t so bad so far, though. Turns out it’s pretty damn hard to kill a teenager.

And lucky him, Claire invites the actress to dinner almost every night, which is beneficial for obvious reasons because Dean gets to hang out with her, too. Y/N cooks, even teaching the teenager a thing or two, and then they all eat at the dinner table like a goddamn family. No one says grace, though. Afterwards, they play fucking board games of all things or watch movies together. It’s textbook domestic bliss, and strangely, he doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he hopes it never ends and wonders why he hasn’t done something like this sooner. For the first time in his forty-four years, he understands the curb appeal of the suburban family life. It’s quite nice.

Y/N also helps Claire with homework like the true nerd she is, and sometimes, when it’s too late to drive back to the motel, or she had too much wine – Dean religiously ensuring to refill her glass all throughout the evening – Y/N even stays the night, albeit she spends it on the couch, refusing his invitation to join him in bed.

It’s not even a sex offer, you know? It’s just a ‘sleep on a comfortable memory foam mattress and not on that filthy couch’ offer. He’s mainly concerned about her health and the state of her back. He bought that dirty thing back in ‘71, for God’s sake… But the young actress doesn’t want to give Claire the “wrong idea.” Can you fucking believe that shit?!

Dean spent a whole week apart from Y/N, however, while she was in Nebraska pushing fucking cows. He hates to admit it, but he has missed her like crazy. He barely slept, he barely ate (at least nothing healthy), he smoked a whole carton of cigarettes, and worst of all, Y/N told him to only call in emergencies because her mom always picks up the phone, and that woman is apparently goddamn nosy. The young actress called him twice from a pay phone at a gas station, though. But, to be fair, she just checked in to make sure Claire was doing okay without her around to supervise his parenting.

Truthfully, while Y/N might be glorious seventeen years younger than him, she’s surely more mature. She’s like a soccer mom – or an 80-year-old grandma knitting baby hats in a rocking chair and forcing you to eat broccoli and oatmeal cookies. She’s every little thing. Everything great. All at once – which, on a good day, is overwhelming at best. On a bad day, though, that knowledge is downright killing him.

She’s his Alma. There’s no goddamn way around it. He wants to eat fucking vegetables for her.

His apple green eyes then spot the actress who holds his heart hostage as she gleefully chats with a few of the other women in front of the gym’s entrance, probably catching up like schoolgirls after summer break. There’s a lot of giggling going on.

Y/N then spies the Impala and sends him a shining smile that causes his plastic heart to melt like ice cream in the sun, waving her hand all cute before hopping over to the car and crawling into the passenger’s seat.

“Morning, boss!“

Dean groans loudly, rubbing his temples. “Oh God, it’s too early for that much cheerfulness…”

“Why are you parked all the way over here?”

“I’m giving myself a minute, okay? Before I have to spend the next twenty weeks of my life surrounded by a bunch of people,” Dean grunts exhaustively.

“Wow, look at you. You look so handsome.”

That particular compliment makes him drop his hands from his freckled face, his eyes drifting to her. A smug grin curves his plump lips – his genius plan is working.

Dean’s been using the break to clean up a bit. Not just for Y/N but for Claire, too. They both deserve fucking better than him. He knows. However, he still can’t shake the coke, although he told both women in his life that he’s clean again. But before you yell at him, just let him explain, alright?

Dean can’t go through another cold turkey nightmare. He doesn’t want to be weak, especially since he has tons of work to get done and tons of pressure weighing on his broad shoulders. So, he sneaks a few dust particles every once in a while to maintain a steady addiction without going overboard, just enough to avoid withdrawals. He needs the bit of extra energy to survive in this jungle of wildcats. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best he can do for now without going completely nuts in this circus.

Hand on his red-blooded, beating heart, though, he swears he’ll get clean for good once this fucking show is over. Promise.

The good news is, however, for once, Dean comes to work clean-shaven, his hair a few inches shorter and less disheveled than usual, and freshly washed clothes clad his showered and nicely scented body. His heart soars as he watches Y/N’s eyes take in his new appearance, her teeth languidly tugging on her bottom lip. If he concentrates hard enough, he can even see how her breath hitches and her pulse accelerates. And God, Dean loves how her hungry eyes shamelessly devour him, bathes in the glorious feeling of her gawks.    

“Thanks.” He smirks cunningly and teases, “Is that a new pair of mom jeans? How was Nebraska?”

“Eh, it was…”

“Nebraska?” Dean offers knowingly. That’s why he hasn’t visited Kansas in more than two decades.

“Yep.” She gives him a heavy nod and sighs. “It was nice to see my parents, though. Speaking of parenting, how’s it going with our favorite rebel?”

“It’s, you know… going,” Dean replies, hearing Y/N’s little giggle next to him. God, he’s missed that stupid noise. It’s more addicting than the coke.

“So, what’s happening today? What are we doing? God, I’m so excited!” Y/N squeals giddily in the leather seat. “Oh, uhm, I also have a few notes for the pilot for you.” She produces a notebook from her purse and puts her glasses on. Of course, she does. “I really think we need a title card, you know? Something to draw the audience in… And can you punch up your graphics? We could use more pow. And that edit at thirty-six minutes and twenty-two seconds looked a little rough… Maybe you wanna write that down?”

Dean scowls at her, deeply, and lets out an exhaustive breath. “How about we dial back a little, huh? Let’s take it easy.”

“I’m sorry.” The pout on her plush lips is adorable, which drives him mad, wanting to kiss it away. She stores notebook and glasses back in her bag. “I’m just so thrilled! It’s our first day back! Are you nervous? Is that why you’re grumpy?”

“Yes, no… maybe,” Dean grunts, and then he’s the one that pouts, slumping back into his seat. “No pep talks, alright? This is not my usual thing, okay? I don’t plan shit months in advance. I even ironed this fucking shirt this morning. No idea why. I don’t even wanna do this fucking thing, you know?”

“It’s a big production. You’re gonna do great. And you’ve got me, boss. We’re in this together,” Y/N encourages him, smiling like she believes her own lie. “Hey, uhm, the girls and I were wondering if we could extend curfew tonight? It’s Meg’s birthday, and Charlie and Ruby want to go to the roller rink to celebrate and then do an after-party by the pool. You’re invited, too.”

“Uh-huh…” Dean rubs his mouth with two fingers to hide the grin, choosing to humor her. “And did they, by any chance, put you up to ask me because they know you’re my favorite, or am I supposed to believe this is a sheer coincidence?”

Y/N beams a thousand-watt smile, eyes twinkling and outshining the Hollywood sign. “I’m your favorite?”

Shit…

“What, no…” Dean shakes his head vehemently. “I meant that they probably think you are because we hang out the most, y’know?”

“Yes, but considering we do spend so much time together, maybe their assumption is correct,” the clever minx counters.

“Nope, I just find you less annoying than the others,” he dismisses her silly idea, which is essentially the truth, but she can’t know that.  

“But that would also mean–”

“Okay, can we stop this?” Dean cuts her off, grumbling, “Congrats, you’re making me leave my Baby, and that’s my favorite place to be.”

“Oh, wait!“ A palm on his bicep stops his escape and causes severe heart palpitations in his chest. “So, can we go?”

“Hm, what? Oh.”

“Because I really wanna go, too.” There’s the fucking pout on her pink lips again. The cute bat of her eyelashes is her finishing move.  

“Fine, I’ll allow it.”

The women have all gathered on the bleachers for Dean’s welcome speech – which won’t be that welcoming because he’s got a shitload of things on his plate. For once, there are actually other people in the gym, a whole production crew building a set as they transform the rundown gym into a luxurious ballroom.

“Alright, ladies!” Dean’s baritone shouts loudly over the irritating background noise of drills and hammers, clapping his hands together. “Feels exciting around here, right? And we finally got some men in this fucking gym, too…”

“Wooo! Hubba-hubba,” Ruby hollers and immediately winks at one of his camera guys, Kevin, who frankly seems intimidated. Who wouldn’t be? These wild women are practically cat-calling these poor men.

Horny fucking bitches… Except for Strindberg, of course. Can’t those girls just rub some of that sluttiness off on her?

“Okay, keep it in your pants, girls. They’re not here for you, so don’t distract them. They need to fucking work,” Dean warns them, although he knows it’s useless with that untamed pack. “The next few days are prep days, which means it’s about me, so stay out of my way, alright? Just start training at the motel. You know, cannonball into the pool… Alright, dismissed.”

“Don’t you wanna explain the plan to us, maybe?” Y/N prompts him, earning her a stern glare. She’s getting too fucking cocky, and he needs to keep his authority in check before she levels up and recognizes what kind of power she exerts over him.

“It’s not fucking rocket science, Y/N,” he snaps, feigning his impatience. “You guys do promos every week where you talk shit about each other, and then there’s a lot of wrestling matches. Got it?”

“What about the storylines?” Strindberg inquires next, eliciting a groan from him.

“Y/N!” The deep timbre of his voice is booming, a thundering stare serving as a warning to drop it, but she doesn’t cower like she used to. Apparently, now he’s dealing with sass and feistiness. Great. What has he done? Sometimes, he misses the obedient, compliant nerd she used to be, the days when she was all “Yes, sir,” and “How can I please you, boss?”. Nevertheless, his cock still twitches in his jeans, maybe even more so now.

“Fine,” the young actress huffs and holds up her palms in pretend surrender. He even recognizes a hint of an eye roll. Pure defiance.

Dear fucking God, if she doesn’t stop this soon, she’ll be in his office with her bare ass out and bend over his goddamn desk in less than five minutes.

Cas then hands the women their new contracts, which should basically be fucking slave agreements. Those girls are getting a shit deal, but neither the producer nor Dean can do anything about it. Crowley set up those terms of agreement, and the network only cares about making money. Capitalism and slavery are, after all, the backbone of this country.

As Dean is giving the sound team some clarifying instructions, his ears pick up a conversation between Strindberg and one of his camera operators, Benny. Admittedly, the guy is handsome and about ten years his junior, and the director is slightly sensitive around cameramen ever since his cheating second ex-wife.

Y/N, however, still isn’t interested in dating – or she would’ve already accepted his offer and knocked on his bedroom door on one of those many nights they’ve spent together. Duh. He’s sure of it. There’s nothing for Dean to worry about. Nothing. Zero, zip, zilch, nada. He knows she’s not ready yet.

“Hey… Y/N, right?” Benny approaches the young actress, and Dean can hear the goddamn ear-to-ear grin in the guy’s voice – even with his back turned. “Just wanted to tell you, uhm, you did a great job with the pilot. Seems like you’re multi-talented, cher. Actress, professional wrestler, and director... You’re quite an impressive person.”

“Oh, uhm, thanks.”

Jesus fucking Christ, shit… Dean can practically hear the heat rushing to her cheeks as she furiously blushes. Compliments are her kryptonite, and this was admittedly a good one. As he spies a glance over his shoulder, he can see she’s even a little weak in the knees as she tucks her hair behind her ears, almost urging the director to punch that guy’s lungs through his torso.

“You’re welcome, cher.” Benny smiles, more kind than flirtatious, but Dean knows men don’t give women compliments for no reason. There’s always an agenda behind it. In most cases, that agenda is sex. “Maybe we could go for a drink when I’m finished here?”

There it is! Dean loves to be right about stuff like that. And also: shit, shit, shit…

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Benny, you got time to set up camera B for me? I don’t think I’m fucking paying you to chat with my actresses,” Dean barks as he approaches the pair, saving Y/N from this awkward situation like a true hero, chest puffed and all. He plants his bow legs next to her, his shoulder blade pushing her behind his back like a wedge between the flirty couple. He’s the fucking Berlin wall, and the commie ain’t getting out.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, chief.” Benny nods and swallows with a bitter smile. Dean can read the irritation on the guy’s face, which pleasantly feeds his sadistic side.

“Oooh, Benny!” Ruby excitedly jogs up to the three and halts in front of the blue-eyed camera operator with a mischievous grin, twirling her hair between her red-painted fingernails. “We’re throwing a party at the motel tonight and were wondering if you wanted to come and bring the rest of those hulky boys with you?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll ask the guys, but it would be our pleasure, cher,” Benny chuckles, charm oozing from every defined muscle in that guy’s body, but Dean’s thread of patience rips when the bastard looks back at Y/N and drags his fucking teeth over his lower lip, blatantly gawking at his favorite. “Maybe I’ll see you there, too,” the asshole has the nerve to flirt.

“Yeah, maybe.” Y/N fucking blushes.

Dean can’t tell for sure if she’s actually interested in the guy or if she’s just politely humoring him. Either way, that’s the final straw, and the smidge of patience he possesses disintegrates into thin air. “Alright, you guys can party all you want, but just as a reminder, no fraternization between crew and cast members is allowed on this set. No funny business.”

“What?! Since when?” Ruby whines, puckering her brow. “But I’m horny!”

“Are you going to stick to that rule, boss?” Strindberg mockingly adds, both women dubiously cocking their eyebrows at him.    

Fuck… But Dean doesn’t have to stick to that stupid rule, okay? He’s the boss and can do whatever the fuck he wants. That’s the magic of it. Obviously, he doesn’t give a shit who fucks who. He’s lived through the 60s. For all he cares, they can fuck like rabbits in those motel rooms. This rule is only applicable to Y/N and other men who aren’t him. And don’t you dare call him petty – he saw her first and is calling dibs, alright?

“Enough of you two. I don’t need input from the peanut gallery,” Dean grits, looking at the girls sharply. “Didn’t I tell you to stay outta my way today? What are you still doing here? Get the fuck back to the motel. Pronto.”

“Fine, alright, we’ll go,” Y/N mutters with an eye roll, linking arms with Ruby as she drags her friend away. “You’re so grumpy today…”

Her words drift toward him in passing as she stalks out of the gym with the brunette, her hips swaying with pure temptation as he watches her leave, his dick straining against the zipper. Fucking tease.  

Spinning back to Benny, Dean lets out a long sigh, placing his palms on his denim-clad hips. “Ever worked with this many fucking women before?”

Surprisingly, the camera operator’s head positively bobs. “Actually, yeah. I used to shoot porn before this, so if you ever need an artfully framed crotch shot, I’m your guy, chief.”

Fucking shit… Why does this guy have to be so goddamn likable? What’s he supposed to do with that, huh?

However, Dean’s satisfied he has avoided a fucking disaster today. He had to stomp that teeny tiny flame between Y/N and Benny before it threatened to become a house fire that would’ve burned down the director’s carefully laid plans. Crisis averted. For now, at least. That camera guy better keeps it in his pants before Dean fires his ass.

The roller rink is a fucking nightmare.

It’s loud, there are annoying happy people everywhere, the 70s disco music is godawful, the lights are too bright and flashy, and Y/N has decided to wear the shortest skirt and tightest shirt in history. It’s all a swirl of baby pink and blue on legs that go on for miles, a sweet candy waiting for him to be unwrapped.

It’s not about sex, however. It’s just what Dean tells himself whenever he’s not in a pathetic enough mood to mull over love shit. Honestly, his plastic heart would take anything from her at this point like a goddamn orphan. A smile, a touch, a look, a fucking feeling.  

On the contrary, Dean gets to stand on the sidelines while watching yet another woman he loves perfect her flirting game with one of his camera operators. Of course, Benny has shown up. It just seems to be Dean’s luck. Unfortunately, the guy’s not an idiot and realized fairly quickly what a catch Y/N is. How fucking great…

Dean knows it’s not the same as his last marriage, though, because Y/N doesn’t officially belong to him. He hasn’t claimed her yet, not that it ever truly helps, but it’s not even his fault since Y/N’s ironically his cockblock, too. The fact that she isn’t his should make all of this better, but it honestly just feels worse. Whispered gossip among the women has already informed him that Benny actually asked her out on a date, and it rips Dean’s heart apart, knowing the cameraman is probably the better choice for her.

Maybe he needs to let go, let her go, stop holding onto her like an obsessed stalker. He shouldn’t try to tame and cage a wolf. They belong in the wild. They’re supposed to run free and not obey some master.

As Dean leans against the wooden railing and nurses a beer, watching the girls have fun in the rink, Y/N elegantly rolls his way, a beaming smile on her face as she halts in front of him.

“Hi, boss!” After her greeting, she swiftly kneels down, her skirt hiking up a bit and exposing more of her sun-kissed thighs as she fixes the laces on her skates.

Dean can’t help the smile that curves his lips. “Enjoying yourself, Alma?”

“Yes!” She beams brightly as she straightens on her skates again, resting her palms on the railing next to his. “And I think the better question is if you’re having a good time, boss?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and sends her a warm smile. “Ruby shared her reefer earlier with me, so I’m good. Don’t worry about me, alright? Just enjoy yourself.”

“Alright,” Y/N accepts his answer, smiling, probably reckoning he’s in a better mood now than this morning.  

“Hey, uh, I heard from some of the girls that Benny asked you out,” Dean brings up and clears the obnoxious lump in his throat. “You know, I can talk to him if he makes you uncomfortable?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. It’s fine, really,” she brushes him off.

“So what, you’re actually thinking about fucking that guy?” Dean’s brow furrows, throat tightening. Oh, he so doesn’t like this universe. Why would she even consider going out with that dirtbag if he’s right here and waiting for her?

Y/N narrows her eyes, the creases showing a bit of anger as she crosses her arms over her shirt. “What? No! No one said anything about sleeping with him. It’s just a harmless date,” she defends, averting her sour look to the parquet.

“Good,” Dean grits, trying his hardest to swallow all the furious jealousy down, and smacks his lips. “‘Cause it’s against the rules, y’know?”

“Right, the rules,” she scoffs a sarcastic chuckle and grimly meets his gaze, a few angry tears brimming in her orbs. “I’m not a slut, you know.”

Dean’s heart fucking free-falls to his boots, his pupils widening in shock. “Y/N, no, I never said-… Of course, you’re not,” he splutters, vividly shaking his head, and sees her shoulders lose a bit of tension, seemingly believing him. It hurts him that she’d even think that. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just-… those guys I hired aren’t exactly top-shelf. You can do a lot better than that. They’re all sleazy, alright? I mean, Benny shot porn before this. Did he tell you that?”

Her brow crinkles. “He did?”

Dean nods heavily. “Oh, yeah. You don’t wanna be porn girl again, do you?”

“No, guess not.” She pouts and lets out a deep sigh.

God, he’s a genius. Can you hear him triumphantly cackling on the inside? He can play her like a fiddle. Although Dean does feel a little guilty now. He doesn’t want her to be unhappy, quite the opposite actually, so he sighs as well and scratches the back of his neck. “But, hey, if you still wanna go out with him, I’m not gonna stand in your way, alright? Promise.”

He supposes he can endure one harmless date. They’re probably going to bore each other to death, anyway. It’s a test, a trust fall. Dean knows she’ll come to her senses and run into his arms eventually. Right? Right…

“No, it’s fine.” Y/N sighs and offers him a soft smile, soothing his heartache.

“You know, uh, Claire missed hanging out with you last week. Would be great if you could stop by some time again for dinner,” Dean mentions with a not-so-subtle clear of his throat. He probably shouldn’t use his kid like that, but Claire actually does miss her, so it’s only half a lie.

“Sure you didn’t miss me a little, too?” Y/N teases him, a mischievous smile adorning her bubblegum lips.

Choking lightly, he swallows, unconvincingly shaking his head. “Nope. Didn’t even notice you were gone, to be honest. Unlike you, I do have a life outside of this show.”

Y/N bites back a snort, nodding. “Yeah, I know. Well… I missed hanging out with you.”

“Oh.” Dean’s raised brow reaches his hairline, something she seems to find quite amusing, judging by her cute little giggle. “Well, hey, if you want, we can hang out tonight? The Griffith is putting on a Pink Floyd laser show. You always said you wanted to go. Pretty sure Ruby has some acid in her limo for a nice trip,” he proposes with a cheeky wink.

“It’s Meg’s birthday, Dean. We can hang out at the pool party tonight and go next week,” she suggests, and Dean knows she doesn’t want to leave her friend alone, which he sort of gets, although he wishes he wouldn’t.  

Jesus fuck, when did he become so soft and understanding? Caring is fucking annoying.

“C’mon, ditch the lame party,” Dean encourages her, his lopsided smile almost convincing enough as she hesitantly nibbles on her lower lip. “Come be a rebel without a cause with me, huh? Be the Judy to my Jim, Wood to my Dean.”

“Tempting,” Y/N laughs. “Especially since I played Maria in West Side Story back in Omaha. God, I love Natalie Wood.”

“Not the least bit surprised,” Dean chuckles. Why does she have to be so fucking adorable? It’s not fair.

“But we both know we can’t leave Meg alone with the wayward sisters, or she might tear them apart.”

“Y/N!” On cue, Meg clumsily rolls to her on skates and seeks balance on her shoulders, hazel eyes wide and frightened. “Charlie wants me to blow out candles. I don’t like fire.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N soothes and squeezes wolf girl’s hand. “We do it together, alright? I’ll be right next to you. It’s nice and fun. Promise.” As she shoos Meg back towards the other girls, Y/N spins around one last time and finds his waiting green eyes. “Uh, sorry, De… Raincheck, okay? We’ll hang out tonight, though.”

“Sure.” Dean nods resolutely and sends her an understanding smile.

The roller rink is so fun!

Y/N can’t remember the last time she was in one of these places, but it was surely back in high school. A night she probably spent talking and laughing with Jo because they were still thick as thieves back then.

God knows Y/N could use a real friend right now. While she’s certainly close with the other girls, Meg and Donna being her closest, she’s not sure if she can entirely confide in them – not about her night with Dean a month ago, at least. Jo had always been the one she talked to about her boy problems. And now, Y/N feels alone and lost in a maze of wrong choices and bad ideas.

Her thoughts have wandered back to that night with Dean many times since then, her mind always ending up more conflicted than before. The predominant fear of ruining everything she’s worked so hard for makes her stop in her tracks every time. Sure, it’s just one single fuck. Who gives a shit? Nothing bad can happen, right?

Ha, yeah, Y/N almost believed and fell for that old trick again, too.

What she truly needs is a cleanse. She needs to get the director out of her goddamn system, which is why a date with Benny would seem like a good idea. But he also works with her, which screams complications, especially since she’s not really interested in dating someone in all seriousness. She doesn’t want to date any guy right now, and if she did, her choice would still land on Dean, which is an insanely bad idea as well.

Dean’s not exactly Prince Charming, unless Charming was twice divorced and had a severe drinking and drug problem. Still, she finds herself attracted to him, to his body, his mind, and his entire being. Dean is a magnetic field she can’t fight or tear herself away from. One thing’s sure, though, nun life ain’t it. Nun life only leads to desperation, which leads to bad decisions. Bad decisions like the director.

Y/N believes all she needs right now is easy, simple peacefulness, not wild, passionate chaos. And Dean’s definitely a whirlwind of chaos.

Whenever she imagined her dream guy, the one she’d marry, he’d be some nice man, maybe managing a Radio Shack somewhere and tinkering on little inventions in the garage. He’d be more like her dad, who loves to listen to country music while driving his pick-up and openly shows kindness wherever and whenever he can. Her dream guy would’ve held open doors, known how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ or ‘bless you’ when she sneezed.

Dean’s not exactly that guy. On the contrary, he’s actually the complete opposite. And yet, she’s never been more attracted to a man her whole life. But what would her life even look like with him by her side? Not to mention, she’s not even sure the director would ever want a real relationship with her that goes beyond sex. The idea alone even sounds silly. Utterly ridiculous.

After Meg reluctantly blew out her candles, the women chatted and laughed for a while. Missouri forced Y/N to eat two slices of red velvet cake while Ruby leaned against her shoulder and whined about being so constipated she wasn’t sure she could shove a dick up there, too. All in all, it was a pretty typical evening for the girls before they started to pack up and decided to move the party to the motel pool.

As Y/N slips into her white sneakers and ties her shoelaces on a bench, the opening notes of ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! begin flowing through the speakers, just as Get Down Tonight has run its course, and the flashy disco lights turn from pink to midnight blue. The scarred actress, on the other hand, refuses to make a little love and get down tonight, and please, for the love of God, don’t give her more fucking men…

But just as she thinks of her demons, one of them approaches her with a smile.

“Hi, cher.” Benny gives her a nod, his cheeks blushing and blue eyes sparkling. Honestly, no matter what Dean has tried to sell her, the camera operator still seems like a nice and decent guy. Besides, it’s a little hard to find a man in Hollywood without a few flaws. “I can give you a ride back to the motel if you’d like?”

“Oh, uhm–”

“Not necessary,” Dean cuts in like lightning with a sharp tone and an even sharper look as he suddenly appears next to her, startling her on the bench so much so that she almost jumps out of her skin. God, where did he even come from? Was he behind her this whole time? “I’m taking her,” the director announces, his scathing look ensuring he left no room for discussions.

“Why don’t we just let the lady decide for herself who she wants to ride with, chief?” Benny challenges his employer.

Y/N momentarily forgets how to breathe as she watches the two men. Are they fighting over her? That has never happened to her before, and she can’t understand for the life of her why it’s happening right now. She’s not that special, and frankly, she feels like she’s in the middle of a Mexican cock fight, only there are no actual chickens or roosters in this one. Yet, she can’t help the heat that spreads through her cheeks. Who wouldn’t feel flattered by two good-looking men fighting over one’s attention?

And admittedly, Dean staring Benny down, with a deathly glare that could murder entire villages, does unspeakable things to her, his defined jawline clenched and his throbbing muscles ripe with tension. She squeezes her thighs together, hoping the wetness that pools in her panties won’t trickle down her legs and draw unwanted attention. She doesn’t know if it’s raging jealousy or sweet protectiveness or whatever the hell it is that has the director so wound up, but it’s definitely a new form of kryptonite for her.

Think of your job, think of your career, think about the girls…

“You wanna ride with me, sweetheart?” Dean holds out his palm, an irresistible smile on his ample lips.

God, she wants to say yes to him so fucking badly. What the hell is she supposed to do? As her dad would say, “The Lord’s testing you today, baby girl.”  

“Hey, Y/N? Wanna ride back with me?” Jo’s heavenly voice pipes up as she appears out of nowhere, glowing like her guardian angel. Y/N releases the breath she’s been holding in, staring lost between the two men. “Figured we could talk a little,” the blonde smiles.

“Yeah, uh, I’d love to,” Y/N instantly accepts the life buoy and pulls herself back to shore, her lungs filling with fresh air.

“Don’t you have a fucking baby to go home to?” Dean bites and narrows his eyes at her former friend, whereas Benny has already given up completely and accepted it won’t be happening.

“Don’t you have a teenager to go home to?” Jo retorts, unfazed by Dean’s scowl.

“Nope, she’s right here,” Dean smirks triumphantly and thumbs to a dark corner of the rink where Claire is violently making out with her boyfriend, close to dry-humping each other in public.

“Oh, yeah, you completely seem to have that under control,” Jo deadpans with a roll of her hazel eyes and then links her arm with her former best friend’s, dragging her towards the exit. “Alright, we’ll see you losers later.”

Y/N sends Dean an apologetic shrug over her shoulder. He mirrors her gesture and licks his lips, his chest looking a bit deflated.

“Figured you could use the help. You looked the same way when Artie Ketch asked you to dance at our junior prom. You made that face again,” Jo lists her reasons for her heroics as the women reach the parking lot.

Y/N smiles gratefully, a familiar warmth she’s known since childhood spreading in her gut. “Thank you.”

Jo matches her smile and bashfully shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

Part 18 – I Hate Myself For Loving You

Hope you enjoyed the first part of this batch! Chapters are a little longer this time around, but then there’s only four either, so I guess it all evens out. See you tomorrow for the next one and please lemme know all your precious thoughts! 🤩🖤

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @deans-spinster-witch @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127 @samanddeansannoyingsis @fictional-affairs @sarasolros​

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

 The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

  I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

  “Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

  “Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

  “Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

  “Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

  “You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

  “That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

  “Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

  “You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

  Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

  “It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out. 

****

  Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

  “Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door. 

  “You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

  My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

  “Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

  I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

  Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

 “I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

  “Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end. 

  “Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

  “Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

  “Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds. 

****

 A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

  “I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.” 

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

  “Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

  “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth. 

  “Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

  “Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

  “Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

  “We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?” Dean asks.

  “He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask.   “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically.   “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

  “They have it,” John announces.

  “‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

  “If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

  “The gun–why?” Sam pushes.   “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons. 

  “They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful.   “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

  “You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

  “You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

  “Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

  I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is. 

  “You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.”   “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers. 

  “Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

  “The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

  “Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

  “Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

  “Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips. 

  My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

  I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement. 

  “What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

  “How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him. 

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

 The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly. 

  “Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you. 

  “Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds.   “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad. 

  “It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed. 

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

  “We are,” John answers vaguely.

  “How do you know?” 

  John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.” 

  Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

  “It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.” 

  “Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.” 

  I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

  “What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

  The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

  “I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

  “It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow.   “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

  “What?”

  Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out. 

  “Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

  “Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

  “It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing. 

  “Oh God,” Dean mumbles. 

  “He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

  Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

  “He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons.   “What reason?” Sam pushes.

  “Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”   “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?” 

  A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

 We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

  “Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

  “Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

  “How?” 

  “I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

  Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

  “What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

  “We need to talk.”

  John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

  “About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

  “Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

  “You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds.   “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!”   “Get back in the car.”   “No.”   “I said get back in the damn car.”   “Yeah. And I said no.”

  “Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.”  “What’d you say?”

  Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

  “Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “You walked away!” John yells in his face.

  “Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps.   “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

  Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!”   They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

  With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

  “Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

  “So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

  “Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked. 

  Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

  “So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks.   “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

  It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

  Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

  “Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

  “Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

  I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

  “You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

  “Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

  “Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

  “Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn. 

  I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions. 

  I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor. 

  Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

  I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

  I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

  By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

  “Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it. 

  The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die. 

  “They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath.   “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

  I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

  “No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

  “Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

  “You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

  “No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.” 

  “You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

  “Dean—”

  “Not on my watch.”   “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away. 

  “Not happening.”

  “Don’t you want that gun?”

  He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

  “I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

  “I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue.   His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

  The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

 “We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

  After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

  Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

  I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly. 

  Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.” 

  And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

  Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth. 

  She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

  “Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

  Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

  I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

  The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

  Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

  “That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face. 

  “‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

  “Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

  “Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

  “Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

  “She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.”   “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers.   “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

  “But…”

  “Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

  “I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

  “That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

  “And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

  “I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

  “‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

  “But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like children,” Sam answers firmly.   “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away.   “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him.   “Excuse me?”

  I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”   “It's not the same thing, Dean.”   “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”   “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.”   “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

  “Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

  I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives.   “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

  Sam nods.

  “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit.  “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

  We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

  We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

  Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

  Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter. 

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

  I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

  “You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers.   “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

  “You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods.   “I am?”

  “It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.”   “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

  “And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

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[sukaibg]

He's precious 😩♥️

Dean x fem!reader “Promise you won’t laugh!” Your voice came from behind the door.

“What? Why would I laugh?” he asked, perplexed at the request.

“I don’t know… I feel—I feel stupid… I’m not used to this!” 

“Well, it’s just for the case… but I don’t know why you would feel stupid,” Dean said, pacing in front of your door impatiently.

“I’m just used to wearing flannels and jeans, I guess,” you said. You took one more glance in the mirror and sighed, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You turned and opened the door and stepped into the hallway, walking as carefully as you could in the high heels.  Dean’s eyes went wide and he not so subtly looked you up and down. “Whoa…”

Your face flushed. “Dean!”

“Uhh—” he laughed awkwardly. “No… I mean… I meant that in a good way, because… wow.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously. “I’m a little jealous of this guy, even though I know it’s not a real date and all for surveillance…”

Your cheeks were warm and flushed. “Shush,” you scolded him, looking down at the floor length gown.

“I’m not kidding. You look—I—you look amazing. I—wow.” He laughed nervously again. Shit, why couldn’t he play it cool around you? “Maybe next time I could, you know, just go with you instead…”

You smiled at him a little abashedly. “That would be better. This guy gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, on second thought—maybe this isn’t the best plan.”

“Well you and Sam will be right outside, right?” you said.

“Yeaaaah, but… I don’t like it. Wonder if I can find a tux by tonight…” Prompt: “Promise you won’t laugh!”

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Flirting (And Jealousy)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @lacilou. And surprise! For the first time, I'm trying out adding Russell Shaw to the lineup because I thought he'd be an interesting addition for this prompt. 💜

Prompt: How would Dean, Ben & Beau react to either other men flirting with us or them obliviously/cluelessly letting other women flirt with them? And how we would react to them -- like how they'd make it up to us, their excuses, etc.

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, oblivious flirting, unwanted advances, jealousy, some toxic masculinity (you know Ben 🙄), but ultimately lots of fluff, and some spice too.~

Dean Winchester

Dean isn't one to get jealous...at first.

He knows you're hot as hell. He pretty much expects guys to try and shoot their shot.

Plus, he's secure enough in his relationship with you to know you wouldn't consciously entertain someone who's flirting with you.

He also knows you're strong enough to take care of yourself, even with a persistent asshole.

However.

The second a man gets into your face or tries to put his hands on you, Dean's stepping in -- either to twist the man's arm nearly out of its socket, or deliver a swift punch between the eyes, or his personal favorite, grabbing the back of the guy's neck and slamming his face onto the counter.

Dean finds the sound of bone breaking against varnished wood, followed closely by the heavy tripping thud of a body to the floor, deeply satisfying.

You heave a sigh. Not because you're all that annoyed at Dean, but because you tried to warn the guy.

Now, Dean knows he used to be...well, a "ladies man," putting it mildly. He's improvised more panty-dropping one-liners than a Magic Mike stripper. His success rate is 9-and-10 (because there's always room for improvement).

He directs all that flirtatious, playful, sexual energy on you. He's fallen for you, committed to you, and once he makes a decision with his heart, Dean Winchester doesn't have an unfaithful bone in his body.

However.

He can't altogether stop women from flirting with him. Like at one of the many diners you, Sam, and Dean stop to eat at after a hunt.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" the waitress says. She brushes her hand up his arm and squeezes his shoulder, giving Dean a too-bright smile that leaves nothing to the imagination (at least to you).

He smiles back at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

It's like a reflex. He thinks he's being polite. He doesn't even follow the path of her hip-swaying walk with his eyes -- like he certainly would've before he met you.

You still stare at Dean incredulously. When the woman walks away, he smiles at you as if nothing happened. Sam wisely keeps to himself and sips his beer, hiding a smirk.

Dean notices the way your lips are pursed, bitchface activated. "What?" he asks.

You cross your arms. "Really?"

He frowns. "What's the matter?"

"Really. You need me to tell you not to let that woman eye-fucking you to put her hands all over you?" You shake your head. More dryly you add, "Right in front of me, too. I gotta give it to her, she's got brass balls."

Dean is bewildered, but then he replays the moment in his head and realizes that you're right. He kinda fucked up.

He sees the way you're getting all testy, and he has to chuckle.

"Okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. My bad."

He reaches for your hand and manages to uncross your arms. You're stubborn in your irritation, but Dean is the king of persuasion, giving you teasing, flirty bedroom eyes and waggling brows as he pulls you towards him.

If you're still reluctant to soften, he adds, "Come on, don't be a sourpuss. Come 'ere."

Eventually he breaks you, making you laugh and hit his arm with no real force behind it.

Even Sam shakes his head, seeing how his brother manages to pacify you by sliding his arm around your shoulders across the booth. Dean leans in and kisses along your neck. He inhales your scent and hums in pleasure.

Sam clears his throat. He has to awkwardly look away.

"Gonna forgive me?" Dean asks, his lips moving against your skin. "Though I gotta admit, I kinda like it when you're jealous. All growly and fiesty. Got myself a little tiger."

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug at a smile. Your face warms in a blush, especially as his hand wanders under your jacket and teasingly up your side.

You slip your fingers into his hair, making sure to give a sharp little tug on it for good measure. He just laughs.

Oh, you'll forgive him, but maybe you'll make him do a little more penance when you all get back home.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a jealous man from the onset when a man flirts with you.

His lips purse, his jaw clicks, and he keeps a firm eye on the situation. He doesn't like it.

But to his credit, he tries not to act on it right away, letting you handle it the way you want to.

However, like Dean, the moment someone gets into your personal space or tries to touch you, he's pulling out some Sheriff moves.

If the man grabs at you, Beau's got his arm twisted behind his back so fast, he can almost feel ligaments popping. Beau gives a calm, but firm warning before sending the guy on his way. (He'd like to do more, but the department frowns on excessive violence.)

Maybe part of you gets annoyed at the show of jealousy, but a larger part of you can't help but be turned on when he protects you. You know it's not because he thinks you need protecting, but because he wants to.

"Can't help it, darlin'," he's said. "It's just how I was raised."

But you're the one that bristles when Danielle, a PTA mom at Emily's school, flirts with him. She laughs at his corny jokes with her white teeth and her perfectly layered and coiffed blonde hair.

She even gives him an extra cookie from her offering at the school's bake sale. (She knows what most of this town knows -- that the way to the Sheriff's heart is all too often through his stomach.)

Beau just nods along, smiling polite with that charming grin of his, totally oblivious while he eats. The last straw for you is when she wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth falls open in shock. "Are you shitting me?"

You accidentally say it out loud, earning not only your boyfriend's surprised look, but Danielle's guilty one as well. (And some of the kids.)

Blushing in embarrassment, you pivot on your heel and start packing up your supplies for the bake sale.

That's when Beau realizes that he fucked up.

He politely excuses himself from Danielle and goes to help you (wiping the crumbs off his face and licking chocolate off his thumb). He can tell you're feeling more than a little icy towards him, but he tries to make up for it by doing all the heavy lifting, bringing back things to the car, and helping you with the bags before he calls Emily over.

It's a long car ride home, awkward and tense. Emily can tell something's off between you and her dad, but when she asks about it, you claim nothing's wrong.

Beau knows better.

He waits until the three of you get home to the apartment you share with him, and after putting the bake sale stuff away, he follows you into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart--"

"What the hell was that, Beau?" You come in hot with it, and Beau is quick to try and ease your tension with an apology.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you see that she was eyeing you like a honey-glazed ham?"

Beau's lips twitch at a grin, but you're not amused. You cross your arms and give him a warning look. That's when he wises up.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." He chances taking a few slow steps towards you, raising his brows and keeping his hands up in surrender.

You eye him narrowly, but you let him get close enough to slip his arms around you. He gathers you against his chest and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"I mean it. Won't happen again," he promises. His hands mold to the curve of your waist and squeeze gently. His lips move, burning a sweet path along your jawline, your chin, over the apple of your cheeks, and finally your lips. You breathe into it, and you can't help but cling to the front of his buttoned-down shirt.

"Do me a favor," you say quietly between kisses. "Don't eat Danielle's cookies."

Beau smiles against your lips. "Don't you worry, darlin'. From now on, I'll tell her that I've got some good cookie at home."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, Ben doesn't fuck around.

...Well, in the sense that he can't tolerate another man even looking at you flirtatiously, or otherwise with any kind of intent.

Depending on the severity, at best, it'll have Ben shooting the man a stony look of warning.

At worst, it ruins the day -- namely with the sound of bone snapping and a man's sobbing howl of pain.

You try to get him to tone it down ("For God's sake, Ben. It's fine. Just relax."), but this is one thing he well and truly doesn't budge on.

Ben is possessive. Because you're his. His to touch, and his to protect.

In his mind, it's fucking simple.

Whenever you get irritated with this brutish, knuckle-dragging, caveman mentality, you try to remember why he does it.

It's indicative of how much he actually cares about you.

Because if he didn't, he wouldn't really give a shit if other men were flirting with you. (He'd just find another woman to try and charm back to his apartment.)

So you've learned how to try and finesse these situations so that Ben doesn't notice.

You've also stopped letting down men easy, proverbially cutting off their dick and balls with your words.

Because it's quite literally to save their dumbass life.

But when other women flirt with Ben, he takes it all with indulgent smiles, throwing in a wink and a sweetheart every now and then.

He doesn't blame them for flirting with him, checking him out. He's Soldier Boy, after all, and in his mind, it's not his fault they can't help themselves around him.

However, a smile and a wink is all that he allows himself.

If he truly cares about you (and though he doesn't often express it in words, he does), then the unfamiliar twinge of guilt stops him whenever he almost accepts a woman's alluring invitation--spoken or unspoken.

His mouth might spew arrogance and gilded lies, but his actions too often betray what he really feels.

And what he really feels can't be any more clear than when he goes after you, instead of indulging the woman who basically undressed him with her eyes, whispered sultry, sexy offerings in his ear, and invited him to go home with her.

Seeing you take off out the double doors of the club, Ben rolls his eyes. He brushes the woman off without a backwards glance, and follows you out into the night air. He grabs your hand before you can get far in your heels.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he asks dryly.

You turn on him with an incredulous look.

"That woman was practically sucking your neck, Ben!"

"All right, don't fucking overreact. You're getting hysterical," he says, before guiding you back into his arms.

"I'm not fucking hysterical, you ass!" You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge, nor does he let you go. This isn't a good area, and he doesn't want you out in these streets at this time of night without him at your side.

"Ben," you say sharply. You look up at him in irritation, but he just smirks and strokes your side with his thumb.

Yes, (in his mind) you're being a little difficult, but he thinks your jealousy is amusing, adorable, and kind of hot all at the same time.

Ben doesn't bother with saying anything more to convince you. He just slips a hand behind your neck and kisses you soundly.

He invades your mouth with his tongue and devours you, reminding you that you're the one he wants.

He waylays you with his strong hands framing your body against his, and with his sinful mouth, until you finally melt into his embrace.

He's chosen you countless time before, and he knows he'll keep choosing you, for as long as this lasts.

Russell Shaw

Russell always clocks the "situation" right away when a man starts to flirt with you.

He's not one to make a scene of it at first, depending on the time and place.

But he is quick to sidle up to your side, pointedly slip a hand along your waist, and greet you with a deceptive smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Let's grab that table over there. 'S more comfortable than the bar."

He glances up at the man, sharpness hidden well behind his green eyes. Whether the guy picks up on it or not, Russell is making a mugshot in his mind -- and he never forgets a face.

You eye him knowingly, but you let him guide you away. He's kind of cute when he's jealous, and it doesn't take much to spark that well of protectiveness that lies in wait just under his skin.

Russell isn't easily fazed by most things, but one sure way to provoke his temper (and those rougher, darker shades of him that he tries his best not to show you) is for a man to push his luck with you.

It really wouldn't take much effort at all for the former soldier to have a man clutching his bloody, shattered nose, let alone to dump his broken body in front of the closest hospital. But somehow, Russell manages to curb those darker urges. (Again, don't tempt him.)

But when another woman flirts with him, you're the one who starts to have steam coming out of your ears.

Russell doesn't miss much. He recognizes the sultry inflection in the woman's words. He catches the subtle, sensuous gleam in her eyes when she rakes him up and down with them.

He also notes the moment you look over and realize what's happening.

Regardless if you're looking or not, he tries his best to stay distant, but polite, even as a warning twinge of "aww shit" runs up his spine.

He tries to play things off with an amiable smile and being purposefully oblivious.

Until the woman gets bold, slipping her hand over Russell's and up his arm a bit, before she withdraws, tilting her head with a sweet-as-pie smile.

Cue Russ's awkward laugh/clearing of the throat. Before he has time to fully pull away and just come out with the, Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend -- you return to his side and pointedly grab his hand.

"Come on, honey, we'll be late," you say, giving him a tense smile.

The aww shit feeling is back, but Russell just nods and falls into step with you.

When you two have enough privacy to hash it out, you let him have it.

"What the hell was that?!"

Russell can't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to keep it classy, but that woman was persistent. Not that I blame her--"

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes (not that you really blame her either). Then you stare at your man in annoyance, crossing your arms. "I didn't see you trying all that hard to fend her off, huh, Romeo? If another man had touched me like that, you would've broken his fingers off, like a fucking caveman."

Russell's brows raise at the dig, but the way you're getting all testy is kind of cute (and also kinda hot).

"All right. You got me there," he says. He slips his arms around your waist and tries to soften you with a charming grin. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Do I?" you blurt out, before you have a chance to reign it back in.

Russell's contract jobs take him all over the country -- all over the world. Yes, he's on his way out, he claims. He wants to settle down with you, or so he says.

But you have no idea of knowing what he does when he's not with you.

All those days out on the road, crashing in skeevy motels, winding down at dive bars -- has he ever been tempted to "sample" the local fare? Has he ever...

Russell's amusement fades, sobering into a frown and a furrowing of his brows. He hums in disapproval. He doesn't like what he's seeing in your eyes: doubt, most of all.

"Hey," he says. It's a serious tone you don't often hear in his voice. He curls a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me, and listen good," he says. You frown at that, but he brushes his thumb across your cheek, a small, but tender caress. "You and me, we've got something good. I know what that means. So you can believe me when I say, I'm in this. I'm right here, even when I'm not here."

And he smiles at you. "That make sense?"

Slowly, you start to smile too. "Not really," you laugh.

But it does. You know what he's trying to say, and...you believe him. Your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

Tentatively, you lean up and press your lips to his; just a sweet, slow meeting.

Russell cups your cheek and leans in for a deeper taste, a deeper conviction of every word he just said.

I love you, is what it really means, even if he's not able to say that just yet.

AN: 😮‍💨 Well, there we go! lol I love me a protective man. 💜 Hope you enjoy this set of headcanons!

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[little-diable]

Mine to Claim - Dean Winchester (smut)

While I'm still wondering if I should write for James Beaufort, I decided to run with the enemies to lovers theme for Dean. I know y'all love jealous Dean as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader wants Sam to have a nice birthday, but all she can focus on is Dean, the man she had always sworn to hate, the man who gets all possessive as soon as somebody else finds her interesting enough to chat her up.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, thigh riding, full on jealous Dean, Dean's a bit of a dick in the beginning, possessiveness, fluffy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 4k words)

“A party? And who should we invite, huh?” Dean’s voice filled the library. He had his feet placed on the table, arms crossed in front of his chest while nursing his second beer of the night. 

(Y/n) had her eyes focused on the laptop, typing away as she tried to pierce ideas together to celebrate Sam’s birthday. But while she was set on putting something special together, trying to trap the man she couldn’t stand into helping her, Dean could only give room to annoying comments. 

“How about some werewolves, vampires maybe or a wendigo to make this exciting!” Sarcasm dripped from Dean’s words, leaving her groaning as she finally looked at the handsome Winchester brother. The two of them had never been fans of one another, but while (y/n) generally tried to keep her distance, Dean was set on annoying her at any given chance. She had lost count of the dates he had ruined for her, the friendships she had tried to build but had been torn down by him, no matter what she tried to do, Dean was always right there to cross her plans.

“Have you always been such an asshole or have you just not outgrown your teenager phase yet?” She shifted her weight onto her forearms while staring at Dean as if he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. His eyes had a twinkle to them as he mimicked her movements, taking his feet off the table to lean further towards her. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, we both know you enjoy our dynamic more than you let others believe. You have never been good at hiding your crush on me.” The angry scoff clawing through (y/n) forced a chuckle out of Dean, who looked at her as if he had just goaled a win. Whenever he managed to rile her up, to get her angrier by the second, his smirk would grow as if he was proud of himself for getting under her skin like that. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” She rose to her feet, unexpectedly to Dean who now studied her with confusion laced in his gaze. “I’ll just take Sam out for dinner, anywhere without you near will be good enough.” 

(Y/n) tried to walk past him with angry tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t manage to get far, forced to a halt by the hand clamping down on her wrist. Dean stared up at her with an unreadable expression, shooting shudders down her spine while she tried to rip herself free. Something inside of her told her that he was close to apologising, urged on by the guilt he may feel, but the moment passed within seconds, forcing his smirk back to his lips.

“Dream of me tonight, sweetheart. But first, tell me, do you still sleep in my shirt?” The angry huff clawing through her made Dean chuckle, watching her rip herself free before storming out of the room. Her heart was aching in her chest, pounding against her ribs while her feet carried her towards her room. 

With her laptop tossed onto her bed, (y/n) allowed her tears to fall, urged on by her anger and confusion, torn between the way she had always detested Dean and the silent longing for him and his closeness. God, she hated him, hated him more than words could ever express, and yet a small, fucked up part of her wanted him and every part of him. 

It was time to finally get over Dean Winchester and the confusing emotions he pushed through her. 

……

“Thank you for this, (y/n). This is by far the best birthday I ever had.” Sam squeezed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a proud grin. She shot Sam another smile before she let her gaze wander, finding Dean’s frame. Even though she had tried to lure Sam away from his brother, knowing that the night wouldn’t end well if she and Dean would have to spend it together, Sam had begged her to take his brother with them, ending up at this very bar.

“Let me get you another beer, birthday boy. I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/n) rose to her feet with an unwavering smile, pushing past a few people to reach the bar. Music rang in her ears, not loud enough to leave her body buzzing, yet just enough to distract her from her wandering thoughts. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice forced her attention away from the bartender, waiting for her to make her way towards (y/n). A guy was standing close to her, he was a bit taller than her, a handsome face she smiled at. “Is that your boyfriend?”

He tilted his head towards Sam, leaving her chuckling as (y/n) shook her head no. A relieved smile managed to find its way to the guy’s lips, he was visibly relaxing while taking a step closer. Even though her body begged her to chase the distance, her mind urged her to stay right where she was, reminding her of her promise to finally find a distraction from Dean Winchester.

“Are you from around here?” She kept her voice quiet as she studied the guy, the plaid shirt he wore and those dark jeans that had a similar touch to the ones Dean currently wore. For a second, she let her eyes wander, not paying attention to the words the guy spoke, but Dean was nowhere to be found, disappearing from her sight. 

“It’s my friend’s birthday today, so I’ll have to get back to him.” (Y/n) mumbled while she shot the guy another smile. She turned towards the bartender to speak her order before the guy could gain her attention again, with his phone in his hand.

“Give me your number, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something?” The soft chuckle leaving her made him smile, watching her type her number into his phone before reaching for the two bottles of beer. She took a step away from him, with her gaze still focused on him, but the second she turned away, (y/n) stumbled into a broad chest, having to tighten her grasp on the bottles before she could drop them. 

Wide eyes found a pair of familiar green ones, getting lost in the darkening pupils for a moment or two. Dean’s jaw muscles were ticking in anger as his gaze flickered between (y/n) and the guy she had been talking to. It took her a moment to rip herself out of her frozen state before she tried to push past Dean, though without any luck. 

“What did he want from you?” Dean’s voice had something to it she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her insides churning; something that left her straightening her spine. Her eyes wandered over his angry features, allowing her to take in his handsome features. If he weren’t such an asshole to her, she would have instantly fallen hard for him, begging the man for a chance to love him like he deserved to be loved. 

“That’s nothing of your concern, Dean. Let me go.” But Dean didn’t give in, he tightened his grip on her arm to pull her even closer. 

“Oh, but we both know that it is, sweetheart.” She couldn’t find a reply, the words were stolen right from her as his lips graced her warm cheek with his eyes set on the guy who was still watching the two. And with another squeeze of her arm, he finally let go of her, only to gently push her into Sam’s direction. 

……

She woke with a groan, forcing her eyes open to take in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, (y/n) rolled onto her side to reach for her phone, reading the time. It was in the middle of the night, only a few hours after they had found their way back home from the bar. 

Since that moment with Dean, (y/n) had been deep in thought, not understanding the way he had behaved at the bar. She crawled out of her bed with a sigh, set on grabbing a new glass of water to clear her thoughts. Still surrounded by darkness, she made her way to the kitchen, carried by tired limbs that begged her to make it back to bed. 

“I knew you were still stealing my shirts.” Dean’s voice left her jumping, ripping a squeal out of her as she turned towards him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes set on her frame. Heat rose to her features as she remembered that she was once again wearing a shirt of his, and nothing more. 

“You jerk, why do you always have to scare me like that?” He walked closer to her, allowing her to find his pupils. His chest was almost pushed against hers while he wordlessly stared down at (y/n). She was close to speaking up again, set on throwing another insult his way to get herself out of this situation before she could say or do something stupid. But the second his hands found her waist to heave her onto the cold kitchen island, she forgot every word she had planned to speak. 

“Did that guy call you?” His voice was raspy, making goosebumps appear on her exposed skin. (Y/n) could barely focus on his voice, distracted by the feeling of Dean lingering between her spread thighs and the way he grasped her hips with his big hands. 

“Maybe he did, so what?” His tongue kissed his teeth while he pondered over her words, staring at (y/n) with something she’d dream of for a while. It felt like heaven and hell were clashing, forcing them to balance a strong energy neither had felt before. It drew them closer with every passing second, growing between them while both could only endure its strength. 

“You’ll lose his number.” It was a simple command, words that drew a soft laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head no. A laugh that lost its strength as Dean’s big hand found her throat, forcing her to quiet down. Her pupils grew wider at the touch, drawing a shaky breath out of (y/n). “He’ll never have you.”

“And you will?” She could only whisper her question, words that left Dean smirking as he dipped his head down. He was close to kissing her, lips ghosting over hers while her heart picked up its beat. 

“We both know that I already have you.” With one last squeeze of her throat, Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting go of her. (Y/n) was at loss for words, could only watch him take another step away from her with his teeth buried in his grinning lower lip, front still turned in her direction. 

(Y/n) needed a handful of seconds before she snapped into motion, jumping off the metallic kitchen island to haul herself into his space, lips finding his with her arms wrapped around his neck. Dean instantly replied to the kiss with one hand placed on her waist and the other cupping the back of her head to keep her close. Their tongues met to deepen the kiss, leaving both groaning at the new sensation. 

“I belong to nobody and if you keep on being such an asshole to me, you’ll be the last person to ever have me.” She mumbled the words against his lips before pushing him away, leaving Dean breathless while she walked back to her room with a smile glued to her slightly swollen lips. 

……

Music filled her room, cozying (y/n) along while she was reading. It had been hours since her kiss with Dean, a memory that left her buzzing with nerves whenever her mind took her back to those minutes. She was proud of herself for finding the confidence at that time, for pushing him away after a kiss she longed to experience again. 

His lips had felt all too soft, a perfect kiss she had always read of in books but had never experienced herself–until that very moment. He had tasted of beer and home, a strange sensation she hadn’t been able to shake so far. 

A soft knock forced her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering towards her door to watch Dean step into the room. They hadn’t shared a single word since that kiss, while she had hid herself in her room, Dean had given her enough space to sort through the chaos both were stuck in now. 

He closed the door behind himself before walking towards her bed. (Y/n) could only watch as he plopped down on her bed, gently taking her book to place it on her nightstand before pulling her into his chest. She could hear his heart racing as both were laying there in silence. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” (Y/n) shifted on his chest, eyes finding his while he kept his hand placed on her side. He stayed quiet, seemingly deep in thought with his eyes set on the ceiling rather than her face. 

(Y/n) barely allowed herself to properly look at Dean, to take in the beauty of the man who made her feel the most confusing emotions imaginable. She wanted to count his freckles, every single one of them reminding her of a galaxy million of lightyears away, each telling its own story. She wanted to get lost in the green eyes reminding her of a forest that had seen the most gruesome things and yet still managed to offer a home to those needing shelter. She wanted to kiss those plush lips again that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“I,” he cleared his throat as if he was trying to rip himself out of a trap, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. “Somewhere along the way, since meeting you, I’ve realised that it’s much easier to rile you up, to annoy you and have you as an enemy rather than admit my feelings to you but also to myself. From the first day we met you at that diner, I knew I had found my match, the one who finally belongs to me. But fuck, my anxiety got the best of me, and I began spiralling. It was fucking immature of me, but I couldn’t stop, not as long as I couldn’t accept that I’ve loved you for years.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pondered over his confession, the words that cut deeper than she liked to admit. Dean’s thumb wiped away her falling tear while tightening his grip on her. Both were choked up, struggling to keep on speaking as silence engulfed them once again. The seconds kept fading by, moments she desperately needed to sort through her confusion, the words she wanted to speak but was unsure of. 

“And you’re ready to accept it now?” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, buzzing through her body like lightning set on burning holes into her skin. Dean’s hand stroked up her spine until he found the back of her neck, pressing (y/n) close to kiss her softly. It took her a few seconds to let her lips move, tongues meeting much slower than they had for their first kiss.

“If you’ll let me love you like you deserve to be loved, I am ready to accept it and fight for it.” A part of her knew that she should leave his side, kick him out of the room, and curse him for thinking she’d ever give him a chance, but the other, bigger part, begged her to give in, to finally grasp this chance she had silently hoped for whenever her anger turned into desperation and longings. 

“Kiss me, Dean.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her with one hand finding her cheek. It wasn’t a soft kiss, fuelled by unspoken emotions and longings, and yet both took their time to properly explore their newfound territory. Carefully, Dean pushed her off his chest to hover over her with one leg finding its way between her thighs.

They didn’t break the kiss as he softly pressed his thigh against her heat, drawing a moan from (y/n) at the sudden contact. Heat buzzed through her body, down her spine and straight to her pulsing bundle. (Y/n) tried to push herself closer, moving with just enough strength to moan once again. 

“Can you make yourself cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Show me how much you need to be touched.” Her eyes found his stormy ones, getting lost in the rich colour for a second before a shaky exhale left her. (Y/n) pulled Dean down for another kiss while she moved against his thigh again, supported by him as he met her movements with more urgency.

Her body was burning, shaking from the excitement she couldn’t let go of; the anticipation pushing her towards the edge she’d fall from at least two times that day. Dean kissed his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that made her arch her back off the mattress. Goosebumps covered her body while she lost grip on reality, allowing her body to move without her mind’s guidance while searching for that high she could already feel creeping closer. 

“Such a good girl, look at how perfect you look, fuck, I can’t wait to see you all done with my cock buried inside of you.” He rasped the words against her ear, forcing (y/n)’s hands to find his forearms to hold on, clawing her fingernails into his skin. She was close already, about to let go with his name rolling off her tongue as the fabric offered just enough friction to make her gasp. 

His name rolled off her tongue as she came, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, toes curled. Dean could only stare down at her, mesmerised by the sight he’d take to the grave, forever remembering the first time he made her cum. With his lips meeting hers again, he managed to rip her out of her hazy daze, forcing her hands to move as they tugged on his shirt. 

They parted for a moment, allowing Dean to get rid of his shirt and his trousers, while she mimicked his movements, undressing herself with trembling fingers. Her mind was racing, leaving her buzzing as it slowly began to dawn on her what was about to happen, that she was about to let the man she had hated for years fuck her. 

“Tell me you want this as much as I do. I won’t touch you otherwise.” Dean’s murmured words made a smile widen on her lips. Even though she struggled to reply, eyes and mind fully focused on his naked body, the muscles she wanted to kiss, the cock that grew harder with every passing second, she parted her swollen lips. 

“I want you, Dean, mark me up.” With his grin glued to his lips, he watched her reach for a condom, rolling it down his cock to draw a soft groan from him. They held eye contact as he positioned himself on top of her, letting his fingers brush through her dripping slit for a moment before finally pushing into her. 

Groans and moans left the two at the new sensation, with her walls fluttering around him and his cock disappearing further and further inside of her. Dean pressed his forehead against hers as a deep exhale left her as if she needed to relax, to tell herself that everything was alright. He moved slowly, careful at first, giving (y/n) enough time to adjust while their bodies kept meeting with every thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Dean’s words drew a small chuckle out of (y/n). Her arms found their way around his neck, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin on their way up his neck. The second she found his roots to tug on them, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, set on leaving marks just like she had asked him to. 

She was about to moan his name, about to beg Dean to move faster, but the sound of her ringing phone forced her attention away from him. For a second, his pace began to falter, but then a smirk widened on his lips. 

“Who is it?” Her wide eyes found their way back to his. 

“The guy from the bar.” She was breathless, struggled to reply while a desperate whine left her. She needed Dean to move again, to push her closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

“Pick up.” Confusion was laced in her gaze as she watched Dean reach for the phone. He answered the call before he pushed it into her direction. They held eye contact as he began to move once again, fucking her even deeper than before.

“Hi, (y/n). I wanted to ask if you’re free tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.” (Y/n) struggled to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to give away what she and Dean were currently doing–even though Dean was clearly set on proving to the guy that she was now taken. 

“Hi, listen,” Dean’s thrust met her swollen spot the second she began speaking, drawing a moan from her she couldn’t bite down. Embarrassment was about to flush through her, widening her pupils while Dean’s smirk kept growing bigger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Another moan left her as Dean met that spot again and again, letting the phone fall from her hands while hoping that the guy would simply hang up. No longer could she care about anything but the way Dean fucked her, letting his fingers meet her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. 

“Cum for me, baby.” His lips met hers as she came, swallowing her moans while he fucked her through the sensation. (Y/n)’s body was buzzing, trembling beneath Dean as he searched his own high with fast thrusts that left her whimpering. He came with a groan moments later, thrown over the edge. 

“Fuck, that was something.” His husky words left her chuckling. She watched him roll off her to get rid of the condom before finding his way back to her bed. Dean’s warmth engulfed her, his arms pulled her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

“We still have to talk about all of this.” (Y/n) whispered words drew a hum from Dean, who found himself being pulled back into his hazy thoughts. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, I promise, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, studying the unreadable expression he wore. 

“As long as you keep touching me like that I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

[123passwort]

He does get jealous

You had resigned yourself to the fact that Dean simply didn't get jealous, that is until Garth being Garth hosts a get together for hunters and you run into one of your exes that you're still on good terms with.

Warnings: um cursing, mentions of sexual themes

So first and foremost you knew Dean loved you. There was not a sliver of a doubt in your mind to that man's devotion to you. You knew for a fact that he'd choose you over any other woman. Did that stop you from getting jealous? No.

No matter how hard you tried that little voice in your head would pop up rather it be on cases where witnesses would flirt a little too much or even just grabbing a bite to eat on the road where the waitress would let her eyes linger a little too hard on him.

Dean would always notice it of course. On cases he'd grab your arm to "pull you away and discuss the matter at hand" which normally consisted of a quick kiss and promises of what was to come later. Off of a hunt he'd have no qualms about pulling you into his lap in the middle of a diner to prove that he was taken no matter your blushing or Sam's groans of embarrassment.

The problem was he never got jealous. Ok yeah sometimes jealousy is a major red flag that you need to heed and run far away as fast as you can but a part of you started to wonder if maybe he just didn't register to be jealous over you?

You woke up and reached for Dean smiling to yourself when his hands met yours halfway pulling you into his arms. "Morning sweetheart" he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

You placed a kiss to his chest "Good morning. Don't forget we have to leave here around ten to make it to Garth's in time" you couldn't help but laugh lightly when he groaned "Why are we doing this again?"

You pulled away from him just enough to lean up slightly to look at his face. A steady sprinkling of stubble covered his jawline and although his eyes were closed you knew he was tracking your every movement "Because hunters are always going to exist and its our job to make sure the next poor saps that get yanked into this life have a better system. C'mon baby Jody, Donna and all the girls will be there. Eileen is meeting us there, Kenzie is coming with Alicia and Max. It'll be fun. A weekend with people in the life just getting to catch our breath and catch up with people we haven't seen in a while"

When his response was a simple "mhh" you raised an eyebrow before adding "Bobby would be proud of it" he opened one eye to look at you but his gaze immediately went to where the sheet had slipped down off your chest leaving your breasts peeking out "If you weren't so damn gorgeous and right about this I may argue about going" a smile slipped onto your face "I love you too Dean"

He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head "It's seven thirty" you nodded slowly "Yeah" he reached out to gently grab your chin "We don't have to leave until ten?" You nodded again, eyes never leaving his. "So we have time"

"For what?" You asked innocently enough despite knowing exactly where his mind was. One of his hands dipped underneath the sheet and you gasped when you felt his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh "We have time for me to show my girl how much I love her" you pretended to consider it until his fingers went higher demanding your full attention when the first digit slipped through your folds "Fuck Dean" you whispered before a grin split his face "Exactly my idea"

"A lot more people showed up then Garth figured would" you leaned up at Sam's words because you knew him well enough to recognize a laugh being buried. What was so funny?

You looked at the cars parked around and about. There was Jody's suv, Donna's truck and the twins' car. There were more vehicles you recognized but weren't quite as familiar with. You were about to question Sam when you followed his line of vision and spotted Sawyer's bronco parked next to Eileen's car.

Sawyer was one of your exes. A hunter as well and someone you'd still consider a friend. You hadn't seen him in a few years but you felt a bit of excitement at getting to catch up. "Oh I didn't know Saw would be here" you spoke with a grin as Dean pulled baby to a stop. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek "C'mon. Let's go socialize"

----------

Dean had recognized that damn bronco the moment he turned into the clearing reserved for parking next to the cabins. Sawyer Monroe. A pretty decent hunter if he had to be honest and the only guy you'd ever dated before him that you wouldn't knock out on sight.

Thinking about it he wasn't sure you'd ever mentioned exactly why you and Sawyer had split. Hell you'd known him and Sam for years meaning he knew how you'd once felt about Sawyer. You'd even talked to Bobby about the guy.

Seeing the grin on your face when you spotted his bronco made something pull in Dean's chest. He wasn't jealous, no you were with him. You were a woman that knew what you wanted and wouldn't accept anything else. Yet trailing behind you towards the crowd that was gathered around and about he couldn't help but keep his eyes out for your ex.

There were tents around and about, a few grills going and a set up with speakers and a dance floor area. It looked almost like a wedding set up with the cabins being avaliable for anyone who needed overnights. Or a reunion of sorts.

"Kenzie!" You spotted her, Alicia and Max so you headed that way feeling Dean's hand resting at your lower back while you made your way through the crowd. Sam had already split off with Eileen and Donna so it was up to you to get the elder Winchester to actually enjoy the gathering.

She turned at the sound of your voice "Y/N!" She pulled you into a hug shooting a wink at Dean "Heya Winchester. I see you've actually managed to keep this one. I'm impressed. If you hadn't acted when you did I would've asked her out" "Very funny" he laughed watching as you went from Kenzie to Alicia to Max hugging all three of them.

----------

"So how have you been?" Alicia asked glancing towards where Max and Dean had headed in search of drinks. "Good. Dean's amazing of course. I don't think I've ever loved someone like I love him"

Before she could respond you heard a voice behind you say "Oh ouch. That hurt" you'd know that voice anywhere. You spun around to see Sawyer standing not even a foot away. "Hello to you too Mr Monroe!"

He stopped right before he got to you "A hug ok?" You nodded and he scooped you up into a hug. Sawyer was around Dean's height with chestnut brown hair that curled at a certain length and hazel blue eyes.

He was a sweet guy and one of the few you'd dated and stayed on good terms with. It'd been one those situations where you both knew the relationship had hit its end. When he put you back down on the dirt you laughed "I see you're still a fucking giant oaf" he shrugged one shoulder "Why change now Darling? Now where's this fella who you love more than anyone cause I wanna know where I'm ranked in the book of Y/N"

You felt an arm slip around your waist and laughed as you leaned back against Dean's chest "Sawyer I'm sure you remember Dean. Dean you remember Sawyer" the two greeted each other with a quick handshake "One of Bobby's boys" Sawyer commented and Dean nodded "Yeah. We met a time or two while you and Y/N were dating"

Sawyer cut his eyes at you "Well she was just telling Alicia how much she loves you so I'm glad to see she's happy" "We both are" you glanced back at Dean but he simply smiled at you "Anyways..what's on the schedule for this thing? Garth was pretty vague"

---------

Ok so maybe a small nip of jealousy hit Dean when he looked over to see you in Sawyer's embrace. It was a simple hug, that was all. Just as you'd hugged everyone else. Did it bother him seeing Sawyer hold you? Yeah. But it was just the fact that he wasn't sure if Sawyer knew you two were together. He didn't want him to get the wrong idea about the hug. That was all it was.

When he walked up behind you and slipped an arm around your waist he felt his heart flip a bit when you leaned into his embrace and did a quick reintroduction between the two men.

When you steered the conversation towards Garth's plans he stayed quiet keeping an arm around you and watching how Sawyer looked at you as you cracked jokes with Alicia and Kenzie. No, he wasn't jealous at all.

You were enjoying yourself. The banter and familiarity of so many hunters in one place was something nearly intoxicating. Most of your lives were lived in solitude. Hunting was a lonely life and being able to wind down with friends, people you considered family also that actually understood that? It was a beautiful thing.

Dean was talking to Garth, Sam and a few other hunters while you mingled with Donna, Jody and the girls. "I see Sawyer is here" Jody teased with a laugh. "Yeah we saw each other already" you replied.

"Who's Sawyer?" Claire asked and before you could open your mouth Jody explained "Y/N's ex before Dean. Her only real serious ex before him"

Claire's eyes widened "Ohhhh I bet Dean is jealous as hell" you scoffed with a roll of your eyes "Dean Winchester? Jealous? I've been with him this long and have yet to see it" Donna and Jody exchanged a look "We didn't just step into relationship issues did we?"

You shook your head "No. Me and Dean are happy, really. It just seems like at times he's incapable of getting jealous so I feel like a crazy woman when it perks it's little slimey head up in me" "I bet he gets jealous and just hides it" Alex offered but you shook your head then shrugged "Next subject? Something that isn't my relationship insecurities?"

Chatting and catching up had given way to a spread of food being laid out, a damn near open bar setting up and music playing through the speakers sat around and about.

You were sitting next to Dean laughing at Claire who'd nearly dropped Kaia when she attempted to dip her. "Think you can do it better?" Claire teased so you cut your eyes at Dean who shrugged one shoulder "Go for it sweetheart"

You glanced, spotting Max near the bar so you whistled "Banes?" When he glanced up you motioned towards the girls "Wanna teach these young ones how it's done?" He raised an eyebrow as he walked towards you and Dean "Am I leading or are you?" "Claire thinks I can't dip someone" a broad grin split his face "Oh its on then Novak"

----------

Dean watched as you spun Max around the dance floor. Several people had stopped to watch probably just from the height difference between the two of you. This was something you and Max had long since perfected, you both would take turns leading. When it came time for you to dip Max despite the height difference you successfully dipped him, spun him out then the two of you switched leads.

This was why he hadn't really gotten too upset when you'd spoken with Sawyer early. He knew you were his, you were happy with him. He had no reason to get jealous, right?

He heard Donna call his name and was quickly pulled into a conversation with her, Isaiah and Jody. "So how's things going?" Donna asked glancing back towards the dance floor. Jody smirked at him "Ya know Garth already has this set up..would be perfect for a ceremony of any sorts" he knew she was teasing but he also knew he'd be lying to himself if he hadn't already thought about a future between the two of you. He loved you and for some reason unknown to him you loved him too. "Yeah it would be" he replied causing a laugh to slip out of Isaiah at the look on the two women's faces.

Somewhere along the line you'd lost Max to David who cited he wanted his boyfriend back. You pulled Kenzie onto the dance floor next laughing when she insisted on leading.

You spotted Sawyer at the edge of the crowd, nursing a beer. You spun around with Kenzie a few times until Alicia cut in and you were left partnerless.

"On the off chance I may have a Winchester gunning for me, care to dance?" You turned to look up at Sawyer and shrugged. Dean never got jealous, so chances were Saw would be safe. "Well cmon then Monroe. Let's see if you've lost any steps"

He hesitated before touching your waist so you grabbed his hands with a light laugh placing them where both Max and Kenzie had touched you. "See? No harm, no foul" the two of you started to dance and you found yourself humming along with the song. It was one Dean played a lot.

"So you and Dean...can't say I'm surprised" you raised your eyes to look at him "Why is that?" He shrugged moving your arm that was resting on his shoulder slightly "He always seemed smitten with you. No other hunter compared to you, he was always talking about ya even when we were together"

"So what was that about calling him one of Bobby's boys?" You asked with a grin "Could I really say oh yeah of course I know Dean Winchester. One of the best hunters that's ever walked. The one man who I knew the first moment I saw you around him that we'd never last in the long run" "oh come on now Saw. We were good together for a while. We just got to a point.." you trailed off and he leaned down just enough to be eye level with you "That we both knew we'd be better as friends?" You nodded "Yeah cause if we'd dragged it out we would've ended up hating each other"

He smiled "I have no hard feelings love. You're happy with him. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Plus I'm seeing someone, her names Genya. She lives in New Orleans. I think you'd like her. We been together about six months now"

"Why didn't she come?" You asked and he smiled "Her coven had a ceremony she was presiding over" you could feel how wide your smile was at that news "She's a witch? Oh I love her already" he laughed loudly, the sound echoing around the two of you "C'mon now Y/N, you've got Dean. You can't have my girl too"

The sound of Sawyer's laughter hit Dean's ears over the music and conversations around him. When he followed the sound with his eyes he felt a flame flickering to life in his chest.

Sawyer's hands on your waist, your hands on his shoulders. Your faces close, laughter falling from him and a broad smile lightening your features.

"What the hell?" He meant to think it, not to let any anger slip into his voice or posture but it was clear to anyone who knew him and considering he was still fairly close physically to both Jody and Donna needless to say those two knew him pretty damn well. No, not quite anger. He'd felt that plenty in his life and this wasn't it. No this was jealousy, no other word could come close to the reasoning behind the flush to his skin or the torrent of thoughts running through his mind.

----------

One minute you were swaying to the music with Sawyer and the next you felt two hands on your waist pulling you away from Saw and causing you to collide with a broad chest.

Your hands flew out to brace yourself and the moment they collided with the body under them your eyes flew up to meet the green eyes staring down at you. When had Dean stripped out of his flannel? Why was he glaring at Sawyer over your head and when had this t-shirt gotten so tight across him?

"Baby, everything ok?" The thought occurred to you that maybe something was wrong but the look in his eyes didn't scream something was up, no he was jealous. No. Dean didn't get jealous, or did he?

"Dean?" Sawyer tried and you could see the muscles clenching in Dean's jaw as his hands gripped your waist firmly. "I need to talk to Y/N for a minute..that good with you?" Sawyer cut his eyes at you and you almost missed the slight twitch upwards his lips did before he said "Of course" before saying "Good night darling. It was good seeing you. I'm leaving bright and early but I'll ring ya once I hit Louisiana"

You could feel the heat radiating off Dean when you turned to give Sawyer a hug "Don't be a stranger and drive safe" the moment you released Sawyer Dean was leading you off the dance floor with a hand on your lower back.

"So what's the problem?" You asked once the two of you had cleared the crowd. Some of the cabins were already taken but there was enough for everyone. You saw the impala so you started to walk towards it, hearing Dean huff slightly behind you.

You made it to the impala and turned to face Dean. "Baby, do you remember your words?" He was silent but moved closer to you, he laid a hand on either side of your shoulders his palms flattening on the roof of the car and effectively trapping you between it and his own body.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked finally, leaning down close enough you could smell the scent of his cologne mingling with the whiskey he'd drank. You nodded slowly knowing he could smell the same brand of whiskey on your own breath from shared kiss and you stealing his drink earlier in the night. "Yeah, you pulled me off the dance floor and lead me out here into the dark. Now what are you planning to do to me Winchester?"

He scoffed, a smirk slipping onto his face "You get jealous if a waitress calls me handsome or if a witness asks to be interviewed by me yet you're asking what's wrong and what I plan to do?" You could feel your heart flip and heat rush into your lower stomach at his words. Oh, he was jealous

"Is it because I was dancing with Sawyer?" He didn't respond,instead he stepped even closer moving his lips to your neck to barely let them brush over the sensitive skin there.

"Is it because another man had their hands on me?" You asked when his hands went from the roof to your hips pulling you close enough the heat from his body had every inch of you feeling like it was on fire "Can we pick a cabin, head in and talk?" He finally spoke before connecting his lips to your neck sucking the skin right over your pulse, no doubt leaving a mark it his wake but you could've cared less considering it took every ounce of self control you had to not let out the moan trying to escape your lips.

You knew you were pushing it but also wanted to relish in the moment of finally catching Dean jealous. "Or do you only get jealous when you know it's someone who's had me under them? Someone who knows what I taste like?" You swallowed hard before leaning up to place a kiss to Dean's neck, feeling his pulse under your lips.

"Someone who knows what I sound like?" You whispered into his ear and couldn't help but feel your heart skip when his demeanor changed. You could feel the hard steel of the impala under your back when he pushed you backwards just slightly but considering he'd also chosen that moment to kiss you like a drowning man coming up for air you lost any sort of sense or control you'd had.

He moved from your lips to your jaw then down your neck. He went from kissing to biting the areas he knew would make you go weak. "I would rather do this in a cabin but you know I hold nothing against fucking you in baby" you let out a breathy moan when he hit a certain spot "Wait...stop for a second"

You knew that's all you needed to say. He froze in his tracks but for a split second you saw the uncertainty in his eyes. That small flash of self loathing that you always found buried under any sort of jealous streak. You'd never noticed it before on him. "Tell me why you're acting like this"

He took a deep breath letting his fingers slip under your shirt to tease at the waist of your jeans slightly. He wasn't trying to unsnap them or even reach under them, more so it seemed like he was trying to remind himself you were in his arms. "Sawyer knows you. He's a decent guy, you were happy with him. He knows what you look like under these jeans that I love on you, he knows what it feels like for your nails to cut into his shoulders when you're hitting that peak.." he groaned letting his head fall over onto your shoulder "I'm not some jealous, controlling asshole but I'll be damned if that didn't do something to me"

"You're jealous?" You whispered and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours again. "Yes sweetheart I'm jealous as hell. Rather you see it or not I get jealous a lot. Now please for the love of everything can I either climb into the impala with you or find a cabin and remind myself I'm the only one who gets to touch you, taste you, feel you. I just need to feel you clinging onto me, moaning my damn name and maybe just maybe I can fuck you good enough you won't get jealous as often either. I love you more than I ever knew possible but right now? I want to fuck you until neither of us can even remember another man or woman's name"

You swallowed hard at his confession, feeling your body react to the promise in his words. "In that case let's find a cabin"

@globetrotter28

[legalmente-loca]

Mechanic!Dean x Female Reader

18+ nsfw

❥ Mechanic!Dean is the kind of guy who wants to watch you while he works.

❥ He makes you wear little skirts and tops while you're focused on your book and he watches you out of the corner of his eye while he checks out the car.

❥ Mechanic!Dean touches your ass with his oily hands so that his hands get imprints on your tiny shorts.

❥ “Dean, stop dirtying my favorite clothes!”

❥ “I'm sorry, honey, I can't help it.”

❥ Having sex in his clients' cars.

❥ It's very common for Mechanic!Dean to use his tools on you. His wrench has been inside you many times.

❥ Teasing him while he works, asking him where everything goes hundreds of times.

❥ Him shutting you up by pushing you into the car and putting his fingers inside your mouth.

❥ Sucking his cock while he's leaning over the hood of the car.

❥ “That's it, sweetie... Keep sucking your favorite mechanic's cock.”

❥ Playing the part of the client who can't pay.

❥ “Well, you can always pay me back in another way.”

❥ Mechanic!Dean hating it when you can't be by his side while he works, doing his job boring.

❥ Sticking his fingers in your pussy while teaching you the names of the different parts of the car.

❥ “D-Dean, I can't concentrate if y-you keep doing that.”

❥ When it's really hot and you're wearing your little dresses, Dean drops things and asks you to pick them up.

❥ At that moment he can see your thin panties covering your tight pussy.

❥ Mechanic!Dean getting jealous every time a customer flirts with you.

❥ “Don't talk to her unless you want to keep your brakes.”

Dean Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Full Circle

🔥Pairing(s)🔥→ Stepbrother Dean Winchester x Male reader ⚠CW⚠→ stepcest, gay, gay-sex, top Dean Winchester, bottom male reader, possessive Dean, obsessive Dean, choking, spanking, praise kink, rough sex, Dean stalks you, jealous Dean, sort of fluff then smut, anal, anal sex, anal fingering, masochist reader, and Dean is rough but loving. He sabotages your relationships.  🔥Rating🔥→ Explicit  🔥Requested🔥→ Yes

🔥Word Count🔥→: 3.3k

🔥Summary🔥→ Dean has been in love with you since you moved in. It was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He intimidated all your pursers and made sure you were single. However, he stopped his ministrations when he saw he was ruining your love life. He watched with jealousy as you got into relationships. His moment came when you came crying to him. 

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

This fic doesn’t follow the supernatural timeline!

It was wrong. Anyone who saw it will say it's wrong to love your stepbrother beyond a family bond. Dean didn’t see it like that, though. He defended himself by saying, “We’re given the title of brothers, but we’re not related in any way.” People will still say it's wrong, but at this point, Dean didn’t care. 

Dean still remembers the day you appeared in his life. 

Dean was eighteen when their father announced he was remarrying again and that they’d get a new brother. Dean wasn’t too happy about getting another sibling—he thought he and Sam were enough—but he stayed quiet and didn’t complain. John then gave another announcement that they’d be meeting their new mother and brother. 

The older Winchester was reluctant to meet the addition to the Winchester family. From the information he was given, you were a year younger than him. He was spacing out and blocking external interactions. ‘Why must father’s new wife come with an attachment? It would’ve been better if it was just her… not some “brother” that’s coming.’ Dean cursed as he bit his lip from annoyance even though they hadn’t arrived yet. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his father calling out to him. “Dean! Change that attitude and meet your new brother.”

Dean groaned and sighed as he drank his soda before looking up to meet his new stepbrother. He choked as he made eye contact, hacking as the soda itched his throat the wrong way. His face was flustered from embarrassment as he tried to clean himself. ‘Shit! I wasn’t expecting him to be that…’

The Winchester who was usually confident, charming, and witty embarrassed himself. He was gobsmacked, he didn’t expect you to be cute, handsome, and attractive! Dean never found another man attractive but he was bi-curious; guess he’s bisexual. After his humiliation, Dean introduced himself, attempting to brush off the incident. 

“Well, I guess we’re gonna be stepbrothers! Nice to meet you..” 

XXX 

You were a plague on his mind. You filled his mind every waking day as he tried to push down those feelings for you. It only got worse after the wedding ceremony when you and his new mom moved in. The older Winchester unknowingly began watching your moves; how you acted, dressed, and talked. Every last piece of you made him want you more. 

He went as far as to steal your underwear, jerking his cock to your musky scent. His imagination went full drive, imagining you in various positions. Begging and whining for him while he fucks you to oblivion. Dean had the greatest orgasms in his life, painting himself with his load. 

“Dean! Where is my underwear?” You yelled as you searched your room. This was the fourth time this week that your underwear had gone missing! Other belongings had gone missing like some clothing, pillowcases, and even your toothbrush. 

At first, he was adamant about you, but now he was becoming obsessed with you. Whenever you two spoke together, he cherished those memories and every detail. He started stalking all your social media accounts, gathering every piece of information. His obsession reached the point where he could feel your presence in the room.

Obsession was blooming, but so was possessiveness. 

Dean masked his possessiveness by acting like a concerned older stepbrother, justifying his actions to be out of love and protection for you! He was protecting you from rotten men! So, he invaded every aspect of your life, asking who you’re texting, seeing, or even where you’re going. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I just wanna protect you.”

“Aww, you’re worried about me?” You teased. You always wondered what it would feel like to have another sibling, especially one that’s protective. So, you played off Dean’s protectiveness as just a sibling thing. However, Dean was serious, something you couldn’t comprehend. 

When you started attending his university, he began stalking your every move. Jealousy and fury surged through his body as he watched men and women alike talk with you. Your natural charisma and good looks caused more attention to come to you. 

Dean attempted to cease further advancements from other men by making�� forcing you– you to be in his group of friends. Using his popularity and large stature, Dean intimidated any of your pursers, blackmailing them, or getting physical. Whenever anyone came close, he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you possessively like you two were a couple. 

You were flattered by Dean's possessiveness, unaware of his obsession though. He just wanted to protect you! That’s what a good stepbrother does, but it's starting to get out of hand. Because of Dean’s ministrations, you were lacking any type of social interaction or relationships. All the guys you talked to distanced themselves or refused to speak to you again. 

Dean was too blind to see how you were feeling until he heard your cries coming from the dorm. Whenever he looks at you now, you just look depressed– saddened that nobody wants to be near you or be in a relationship. The older Winchester began questioning himself.

After days of contemplating and trying to justify his actions, Dean decided to back off. Even though the deepest parts of his mind were telling him that everything he did was for your safety. Despite his own unpopular opinion, Dean backs off and watches as you engage with other men. It took a lot of willpower to not stomp over there and snatch you from them. 

As a way to channel his jealousy and fury, Dean went to the gym every day as he continued to watch you. The constant routine caused him to become bulky. Many men and women threw themselves at him, and Dean indulged, trying to bury his affection and jealousy. However, none of it worked. Someday, Dean hopes your feelings will come around. 

That day finally came three years later. 

XX(three years later)XX

For three years, Dean watched in agony and jealousy as you got into an intimate relationship with someone who wasn't him. Dean, from day one, said he didn’t approve and made it abundantly clear. He watched like a cuck as the guy was lovey-dovey with you. Even worse, he could hear the sounds of moaning and bed squeaking at night. Admittedly, he did jerk off but only imagined himself being the one fucking you. 

Every day, Dean prayed to whatever God there was for misfortune to strike your relationship. It was an asshole move to pray on the downfall of his stepbrother's relationship, but Dean felt something was wrong with that man. He was later proven right.

“H-He cheated on me! That fucking asshole! I… I did everything…” you yelled as you took all your anger on some pillow before crying and burying your head. 

Dean watched, having the face of a concerned brother but inside, he was ecstatic. This was his chance! He could use this moment to slowly insert himself back into your life. Surely, helping you overcome this massive obstacle would make you fall in love with him! Dean will never cheat on you like that asshole did and could be a better boyfriend, maybe husband. 

Because nobody is gonna pay some guy or girl to come after him!

“Hey, Hey… it's okay. Come here, let me hug you.” Dean says tenderly as he pulls you into his embrace. Your cries muffled into his flannel jacket as the older Winchester soothed your cries. He could hear your rugged breathing calm down as you relaxed into your stepbrother's hold. 

Dean repeated this for the next few days which turned into weeks and months. He did everything to make you forget that man; taking you out to eat, movies, just sitting around and talking, or playing games together and just getting closer. Closer than what’s accepted between stepbrothers. He made sure you blocked the asshole's number and got rid of everything that reminded you of him. 

You were starting to feel something with Dean. You never looked at your stepbrother like that but now you were seeing him differently. His charming smile, funny personality, and bulky body from hours at the gym. You often caught yourself staring at Dean for long periods before turning away embarrassed. 

His biceps flexed, pulling his shirt slightly up to show his happy trail, walking around with no shirt on, or hugging you from behind. You blushed and smiled as Dean’s muscular body pressed against yours, and it was something you didn’t expect to need. These unexpected thoughts led to constant wet dreams– Dean pushing you into the bed, ramming his cock into your ass as he praises you for being a good boy. 

“So fucking good… You’re amazing, baby boy.” Dean groans as he nibbles and kisses your neck as he fucks his cock into your tight ass. His large burly hands roam your body to soothe you from the pain. 

You woke with bad morning wood. 

Everything was going as planned, if anything, faster than Dean anticipated. He could feel you warming up to him and often begging for his attention. You two were hanging out in your room, doing nothing, and the older Winchester felt the time was right.

“Y/n… I feel like this is the right time to tell you. I’ve always loved you ever since we met.” Dean confessed as he got closer. His natural scent filled your nose as his large body was close to yours. The room was turning around, it felt like it was getting hotter as you processed what Dean said. 

You didn’t remember what you said, probably saying you loved him back, but it ended with you and Dean being in a heated kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth as he took the dominant role and pushed you into submission. Feeling your submission, he pulled you onto his lap. 

“D-dean…” You whine as you feel your stepbrother pulling your shirt off. His worn hands roam your body as he touches every crevice. His thick fingers tweaking your nipples, your moans muffled by the kiss. Suddenly, the rest of your clothing was torn off as Dean moved you from his lap to the comfortable bed. 

The cold air touches your cock causing you to moan softly. Looking up at Dean, you could see lust in his eyes and he hastily takes off his clothing, almost tripping. His whole body was only for you to see. He was muscular, with perfect abs and pectorals along with his biceps. Tone thighs as his long cock was erected, acting like a third leg. 

Dean looked down at you, seeing the eagerness in your eyes from seeing his cock. You're shifting comfortably, thrusting your hips upward to get stimulation and spreading your legs further to let Dean get more room. “Look at you… all needy and I barely did anything.” Dean groans as he wraps his hand around your aching cock, giving it slow strokes. Your breath was caught in your throat as you tried to chase the pleasure, thrusting into Dean’s hand for more. Suddenly, a loud slap rang; Dean’s hand leaving a significant handprint. 

Instead of feeling pain, you felt pleasure from being hit. This caused you to thrust more which resulted in Dean slapping your thighs. “Ah? My baby is a fucking masochist? Want me to continue?” Dean purrs as he hears you moaning like a bitch in heat. You nodded desperately, wanting more. He continued his ministration, slapping your thighs until they looked bruised– not that you minded. Your cock was throbbing painfully, coating the older Winchester’s hand with your precum. 

Dean was doing everything to prevent your orgasm: ruining it by pulling away when he feels you were close and squeezing or pinching your cockhead. While it may look painful to others, you were ascending to another reality. Your moans filled the room, and you started begging for more. “P-please… I-I need… god… more. Please! Touch me.” Your whines were music to Dean’s ear as he felt you were ready for the next stage. 

“Darling. Lick my fingers,” Dean says as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. Three thick digits filled your mouth as you lathered them with saliva, slobbering around the digits, tongue swirling. It felt like you were losing air when Dean pulled his fingers out– satisfied by how coated they were. “Good job, darling. Amazing.” the older Winchester says causing you to whine with happiness from his praise. 

Slowly, Dean pushes one finger inside, grinning as he sees you pushing yourself back onto his finger. Your breathing got heavier with only one finger filling you, and flashbacks of your boyfriend filled your vision, but Dean was much better. He was thicker and bigger, speaking about his fingers, you’re nervous about his cock. “Breath, darling. I know you’re eager, but you need to calm down so I stretch you.”  Dean says as he uses his other hand to soothe your thighs. 

Letting a soft “yes” you started relaxing. The tension leaves your body as you feel Dean pressing and pushing two more fingers inside. He was stretching you nicely, reveling in the way you were keen on fucking yourself on his fingers. Dean continued pumping his fingers, loud squelching mixing with your moans and whines. He sees your body squirming and wiggling, trying to get more. 

Dean groans with mild frustration as he tried to find the sweet spot. After wiggling and thrusting his fingers, feeling your hot ass clenching around his digits– “Dean! There! Right there!” 

Bingo

He began abusing your bundle of nerves. The tip of his fingers rammed into your sweet spot as he was milking that spot for your pleasure. Feeling the signals your body was giving, an orgasm, Dean pulled his fingers with a loud pop following. “W-why did you stop?” You whine before Dean gave your ass a harsh slap.

“I want you to cum with my dick inside you,” Dean says as he strokes his cock. Opening your drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. He put a generous amount on his hands before lathering his aching monster cock with the substance. “Please… fucking, please. Fuck me,” you whine as you gave Dean teary eyes. 

Who was Dean to deny his darling his pleasure? 

Dean grins, slowly thrusting his cock into your ass, pausing when he is fully inside. He wants you to adjust, your ex-boyfriend probably never filled you this much. He was right. Just from him entering, you were on cloud nine. You’ve never been filled or stretched this much. Your ass clenching around Dean’s large cock, trying to pull it deeper. “Fucking hell, darlin'. That pathetic man didn’t fill you this much?” Dean groans as he starts rocking his hips, thrusting in, pulling back, and then slamming into you. 

You were already cockdrunk. The perfect feeling of Dean’s large cock filling you up, cockhead ramming into your bundle of nerves. His rough thrusts caused the bed to squeak which mixed with your loud moans and groans, caused your cries for Dean to rougher. “Fucking slut, darlin’. You feel so fucking good. This ass was made for me.” 

His praises sent you to spiral more. You then feel Dean’s worn hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing it but not hard enough to close your airways. Eye contact was made as Dean looked down– you were fucked beyond your comprehension. Drool seeped through the corners of your mouth, and your eyes rolled back as you gripped the bed sheets. “Who owns you, darlin’?” Dean growls as he grips your hips. 

“Y-you! I’m all yours!” you cried as tears rolled down your face from the stimulation. You were desperately trying to keep up with Dean. With your prostate being consistently abused, you were on the verge of prostate orgasm. 

“Atta, boy. You fucking belong to me. No longer than the pathetic excuse of a man. Only me! That’s all you need! Me…Only I get to see you like this.” Dean growls as his thrust gets sloppier. His breathing was getting heavier, your ass was heaven and it was about to send him there too. “Keep speaking. I wanna hear your voice, keep telling me who you belong to.”

You began babbling that you belonged to him repeatedly. Your mind was completely fucked to the ground. The only thing was pleasure surging through your body, your aching cock throbbing and swinging. 

Dean was internally patting himself on the back. You were wrapped around his finger. His dreams throughout the years were finally coming true. He could have the future he had planned since he was eighteen.

With each bucking and rocking of his hips, you grew closer and closer to your orgasm. Desperate for your orgasm, you began pushing back against him, attempting to match the rhythm of his thrusts. You were driving each other crazy, your bodies covered in sweat, mixing with the stench of sex filling the room. The sound of skin slapping, the symphony of your moans and his groans, and the bed squeaking; heavenly music that Dean could do every day if you were up for that. 

“So fucking good, darlin’. You’re perfect for me. I don’t care if we’re stepbrothers, you were always more than that since the day I met.” Dean moans as his breathing began to hitch, his large cock throbbing. He began praising you, making sure you would come undone. “I-I’m gonna cum… cum with me, darlin’,” Dean whines as he wraps his hand around your cock to ensure you both cum at the same time. 

Both of your breathings got rugged. Your ass trying to milk Dean’s cock off its thick creamy load, and Dean stroking your aching cock while he rams into your prostate. “I-I’m cumming!” Dean growls as he collapses onto your body, biting your shoulder harshly. Your cock exploded, its thick load coating Dean’s hand and your chest. 

Dean roars as he gives one final thrust, his cock throbbing, balls churning its load before his spend was flooding your velvety walls, painting your insides white. He groans as this is the best orgasm in his life. The ecstasy lasted for a few minutes, Dean licking the wound on your shoulder. The iron taste of blood touched his taste buds as he licked it clean. Now, people will know who you belong to. He was going to make sure of that to everyone. 

“I love you darlin’,” Dean says as he pulls his flaccid cock out, a loud squelch and pop echo as a wave of his thick cum gushes out. He bred you well. The older Winchester lay down and pulled you closer to him, wanting you to nuzzle into his body. 

The sounds of ragged breathing as you both calm down from the intense session. You cuddled into Dean’s larger body and you could feel his cum oozing out your abused hole. “I love you too.” You said as you slowly drifted off to sleep, Dean’s heartbeat comforting you. 

Dean was satisfied with how things turned out. He finally got everything he wanted. 

Your feelings and his went in opposite directions, but you both came back in a Full Circle.

THE END

A/N: Hello, my strawberries! Wow, this is the longest fic I made in a while. I do hope you’ll enjoy this. Very special thanks to my proofreader, @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m

[wendichester]

✧₊‧˚⁀➷ best friends,

summary. dean's tired of being your best friend.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 697.

The bar was dimly lit, a low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air. You and Dean had claimed a corner booth, the same way you always did after a hunt—him nursing a whiskey, you with your usual. It was supposed to be a casual, no-drama kind of night.

Supposed to be.

Instead, you were leaning just a little too close to some guy by the dartboard. Dean’s whiskey sat untouched as he watched you laugh at whatever dumb joke the guy had just told, your smile brighter than the neon beer sign over your head.

He tried to ignore the twist in his stomach, the heat that crept up the back of his neck. It wasn’t like this was new. You were gorgeous, funny, smart—people gravitated to you. And you weren’t his. Not really. Just his best friend.

But damn if it didn’t sting every time he saw someone else try to steal your attention.

Dean scowled into his drink, muttering under his breath. "What’s so funny, anyway?"

Sam, seated across the table, raised an eyebrow. "You could just go talk to her instead of staring daggers at the guy."

Dean shot his brother a look. "I’m not staring."

"You’ve been staring for ten minutes, man." Sam smirked knowingly. "Jealousy’s not a good look on you."

"I’m not jealous," Dean snapped, too quickly, too defensively.

Sam just hummed, leaning back in his seat, clearly unconvinced.

Dean gritted his teeth, his gaze flicking back to you. The guy leaned in closer, his hand brushing your arm, and Dean’s jaw clenched so tight it ached.

"That’s it," he muttered, pushing himself out of the booth.

Sam didn’t bother hiding his amusement. "Good luck."

Dean ignored him, his boots thudding against the sticky bar floor as he made his way over to you.

"Hey," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut.

You turned, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Dean! What’s up?"

He ignored the guy next to you, who was already shrinking back under Dean’s glare. "We’re leaving."

You blinked, surprised. "What? Why?"

"Because I said so," he bit out, his tone gruff.

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t argue, sensing something in his demeanor that told you not to push. You said a quick goodbye to the guy, who looked relieved to escape, and followed Dean out of the bar.

The walk to the Impala was tense, the night air cool against your skin. Dean’s pace was brisk, and you had to jog to keep up.

"Okay, what’s your problem?" you demanded once you reached the car.

He spun around, his green eyes blazing. "My problem? Really? You’re in there, cozying up to some guy you don’t even know, and I’m the one with the problem?"

You gaped at him. "He was just being nice!"

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed. "He was hitting on you, and you were eating it up."

"So what if he was?" you shot back, crossing your arms. "It’s not like I’m dating anyone."

Dean froze, his anger momentarily replaced by something else—something raw and vulnerable.

"Maybe you should be," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. "Dean…"

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. Let’s just go."

But you didn’t move, stepping closer instead. "No, I’m not forgetting it. What are you trying to say?"

He met your gaze then, his expression unguarded in a way that made your chest tighten. "I’m saying I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t kill me to see you with someone else. I’m saying I want it to be me."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing his.

"It’s always been you, jackass" you said softly.

The tension between you broke like a dam, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours—fierce, possessive, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless.

"So," you said, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips, "still jealous?"

Dean chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. "Damn right I am."

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555

[ultravi0lence14]

Primadonna Girl

dean winchester x fem!reader

1.1k | fluff

summary: you and dean couldn’t be anymore different. but that’s why he loves you so much.

*loosely based on the song Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds

sam couldn’t help but smile anytime he saw you and dean together.

the two of you couldn’t have been anymore different. yet, you two somehow ended up in a relationship. a year and a half long relationship that is.

dean winchester had always been rough around the edges. even as a young boy, people would look at dean and know to not get in his way, to not get him angry or the outcome wouldn’t be pleasant. his wardrobe always consisted of leather jackets, flannels, and big boots. something some people would find intimidating.

that had followed him into his teen years, and most importantly, as an adult. growing up with a berating father who saw you as nothing but a soldier didn’t help, and dean was sometimes jealous of sam for how level headed he was.

the thing was, you couldn’t be anymore opposite. growing up, you were as bubbly as a shaked can of soda. always laughing, smile on your face 24/7, and a knack for anything feminine.

you were a girl after all, and you couldn’t help but love anything that had to do with lace or dangling bows from wherever you could place them.

the narrative that a girl being hyper feminine and — for lack of better words — girly in nature was dumb or didn’t amount to much always made you angry. a girl could do anything a man could do if she was wearing slouchy jeans and a flannel or platform shoes and a skirt. it wasn’t how you presented yourself, it was your integrity, and how hard your drive to help people was.

crossing paths with the winchester brothers was never on your bucket list. you had heard too many stories of how those boys started more than one apocalypse, how they had a way of ending up in hell every other month. with your knowledge, you didn’t want anything to do with that.

if it wasn’t for you running into them on a case, you would have never given them a second thought. but you’d realized how dedicated the two were, how kind and how they were all around sweet boys. so you stayed. bonding with sam over your love for books and how you were both severely lactose intolerant.

dean on the other hand, he was harder to crack than his giant of a brother. the first couple of months the man did nothing but berate you. finding any chance he could to make a jab in your direction. you honestly thought he hated your guts, only for sam to finally admit that this was how his brother acted when he really liked a girl.

that same night, you confronted him. spewing multitudes on how treating a girl like that just because you have feelings for her is something a middle schooler would do. what you were not expecting was for dean to wrap his arms around your waist and press his lips roughly to yours.

since then, you two have been inseparable. sam couldn’t help but snicker when he caught his brother carrying around your purse, or walking behind you like a lost puppy. dean was wrapped around your finger, and anyone with eyes and a brain could notice it.

sam most importantly didn’t hold back in telling dean how whipped he truly was. all the older winchester did was keep on going with a smile on his face. knowing he’d do anything to just be near you.

all of this lead you two to this very moment, a calm night in the bunker as you and dean sat in his so called ‘dean cave’. on the couch and watching some cheesy teen drama on the flat screen tv.

you were sat in dean’s lap, legs moved sideways over his as he played with the lace trimming on your black knee high tights. dean’s grey henley and dark, plaid pyjama pants were in no synchronization with your frilled, white skirt and your big, fleeced, dark pink sweater.

the two of you were sat in a serene silence, eyes averted to the tv while dean’s fingers travelled up your calf and your hands found purchase in the tuffs of his hair.

neither of you had noticed sam’s figure in the doorway until you heard startle of laughter. looking up, you both saw sam leaned on the door frame, shit eating grin forming on his face as he analyzed the scene playing out in front of him.

“wow,” he started, shaking his head and having a strand of hair fall in his eyes. “if someone told me you’d be all domestic like this five years ago dean i would’ve laughed in their face.”

all dean did was roll his eyes, pulling you impossibly closer and nuzzling his face in your neck. promptly ignoring his brothers annoying remarks while also being in close contact to you. what else could he possibly need at the moment?

you just laughed, shooing sam away and watching him turn around a giggle all the way to his room. when the younger winchester was out of sight, dean moved his head so he could plant multiple kisses all over your face.

a squeal tore through your lips as you jokingly attempted to push him away, only spurring dean to hold on tighter to your legs as his mouth placed two sloppy kisses on both of your cheeks.

somehow in the midst of loud laughter and entangled limbs, you had ended up on top of dean. legs straddling his waist as he moved his hands from the top of your stockings to hold on tightly to your waist.

your hair had created a curtain around his face, and all he could see at the moment was your radiating smile and gorgeous coloured eyes. with a slight tug at his lips, he moved his hands under your sweater to soothingly move his hands up and down your skin. “you are the best thing to ever happen to me, sweetheart.”

a smile broke out onto your face, pressing a quick kiss to dean’s forehead before lying down and cuddling up to his chest.

all the winchester could do was hold you tighter, relishing in the fact that he had you. you, the greatest thing to ever come to him. dean sometimes thought he didn’t deserve you, that you were too good for him in so many different ways. but when you let him hold you like this, kiss your face and see you in any way possible, he knew that pushing you away would be the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

“i love you, dean.” you murmured, eyes back on the tv as his deft fingers on your back was calming you down. if possible, dean’s smile got even bigger. moving down to put a soft kiss on your head as he whispered back, “i love you too, Y/N.”

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 18

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, mentions of underage drinking and stuff (it’s the 80s and a runaway teen, so calm your tits, mm-kay?), jealousy, major angst, heartbreak, hurt

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Y/N’s too eager, Dean’s too harsh, they’re both oblivious idiots, and it all ends disastrously. You’re welcome? *hides away in one of her soundproof safehouses* 🥸🖤

<< 17 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

18. I Hate Myself For Loving You

The pack of women is celebrating their first official day back at work, although most of them are still hungover from last night’s birthday bash by the pool and have barely slept, too busy hooking up with crewmen. Needless to say, no one takes the director’s silly rule seriously.

Y/N, on the other hand, solely chatted with Dean by the pool the whole night, their legs dangling in the refreshing, turquoise water as they sipped on beers before he carried a passed-out Claire home, who’d fallen asleep on a sun lounger shortly after midnight. Dean allowed his kid one beer, not noticing Ruby secretly sharing her reefer with the girl all throughout the night. Like father, like daughter…

Y/N already noted down to have a chat with both of them at their next dinner together and remind them of the house rules. God, why does she always have to play the villain?

While there’s still no wrestling on the schedule, Dean needs all the women in their costumes and make-up for screen tests today. The girls are bustling in the locker room of the gym, chatting vividly as they help each other get ready. Y/N has to admit it feels good to put her scarlet leotard back on. She honestly missed it a little over the past month during their break.

“Holy shit, I’m so excited to get into full make-up and hair, only for the boss to look at me for two seconds through a camera lens and yell, ‘Next!’,” Ruby complains sarcastically as she puts on a set of false eyelashes in the mirror.

“Well, you know him.” Y/N shrugs it off as she fixes the choker part of her costume around her neck.

“Not as well as you, Captain,” Ruby sings teasingly and shoots her a cheeky wink.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/N chooses to ignore the comment. She’s received more of them recently, ever since the rest of the women have caught on to her close relationship with Dean, although most of it is just kindergarten-level teasing. So, she’s trying not to take them too seriously and panic. Y/N and Dean are sitting in a tree…

The chatter suddenly quiets, Y/N turning to the door in confusion with everyone else as an unfamiliar young woman innocently strolls into the changing room. She’s gorgeous, in her mid-twenties, and sports an adorable curly haircut. She smiles warily at the wolf pack and waves her hand.

“Hi, uh, who are you?” Y/N inquires first as the other women look at her expectantly as if she’s the Speaker of the House.  

“Oh, uh, I’m Cassie. I’m the new girl,” she introduces herself, smiling.

“Dean didn’t tell us he was hiring someone new.” Kaia cockily folds her arms over her costume and puffs her chest out as she eyes the newest addition.

“She smells nice. I like it,” Meg notes after sniffing the air. Y/N swears you really get used to that girl’s quirks.

“Uh, well, since Claire’s back in school and can’t do the show anymore, Dean probably needed someone new,” Y/N swiftly scrambles for an explanation and tries to keep the peace. The director’s the worst communicator ever. A little preparation would’ve been appreciated. “But this is great! Welcome to the wayward sisters, Cassie,” she announces warmly, knowing the others will follow her lead.

The room’s still full of crickets, though, some women pursing their lips and averting their eyes, others crossing their arms and downright scowling. Y/N sighs internally. The usual…

“Guys, Cassie is not the enemy,” Y/N reminds them and sees the girls nod in understanding, a few sighs of acceptance bouncing off the locker walls.

“No, Dean is,” Kaia corrects her with a grim look, and Y/N has to admit that argument is a little harder to deny.

Y/N exhales a frustrated breath and turns to the new girl with a smile. “Well, uh, Cassie, did Dean and Cas tell you what kinda character you’re playing?”

“Uh, yeah, they want me to play a rapper called Doll Slayer,” Cassie replies and meets a room full of judgmentally raised brows.

“I’ll make you a great costume, honey,” Missouri assures her and warmly rubs the girl’s shoulders. Y/N is grateful at least someone is making a first step.

“Yeah, just a heads-up–,” Billie chimes in as she strolls past Cassie with a smirk, “–your costume is gonna smell like beer and racism after a match.”

Cassie simply shrugs her shoulders, unbothered. “Oh, that’s not so bad. I’m used to it. I worked at a strip club before. At least here, no one touches my pussy and grabs my ass, aside from you girls,” she says and winks, smirking.

Ruby stalks closer and circles her, musingly pursing her pink-painted lips. Party girl has found a new prey – or it might just be the leopard print on her costume that gives it that illusion. “So… How did you get this job? Did you audition, or was it more of a… personal connection?”

See? This is why Y/N is scared to death that her blood sisters could potentially find out what really happened between her and Dean. She’s lucky they think she’s too anal and prude to fuck the boss and still buy that it only ever has been pure, innocent friendship between her and the director.

Sometimes Y/N seriously wonders what the fuck happened to her over the past year, nay, months. Not too long ago, she felt uncomfortable undressing in front of someone else at the gym, including women. The first time she had sex with Sam, she kept her bra on and was relieved the lights were off, for crying out loud.

Now, she doesn’t have that fear anymore. She likes herself when she stares into the mirror, loves it even when she peeks at her perky and bouncy buttcheeks, the muscles that clad her body after weeks of training, the strong thighs that could squeeze a whole head between them, or the good heart that pumps in her chest. These days, Y/N doesn’t need a guy to pay her a compliment or give her attention. She does it all by herself every day now.

Fuck, Dean has been right all along. Not giving a shit has power. It’s truly fucking freeing.

Cassie sighs and confidently holds her stance, shoulders straight and tits out as she faces Ruby. “Look, your director came to my club last week, I gave him a lap dance, and he offered me a job,” she replies coolly.

“Of course,” Jo scoffs sarcastically and rolls her eyes, muttering, “First open slot, and he hires a stripper.”

“Is anyone surprised?” Ruby snorts her rhetorical question, eliciting a row of laughs as the women start spewing a tirade of jokes on Dean’s dime.

Oh boy… Not even Alma can help the director here.

But Y/N’s heart twinges slightly, wondering if it was more than just a lap dance at a club. Did he take Cassie home? Kiss her the same way? Touch her the same way?

And why does she care if he did? She figured it would happen eventually, sooner rather than later even. At this point, she should be happy he’s staying away from teenagers and relatives, at least.

“Hey, uh, Dean? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Dean’s in the middle of telling the sound department what to do for the third goddamn time when Y/N’s sweet voice bleeds through the nonsense and noise. This time, it barely calms him, though, his nerves through the roof as he tries to prepare everything as best as possible before Crowley struts into the gym at any minute. The network manager announced a surprise visit to check out the set today, but Cas has informed him the network actually considers switching directors. “Someone with more experience in network TV,” they’d explained. So, Crowley will naturally be accompanied by the network’s go-to director, Cain, who’s shooting for his fucking job. Hence, Dean has planned to piss all over this set and mark it as his. He’s going to fucking wow them, albeit he hates groveling and schmoozing.

They want to replace him, want him to jump through humiliating hoops and beg on his knees for their acceptance. And Dean? He wants to fucking strangle someone…

Yet, he still forces a rushed smile to his lips for Y/N. “Yeah, uh, sure. Just make it quick, sweetheart.”

“Well, uh, since you really didn’t answer any questions at yesterday’s meeting, and now with the new girl and the contracts… maybe you could set aside some time today to address the collective anxiety, put people at ease, make them feel seen and heard,” Y/N explains carefully, causing him to groan in annoyance, his head lolling back between his shoulder blades.

The director shakes his head vehemently. “No, nuh-uh, absolutely not. I don’t wanna do that. I don’t want them to feel seen and heard. I want them to be invisible, so I can do my job in peace.”

“Dean!” Y/N frowns deeply.

“Look, Crowley’s coming over because the network is trying to get rid of me,” Dean shares and runs a palm across his face. “I’m under a lot of pressure, alright?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t wanna stress you out more,” Y/N says genuinely and shoots him an apologetic smile, chewing on that plump bottom lip. “They just wanna feel special,” she adds with an innocent shrug of one shoulder.

“You wanna be my Alma?” Her head bobs vigorously up and down in response. It’s cute. “Then you go do something to make the girls feel special, so I don’t have to, alright?”

God, these fucking women…

Y/N’s face lights up with a gigantic beam, outshining every single studio lamp on set. “Okay, I have an idea, boss.” She nods ardently and gives him a thumbs-up.

Oh boy, Dean doesn’t have a good feeling about this as he watches her hop to the changing rooms, but as he’s hauled back by more burning questions of crew members and the huge to-do list on his clipboard, he doesn’t have the time to mull some more over it and hopes for the best.

Y/N decided to shoot a main title sequence with the girls to raise morale among the group and create a fun bonding experience. The women were already in their costumes and make-up for Dean’s screen tests, and Benny was off for the day as well. It seemed like the perfect opportunity, so she grabbed a cameraman and went to the closest mall with the girls, having a blast as they shot silly scenes.

She had a clipboard with her scene notes, writing everything down she wanted to shoot – locations, perspectives, action sequences… She even made certain every unsuspecting civilian in the background signed a network waiver, ensuring she thought of everything Dean had taught her so far. Y/N wanted to make him proud and hoped he would be. She wanted to surprise him with something cool to take some of the stress off of his broad and heavily weighted shoulders.

After helping direct the pilot, she really understands the many responsibilities of his job. Honestly, being a director is fucking exhausting, and she’s glad she doesn’t have to do it full-time. Every once in a while, it’s quite fun, however.

When they finished shooting all the necessary scenes, Benny even offered to edit it for her, and they almost stayed up all night to finish a one-minute clip as the two of them looked at over four hours’ worth of footage.

Jesus fuck, like she said, it’s tiring and really not that rewarding until the premiere.

So, the next morning, Y/N called a little meeting just for the girls before any other crew member arrived at the gym. The women have all eagerly gathered around the small TV screen, having borrowed one from the motel after Sergei was nice enough to lend it to them. The Russian has grown quite fond of the girls since their stay.

Everyone is so excited to view their collaborative project that their beams are barely containable as the girls giddily jump in their training shoes on the concrete. Y/N then pushes the VHS tape in but suddenly hears voices echoing through the gym and immediately recognizes Dean’s unmistakable timbre. Shit. She wanted to show it to the girls first, deciding it was better to surprise the director privately later, and quickly halts the video before it even starts.

Fortunately, Dean’s only accompanied by Cas, the two of them in a chipper mood. The director looks surprised when he spots all the women in a cluster in front of a TV and questioningly cocks his eyebrow, finding Y/N’s eyes in a heartbeat.

“Oh, uh, Dean, you’re just in time. We have a surprise for you,” the young actress smiles nervously and takes a deep breath.

It’s not the worst, Y/N reminds herself. If he doesn’t like it, then they simply won’t use it. No harm, no foul. He even seems a bit intrigued as a lopsided smile forms on his plush lips, joining the group as an audience member. Cas, on the other hand, is just thrilled at this point and almost climbs onto Billie’s shoulders, trying to get the best view.

Y/N shoots the director an insecure smile and swallows, hoping he isn’t mad at her. But her heart flutters when Dean smiles back and subtly nods, telling her to go ahead.

But suddenly, the smiles drop from both their faces as Crowley sneaks up behind her from the hallway and joins her side with a smile. Her heart stops, and Dean’s apparently does as well, if his shocked facial expression is anything to go by before he catches himself and recovers.

“Crowley! Didn’t know you were stopping by today,” Dean greets him with a broad and fake smile, successfully hiding his disdain.

“Just wanted to come by to collect the contracts and say hello.” The network manager smiles and sends the group a friendly wave. “I wanted to check in and see how things were going. Still looked a little… dicey yesterday.”

“Great.” Cas smiles through his teeth, fingertips digging into Billie’s shoulders. “So many surprise visits…”

“So, what’s going on here? That looks interesting,” Crowley notes, eyes curiously studying the TV.

Shit, shit, shit… What is Y/N supposed to do now? Right! Improv class!

“Oh, uh, just a little something we put together for fun. We can totally do this later if you guys are bu–,” Y/N tries to deflect and scratches her throat, sharing nervous glances with Dean, but gets interrupted by Crowley.

“No, no, no… Don’t let me keep you from doing anything differently. I’m just a fly on the wall,” the manager attempts to soothe her and ushers her to continue, but it only makes her panic even more, her heartbeat hammering loudly in her ribcage.

One last look back at Dean tells the young actress she doesn’t have much choice left anymore and bravely starts the video, praying everyone will like it.

Dear God, Y/N can barely breathe or even discern any sounds except for her own pounding heartbeat that’s ringing in her ears. But the nervousness starts to leave her body once she watches everyone’s excited expressions, her shoulders losing the built-up tension. They all love it, including Crowley and Cas. She shares a smile of respect with Benny, both of them proud of the work they did, celebrating their achievement. And when the video ends, the room cheers, claps, and whistles loudly.

“Wow, fantastic.” Crowley’s smile seems both impressed and happy. He then looks at Dean, taking his imaginary hat off. “This is great work, Dean. Now, I’m excited to see the rest of the show!”

This is good, right? Dean gets praise, the girls are thrilled, and Y/N feels relieved the network seems to like what she filmed, even though they don’t know it was her. But she doesn’t need the credit as long as everyone is happy with the end result. But then she notices Dean’s stance – his strained muscles, his tightened jaw, and the subtly creased brow line. He seems pissed, and Y/N doesn’t know if it’s because of the video or because of Crowley’s presence, but she hopes it’s the latter.

“Well, what can I say? I know what H-ELLTV wants.” Dean’s smile is full of bitterness. “That’s why you hired me, right?”

Y/N’s sure she’s not imagining his anger when even Cas seems to take note of it and hurries to Crowley’s side, quickly scurrying the manager away by his shoulders. “Hey, Crowley, why don’t I accompany you back to the parking lot, and we can go over some business?”

As soon as the two men are out of earshot, Dean saunters into the middle of the viewing circle, a quiet storm rolling in from the wild sea. He halts in front of her, shooting Y/N a disappointed look that makes her swallow harshly and almost pass out before he gives her the cold shoulder and faces the rest of the room, turning his back to her as if she doesn’t exist at all.

“Okay, who here is confused about who the director is, huh?” Dean throws rhetorically into the group, knowing full well who the culprit is. Y/N’s sure he knows it’s her.

Fucking shit.

“No one?” Dean arches his eyebrow when he’s still only met with silence. “‘Cause I’m fucking confused. I don’t remember sending anyone out to a mall to shoot a fucking main title sequence. So, who shot this?”

Okay, just tell him what you’ve done, Y/N. You can do this. He may bite your head off, but he’ll also forgive you once you’ve explained yourself…

But Y/N doesn’t get a chance to step forward when Benny raises his hand and says, “I did, chief. I cut it, too.”

Fuck. Y/N knows she can’t let Benny take the blame for her mistake. This is bad. Really, really, really bad.

“Hey!”

Oh God, is that her squeaky voice? Is she really doing it? But apparently, she is as she pushes past Dean and protectively positions herself in front of Benny, shielding the camera operator from the director’s wrath.

“It’s not him. I did it. I told him what to shoot.”

Dean’s death stare then fully lands on her, making her weak knees quiver in fear. She’s witnessed a few of Dean’s outbursts before, but she’s never seen him this goddamn angry. His look is so dark that his usually gorgeous green eyes are just two black holes, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut through diamonds. He’s not just fuming – he’s a goddamn California wildfire.

“Interesting,” Dean notes as he studies the pair in front of him, clicks his tongue, and sneers, “So, lemme guess… You two stayed up all night, cozied up in front of a screen… to throw this fucking garbage together? How cute.”

“Dean, I was just trying to help,” Y/N explains meekly, but he only scoffs condescendingly in response. “The girls needed a boost.”

“I don’t need your help, sweetheart. I need you to be a fucking actress,” he bites harshly, his deep voice booming, razor-sharp words slicing through her arteries. The way he looks at her hurts the most, though. It lets her know she’s fucking worthless in his eyes. “You’re not a fucking director just because you take a camera into your hands, Y/N.”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I thought the show needed a little something to pull the audience in,” Y/N states bravely and bites the insides of her cheeks bloody, swallowing some of her own anger down with the metallic taste in her mouth. Maybe she went a little overboard, but she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this by him. She doesn’t deserve to be humiliated again. This punishment is unjust.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I won’t pull the audience in with this cheap shit,” Dean snaps. “What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Are you trying to make a move on my job, Y/N? You think you can do better than me?”

Her brow furrows wildly at his accusation. “Dean, what? No!”

“Because I’d never put my name on something I didn’t direct, sweetheart,” he grits, nostrils flaring. “Let alone on some girly as fuck bullshit.”

“You put your name on the pilot.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and her entire body freezes, every limb and every muscle going numb when that muttered sentence reaches her ears. Fuck. She’s pretty sure it was Kaia who said it and knows it was the final nail in Dean’s rage coffin. He’s going to explode like an atomic bomb. Fat Man.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” The director’s head snaps to Kaia as she bravely steps forward.

“You heard me,” Kaia says and courageously faces his thundering glare. “You know Y/N directed the pilot. She saved your ass. You should thank her.”

How the fuck do you breathe again? Because Y/N seems to have forgotten how as her heart stops and incinerates in her ribcage till only a pile of ash remains. She’s sure her lungs will follow soon, too.

Dean smacks his lips, head bobbing in a rhythm like the clock of a time bomb. It’s the calm before the storm. And then, when he meets Kaia’s defiant stare, he simply says, “You’re fired,” and the whole room gasps before falling into shocked silence.

“What?” Kaia’s jaw drops to the floor, not expecting the director to go as far as he did.

“You heard me,” Dean repeats with a cunning smirk, clearly getting sadistic pleasure out of the fact he gets to throw those words back at her. “Pack up your shit and get the fuck off my set.”

Kaia takes a final look at each of the women, nodding her goodbye with tears brimming in her chocolate eyes before she sends Dean one last glare and storms out of the gym. Y/N flinches at the jarring sound of the heavy metal door, her heart filling with guilt. And as Dean finally glances at her again, his look says it as well, “This is on you. You made me do this, Y/N.”

“So, anyone else got something to say? No?” Dean challenges the group and nods in satisfaction when no answer comes. “Good.”

And then, it all becomes too fucking much. Y/N wanted to do something nice for him, help him, make herself useful. By no means did she want this. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She didn’t want to anger him. She didn’t want to get humiliated in front of all her friends, her family. And for crying out loud, she definitely didn’t want some innocent bystander to get fired over her mistake.

This is worse than getting humiliated by Dean during her audition. It hurts infinitely more. They hadn’t known each other back then. They weren’t friends. A stranger, some random asshole, had degraded her and taken her pride back then. Now, it was her fucking best friend that did it. A guy she has trusted, a guy she lo–

Y/N chokes and can’t hold it in anymore, even though she wants to. She doesn’t want to be weak in front of him, but a tear still escapes her eye and slips down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away with her sleeve but notices that Dean caught it nonetheless.

“Get back to work,” he mutters and shoulders through the crowd as he averts his green eyes and tries not to look at her, stomping up the stairs to his office without a glance back. “Hey, Y/N? If you wanna help so bad, why don’t you grab a rag and clean up a little? It’s fucking dusty in here…”

As the office door slams shut with a bang, Y/N finally allows herself to break down, the sobs wracking freely through her body. But she doesn’t fall – a pack of ten women quickly huddles around her and catches her in their arms.

“He gets like that sometimes,” Billie assures her and hugs her tighter as Charlie wipes some of the tears from her face. “Just let the ass cool down a little.”

Y/N nods with a sniffle and hopes the stunt woman is right.

Dean’s the villain, and Benny’s the fucking hero, the one that tried to save the damsel in distress from the unbearable and ferocious monster and turned Cinderella into a princess. That’s the story you’ve decided to tell, isn’t it?

Doesn’t matter that Dean’s hurt, too. Doesn’t matter that he feels fucking betrayed by the woman he loves. That, maybe, seeing a handsome camera operator bonding with his girl triggered something deep and broken inside his heart. He couldn’t control the spewing dragon fire that came out of his mouth. All he saw in his mind was Benny fucking Y/N while they edited this little video together, sharing flirtatious laughs and wanton looks all throughout the night.

And while Dean still thinks he had a right to make a point and draw a line in the sand, showing the young actress where the boundaries are, where her goddamn place is, he knows he went too fucking far when he saw the first heartbreaking tear trickle down her rosy cheeks.

It fucking broke him.

Y/N never cries, truly no matter what. Getting beat up in front of strangers after fucking her best friend’s husband? Nope. Getting humiliated by her boss? Still holding the dam. Unwanted pregnancy? Not a single tear shed. Dean wasn’t sure if anything in this world could even make that girl cry at this point. It seemed like an unfathomable impossibility.

Yet, Dean seems to be exactly that exception. He made her cry. He broke her. And he hates himself for it, hates himself for loving her so much that it fucking hurts.

And then, he catches himself thinking, Maybe that tear meant she feels something for me after all.

“Hey, just wanted to drop by and give you this.” Jo strolls into his office and drops a thick stack of papers on his desk. Dean’s eyes only begrudgingly skim through the contents, not in the mood for the blonde’s theatrics right now. “It’s my new contract. Crowley already signed it. I have to look out for myself now. I know what I’m worth, and I’m not going to apologize to you or to anyone for it.”

The director rolls his eyes and lets out a small sigh. Apparently, her lawyer ex-husband is smart enough to negotiate a better deal for his wife, meaning he doesn’t have to pay her as much spousal support if she can provide for herself. What a frustratingly clever dick…

There’s a knock on the open door, his green eyes immediately recognizing Y/N. While his heart flutters upon her sight, it’s still boiling, too, the pain, anger, and jealousy still simmering below his stoic surface. It’s even hard for him to look at her right now without breaking down. All he sees is the image of her protectively jumping in front of Benny, the smile she shared with the cameraman over their successful project, wondering if truly all they did was work. Did he kiss her? Did he touch her?

“Look, don’t fire Kaia,” Y/N charges in, a pleading look etched into her features. Her eyes are still puffy from crying, her little nose still red from sniffling. “If you wanna fire someone, fire me. It was my fault.”

Dean sternly meets her gaze and challenges her, “Is that really what you what, hm?”

Fuck, the director doesn’t know why he even suggested it. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if she actually accepted this deal. While he’s momentarily angry and hurt, he doesn’t want to lose her, either. She just needs some boundaries. Clear-cut boundaries. Just like his kid. God, these women are trampling all over him.

Fortunately, Y/N was only bluffing, too. She hesitates and shares a helpless look with Jo, who’s not in a hurry to jump to her frenemy’s defense and just awkwardly averts her gaze to the floor.

Y/N then finally looks into his eyes and gives him a defensive shrug of her shoulders. “I-I had ideas, okay?”

Dean sighs loudly and grunts, “Yeah? Put ‘em in your fucking diary next time and keep them away from my set. I can’t direct this show, Y/N, when they’re all looking to you for answers.”

He knows the girls have crowned her the pack leader, even if Y/N has never asked for that title. He knows they respect her and listen to her, knows they like her more than him. Hell, the women probably love her just as much as he does. On top of that, Y/N actually did a good job directing this stupid sequence, and Dean would be proud of her if it wasn’t all overshadowed by his wrath and envy. He’s not only jealous of Benny, no, he’s jealous of her as well, and it makes him hate himself even more.

She was a good girl. She did a great job. She deserves to be praised and not punished. She did what he taught her, but he just always figured she’d ask him for help on a project and not the goddamn camera guy. And now, he can’t stop his inner sadist and master of self-sabotage from hurting her like she’s hurting him by not wanting him back.

“I know. I’m sorry. I get it.” She bobs her head in genuine understanding and sorrow, pouting her pink lips. “It’s just-… We take care of each other. We’re a family.”

“Nah, you’re really not,” he bites with a sneer as he drills his knife into her heart, knowing precisely where it would sting the most. “This is a job. You’re colleagues, Y/N. If I fire one of you, I can just pop into the next strip club and hire a new actress to replace you, sweetheart. Says more about your job than mine, doesn’t it?”

Y/N is speechless, the first few tears pricking her beautiful eyes again, but Dean can tell she won’t let them escape this time as she balls her hands into fists by her thighs and tightens her jaw.

“Now, get the fuck out of my office,” he orders her sharply and watches the defeated actress reluctantly leave. He then turns back to Joanna’s contract on his desk, hoping he can finally be left in peace soon.

These fucking women…

“You wanna be a fucking producer?!” Dean gapes at the paper in front of his green orbs before his shocked stare drifts to Jo. Even Y/N has halted her exit on the deck outside upon overhearing the news and blinks at her former friend, slack-jawed.

“No, I am a producer,” the blonde corrects with a triumphant smirk.

19. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Phew! So much drama has entered the gym 👀 Welp, let’s see if Y/N can win him back in the next chapter, if Dean calms down a little, or if even more disaster is waiting for you tomorrow, babes! Can’t wait to hear your throughts and screams for this one! 🤓🖤

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @deans-spinster-witch @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx​ @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127 @samanddeansannoyingsis @fictional-affairs @sarasolros @iamsapphine

[figthoughts]

i really need a dean x goth reader i nEEEED pleaseee <3

ahhHHHH i’m not too familiar with the goth subculture but i hope i did it some justice with this lil quick drabble !! <333

dean winchester and his goth girlfriend—who is infinitely cooler than him—constantly catching the confused and jealous stares from regular shmegular girls whenever they go out together, hand-in-hand, sticking out like sore thumbs in the small towns they visit for a case.

whether it be the dark clothes and makeup, or the big hair that catches people’s eyes, dean doesn’t care. he knows he’s lucked out with his girl.

your extensive knowledge of 70s ‘n 80s rock and grunge music—let’s not forget 00s emo too—makes dean giggle and kick his feet like an excited schoolgirl, finally having someone to nerd out with on all the music he likes.

you spend hours together just discussing your shared interests—every word making dean fall further and further in love with you as he realises how alike you truly are, no matter how differently you present yourselves.

he adores how you simply don’t give a fuck too. your dark eye makeup and the clothing you find in antique vintage stores excite dean in such an inexplicable way. you’re so effortlessly cool; the way you look and dress, but also how you carry yourself day-to-day is just so attractive to him.

he swears you were made for him, always blabbing on about how you and baby match, his “two queens in black” or something silly that makes you shake your head in amusement, secretly enjoying his stupidly sweet comments.

he loves watching you apply your makeup; his jaw always dropped with wide eyes, gaping at you like you’re painting the bloody mona lisa.

“i don’t know how you do that,” dean always murmurs in astonishment, his eyes following the eyeliner in your hand as you perfect your wings. he’d never say so, but the few times he’s allowed you to do his makeup like yours, he’s enjoyed it way more than he thought he would.

your gothic style’s also brushed off on dean a little. it started with the little gifts you’d pick up for him, the random jewellery pieces and old vintage band tees you find at the antique stores you pass on the road. you notice his flannel collection slowly transforming into a pile of dark reds and navies—not to mention every shade of black.

it’s like he’s subconsciously trying to match with you. and damn it, you look good together. even sam thinks so. he thinks it’s nice how dean’s finally found his match in someone who seems so different to him at first glance.

dean truly loves you for you and he wouldn’t change a damn thing about his sweet little girlfriend dressed in black. <3