waynes-multiverse

[waynes-multiverse]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy THE BOYS (2022) | 3.08 – “The Instant White-Hot Wild”

[waynes-multiverse]

"Little help here?" ↳ 5.15 - DEAD MEN DON’T WEAR PLAID

[waynes-multiverse]

Now I'm finally popping over to dive into that mind of yours and your glorious writing!

First off, you gotta gimme them deets on your Somebody I used To Know - Mechanic!Dean series, because sweaty, guns out, greased up Dean will be the death of me. I know you mentioned that would be only secondary to the story, but still, you've painted a picture for me 🥵.

Secondly, the Riptide miniseries, because I feel our boy Boaz doesn't get enough love on here 😭

Thirdly... all of them? is that an option? Because they all sound amazing! But I won't make you reiterate everything, I have a heart 😂but I will be reading every one of them when they're out!

I look forward to all of it Wayne ☺️💜💜💜

I started answering this, then the kid woke up, and now, six days later, here I am 😂😮‍💨🩵

Okay, let's start with the summary of Somebody I Used to Know:

Ten years ago, you left your hometown in the rearview mirror and traded it for fame and fortune as a bestselling author in New York City. But when faced with a crushing writer's block, you return home for some clarity. There, you run into Dean Winchester – the one who got away. As the two of you revisit old haunts and take a trip down memory lane, you begin to question past choices and wonder if your heart hasn't always belonged to somebody you used to know.

So, it's more of an "exes reconnecting" story, but it also has a "finding yourself/coming home after you're feeling lost" theme. Dean and reader then have a wild night together before I throw in a big wrench-like twist 😝

And here's a little sneak peek for you:

As Dean greets Pamela at the counter, you decide to slide under the table and hide there. This is a nightmare. You cannot face your unfairly hot ex-boyfriend like this.

“Y/N?”

Fuck! Why the hell is he coming over to you? Doesn’t he know about the unspoken rule to avoid your ex at all costs when you see them in public?

“Dean! Oh my God, hey!” You shuffle back onto the bench with as much nonchalance as you can find.

“Were you just hiding under the table?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous.” You snort awkwardly, your cheeks heating in fluster. Your hand desperately forages for something on the sticky floor till it grabs the first thing it can find. “I was just looking for my–,” you glimpse at the semi-hard and semi-wet item between your fingers, “–gum.”

Obviously everything you want when running into your ex 😂

And yes, agree! Priestly never gets enough love 😩 (Btw, I have Picture Perfect on my tbr. March has been crazy busy but I can't wait to catch up on everything you've written 🩵🩵 You've been a machine, girl!!!)

I already shared the summary for Riptide here and a sneak peek here 👀

Thank you so much for asking, friend!! 🥹🫶 (And phew, I think I'm finally done with this game 🤣)

[waynes-multiverse]

Ooooh, I have to catch up here!!! 👀☕️

Writing Update ✍🏽

Happy Friday, friends! Aside from Part 2 of If I Stay (Dean x Plus-Sized!Reader) dropping on Sunday, I finally have a spicy little something coming for the Midnight Espresso-verse soon! ❤️‍🔥☕

ONE MORE DAY

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: You and Dean take a beat to de-stress with a nice hot shower. (18+ only)

👀 Sneak Peek:

You laugh, and it reaches your eyes. They’re still beautiful. You’re still beautiful to him, especially when you have that cheeky gleam in your eyes.

“Can I join you?” you ask.

Dean begins to grin as he gestures with his chin. “Get in here.”

Quickly you shed your jeans, V-neck top, bra and panties, having already taken off your ankle boots. You do that delicate, sexy thing of twisting your hair up into a twisty bun and securing it on top of your head, then Dean reaches for your hand to help you step into the tub. There you slip your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your naked breasts against his back.

“You’re not gonna get soaked up back there, sweetheart,” he says.

“What if I’m already wet?” you reply. You press your smile against his skin.

Dean smirks, watching your hand that’s already wandering south of the border. You graze your nails through his happy trail. It stirs arousal low in his gut. 

“Sounds like you’re ahead of the game,” he says...

⋆˙⟡ Read it now on Patreon!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 4/04

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom

[waynes-multiverse]

You already know how fucking much I loved this haha (and this is only Part 1 lol 👀 – Part 2 had me gasping, screaming, crying, laughing even more... all the things!!) ❤️‍🔥

Dean setting his life on fire in this fic 😆:

First of all, I loooove Fools Rush In and haven't watched it in ages! You've been reminding me of all the good 2000s rom-coms lately 😎💕

And "I Can't Help Falling in Love" was my wedding song (but the twenty one pilots ukulele cover). Since we got married in Vegas, I didn't want to go too Elvis, but still give a nod to it 😆

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren’t the “strippers and coke” kind of party couple. They’re more the “wine and brie en croute with pickled olives” on the expensive crackers you can’t afford—kind of couple. They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness.

This was such a vivid image, btw. Instantly tells you everything you need to know about the bride and groom, and I'm fully agreeing with Dean's toast skills 😂

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

He's the devil lol. Sam should've locked him up 😂

And all her rambling made me realy fall in love with her! She's so sweet and a genuinely good human through and through ❤️

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

This is such amazing foreshadowing btw 😂😂

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

This was my first heart drop lol. I knew after that, they'd never get back to it 🙈

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

Sam went full bitch mode. It's my favorite Sam 😆

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.” “So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

I fucking SCREAMED during this! You don't know how much. I wanted to shake that stupid boy till the earth trembled 🤣🤣

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say.

And I hated her for lying here instead of downright saying "Hey, I don't do casual. This was a one time exception for me" because then Dean could've said "Oh no, I meant a real date." This story is an amazing accumulation of what ifs. My mind was spinning 😅

he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since.

“Well aren’t I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

Aww, Benny, we truly don't deserve you 😭😭

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

But he reacted in full Dean fashion. I never doubted he wouldn't be there for her ❤️ (Although not breaking up with Lisa was so incredibly idiotic. The frustrations that came from this gaaaah 😂)

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

He was so sweet here 😭❤️ My heart burst. And again, I just wanted him to dump Lisa and fucking be with reader grrrr

Oh, he remembers all too well.

Dude, fully triggered a Swiftie here at the end 🤣

But honestly fitting since this entire story pretty much has the drama and angst of a ten minute break up song 😆❤️

With that, I leave you till the next part where there will be just a row of gifs with people screaming and sobbing 🤪

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

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@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[waynes-multiverse]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Ready for an angsty-fun filled finale? 😘💖

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “The Very Thought of You” by Tony Bennett

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, tense situations, protective Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, and spice.~

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Part 5: Dried Ink

Dean slammed the payphone back on the hook in frustration. He’d tried calling twice from the train station and couldn’t get you at home. It was getting late in the evening and he knew you were off work already. Where the hell did you go?

“She could’ve packed up and left him already,” Sam said. “I gave her the number of a decent hotel I know over in the Village.”

Dean reluctantly stepped aside for the next person waiting to use the phone. The sound of his train clicking by fast on the tracks echoed in the station. A gust of wind shoved at the brothers' backs, ruffling their long coats, as well as Sam's hair.

“You think she did it that quick?” Dean asked.

“One way to find out,” Sam said. “Come on. I’ve got my car waiting.”

It was so very strange to watch the bellman bring your suitcases inside your new room. You’d only ever stayed in a hotel once, for your honeymoon in Philadelphia. Michael took you to the Walnut Street Theater there, and among other things, to see the Liberty Bell. It had reminded both of you about the true cost of freedom.

You let that thought slip away from you with a shake of your head as you started unpacking, hesitantly at first. It almost didn’t feel real.

Fortunately, after sampling from a bottle of scotch you’d found under Michael’s side of the bed (and slipped into your suitcase), you began to settle into the idea. You took a break from hanging up your dresses in the closet to peer out the window to the narrow, busy streets below the fifth floor. Everything looked so small down there, so far away. In time, maybe the heaviness in your heart would feel that far away too.

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. It could be Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you. “I come home with flowers, two tickets to see a show, ready to take my wife out to dinner, only to find the apartment half empty. Not to mention a letter that…frankly, cut me to down to the core.”

His anger lessened then, turning into dismay; the kind that you never would have expected to see in his eyes. Not after how he’d been acting for the past few months. He came closer and grabbed hold of you by the shoulders. When you tensed and expelled a shaky breath, he blinked in surprise.

“Darling, are you…you scared of me or something?” he asked incredulously. “I know I’ve been working late, not coming home when I say I will sometimes, but have I ever raised a hand to you? Not even once, right?”

You drew enough courage to meet his eyes, so blue, for once so earnest. It made you sick. Because the man he was when he was sober was more like the one you married. Only, you felt the true version of him was more akin to a sleeping dragon, lying in wait to be provoked.

“Neither of us have to lie anymore and pretend this is a marriage. At least, not one worth saving,” you said. “I know, Michael. I know about Dolores…or should I say, Joanna.”

Michael paused. His head cocked as disbelief crossed his features. He stared down at you almost without blinking.

“Did you know her real name was Joanna Johnson?” you asked. “Ring any bells with Brady Johnson, the man you’ve been paying to keep her company?”

Michael frowned. “He’s her brother. He pays her bills—”

“No,” you shook your head. “Look in the folder sitting on the coffee table there.”

You gestured over to it with a nod of your head. Michael was drawn to the path of your gaze. When his morbid curiosity was too much, he finally let go of you to investigate the folder in question. You released a subtle sigh of relief. You began drifting over behind the couch and closer to the landline phone. It rested on a nearby accent table.   

Meanwhile, Michael sorted through the contents of the folder and all the information Sam had gathered for you. He’d made copies of all the evidence for your personal records, including the photos he took of Michael and Dolores.

“Her maiden name is Joanna Beth Harvell,” you revealed. “Brady Johnson isn’t her brother, Michael. You’ve been paying to sleep with another man’s wife.”

No one short of Clark Gable could fake the jolt of shock that crossed Michael’s face. You saw the truth of it in his eyes when he glanced up at you.

“I don’t know why it should bother you, seeing as you don’t seem to care much about wedding vows,” you couldn’t help but snark. You were no longer all that sad though. Somehow, that pitiful look on his face made you feel sorry for him.

Michael seemed to have swallowed his tongue. For a while, he couldn’t dislodge it from the roof of his mouth to speak. But when he did, it wasn’t with anything good to say.

“How did you get all this?” he asked.

Your spine stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Michael. I can’t do this anymore. You should be getting the divorce papers served to you by the morning—”

Your words were cut off when he rounded the corner of the couch, grabbing you by the arms again. This time, his grip was much firmer and made you gasp.

“What the hell is going on? Have you been spying on me?!” he raised his voice to new heights, shaking you once by your shoulders. “How long have you been planning to leave me?”

The words became choked in your throat along with your fear—one that paralyzed you, and made you feel sick with yourself, small and weak.

The door bursting open again startled you both, but it was Michael who grunted when he was heaved off of you by his shirt and waistcoat.

You stumbled and braced yourself against the back of the couch, but your widened eyes fell on the one man you never thought you’d see again.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He spared you a look of concern through his anger, but Michael soon commanded his attention by trying to break his hold. Dean reeled back his arm and delivered a solid punch that knocked the other man into the wall. Michael leaned heavily against it to keep himself upright, and he had to blink a few spots out of his eyes, not only grimacing at the ache in his cheek. That one blow had rattled through his skull, disturbing old injuries. He glared over at Dean.

“Who the hell are you?” Michael shouted. His shock only increased when he noticed Sam Winchester shutting the hotel room door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m her lawyer, Mr. Milligan, and you’re hereby served,” Sam said.

He strode forward with a packet of papers. Michael took a purposeful step towards him, but Dean shoved Michael back against the wall. It allowed Sam to place the packet in Michael’s disbelieving hand.

Dean went over to you then, giving you a meaningful once-over as you held yourself. He softened when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“You all right?” he said quietly, laying a hand on the small of your back. You still couldn’t quite speak, but you nodded at him gratefully, tucking a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

Michael took notice of it once he peeled his eyes from the divorce papers, and up at you and Dean. Michael’s lips pursed as his posture became even more tense and irate.

“I’m not signing this,” he said, tossing the folder onto the coffee table beside the evidence of his infidelity. He met your wary gaze. “Look, I’m not saying I’ve been a perfect husband, but you’re my wife. That still means something to me. We can…we can still work this out.”

Against your will, hot tears burned in your eyes, and your mouth trembled. The men watched you closely.

You shook your head.

“No. We can’t,” you said. “You’re not the man I thought I married.”

In those blue eyes, you thought you saw the shine of a breaking heart. But all too quickly, it turned into anger and denial. Michael meant to cross the narrow distance between you with a threat on his mind and tight coiling of his entire frame. Dean’s hand slid from your back as he stepped in between, fisting a hand in the other man’s dress shirt and pressing there hard.

“You take your hands off me before I tear you apart,” Michael hissed.

Dean’s face was full of cold fire, with a threat thinly veiled underneath. “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll break every bone you got left.”

“Dean,” you gasped, reaching out for him. His backward glance at you warned you to stay where you were.

Michael became even more incensed. Again, he was noticing the familiarity between you and this man invading his space, threatening him, and standing between him and his wife. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sam finally spoke up again.

“If you don’t take that file and leave now, peacefully, then this isn’t the only one of your affairs that’s going to come to light,” Sam said.

Michael hesitated. He glanced over at Sam with an angry raise of his brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know very well what it means,” Sam replied. He picked up the folder of evidence he gave you and slipped out a few documents that highlighted an audit of Milligan Meats.

“How does a family business stay so incredibly lucrative during one of the worst times for meat production since the Depression?” Sam wondered aloud. “Maybe it has something to do with those connections you made in Philadelphia, greasing hands like Vondich, from Pittsburg. Or accepting kickbacks from the Torelli family to stock their restaurants with higher quality beef. Who knew that your father had deep, shall we say intimate ties, to one of the biggest mafia families in New York City?”

Once Sam showed the numbers and records, written in Michael’s own painstaking hand, your husband’s face went ashen.

“How did you get this?” he said. Then, as it dawned on him, he looked over at you in betrayal. You hadn’t known about the Torellis, but Sam had been able to sort the last five years of audits for himself, thanks to your investigation of Michael’s office.

“I did my own digging, Mr. Milligan,” Sam said, earning back his attention. “Your wife’s only part in this was asking for my help in securing her divorce. As you can see, I’m very thorough. And these aren’t my only copies of this information. I’m fully prepared to take it to the authorities, today.”

His lie was to protect you, just as much as Dean physically putting himself between you and Michael was. You didn’t know if Michael entirely bought the lie, but eventually, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

He grabbed the papers from Sam’s hand, pivoted on his heel, and turned to leave. However, Michael stopped at the doorway to look back at you.

“This is really what you want?” he asked.

You nodded. “You know it is.”

With that confirmation, Michael took his heavy heart with him when he left.

Sam and Dean helped you repack your things. Neither of them trusted Michael to leave you alone now that he knew where you were. You didn’t want to make such a fuss, but they insisted on helping to put you up at a different hotel across town.

Sam took half of your belongings in his car, where he also had Dean’s one and only suitcase. Dean loaded the rest of your luggage in a taxicab and sat beside you, mostly staring out the window while he smoked. During the ride, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. You noted his profile, handsome as always, except now you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.

“Dean,” you said quietly. It earned you his attention, as his eyes roamed over you from your familiar beige jacket to your favorite burgundy lipstick.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

You tried to convey deeper things with your words, and you thought Dean read your meaning. He hesitated for a moment, but he took up your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“Sam’s gonna keep watching out for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said.

Your smile fell. “You’re still going back to Kansas?”

Dean held your gaze for a long moment, and let out a breath through his nose.

“Nothing’s changed, sweetheart. I’m still a man with a lot to make of himself, and you’re still a married woman, even without the ring,” he said, gesturing to your left hand held in his. “It’s not the right time for us…and I’m not asking you to wait for me to get my act together. It’s not fair to you.”

You were quiet for a while. The cab’s tires continued rolling over bits of gravel in the street, the honking horns and other pocketed sounds of the city falling into a background symphony. You glanced up at Dean, meeting his eyes once more.

“I don’t regret anything,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I could never.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Me either, baby. Not for all the world.” 

He held your hand until the taxi stopped in front of the hotel. Dean leaned over to open the door. He helped you out of the car, but there, he let you go.

You supposed you’d have to be strong enough to walk alone this time.

March 1946

Four months later, it was official. 

Oh, Michael sure made it difficult. Sam did make a point to keep an eye on you though. He even hired a client and friend, Benny Lafitte, to accompany you to and from work every day. The burly man was an intimidating presence, but he was kind and respectful. He made you feel safer, especially in the evenings when he kept watch of your apartment for a while, sat out front in his car.

Michael was tenacious. He likely used his connections through town, however nefarious they might be, to find out where you were staying again. He continued to show up outside your hotel room. 

Nonetheless, when he sat up against your door all night and realized that you wouldn’t budge, the anger finally drained out of Michael. The exhaustion and guilt set in, perhaps not for the first time. 

Then, he drunkenly apologized through the closed door, not knowing you were leaning in on the other side of it. It wasn’t the kind of apology that meant anything, you thought, but the kind that meant to let him save face in your eyes, to persuade you into softening. 

You didn’t soften, even though he tried everything to get you to reconsider. He tried gentle words and grandiose gestures, even so far as getting down on his knees outside the door and begging—something you’d never seen him do, not once. Part of you wanted to open the door just an inch if it allowed you to see that sight.

Your tears came, but not because your heart was easing up to him. Your heart was breaking again, knowing this was the end. 

He tried reminding you of how difficult it would be for you afterwards, how it might affect your family, your job, everyone’s perception of you. More importantly to him, it would affect how people saw him, a man divorced after barely a year. 

Somehow, you found the strength to speak to him slowly from inside the door. 

“It’s already done, Michael. And so am I,” you said. “After I saw you and Dolores together with my own eyes, I…I was intimate with another man. I didn’t do it to hurt you, but I still did it.”

His silence was deafening. Not being able to see him actually made this easier though. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t go back to us,” you said, “because that would be a lie.”

You couldn’t see it, but his face tightened as angry tears filled his eyes. He felt the weight of his decisions like never before, along with a pulsing, phantom pain in his skull that alcohol could no longer dull. Dimly, he remembered the man he used to be, before. He remembered having a shred of honor to his name, even before he married you. And he did that because he’d loved you. He was sure that he had, somehow…

“I am sorry, darling,” he croaked. “You have to know…”

You nodded, taking a breath to try and steady yourself. 

“I know,” you realized. As much as he was able to be, he was sorry.

He picked himself up from outside your door and walked away. He never returned after that.

In those four months, you resolved to move back to Sioux Falls. New York had become your home in the past year and a half you’d lived here, but it wasn’t who you were. You wanted a quieter life. A more peaceful life. 

You initially agreed to move to the city with Michael because you had wanted to please him, and make his transition back to civilian life easier in his familiar surroundings. You thought the two of you were building a life together.

New York City was still a heartbeat of a world, but it was no longer in your heart. 

Now, you were finishing up on packing your things at the hotel. You left for South Dakota tomorrow, and you already sent your last payment to Sam Winchester a few days ago, along with a handwritten letter thanking him for his help. You felt badly for not going to visit his office in person, but it would be too hard. You would be too tempted to ask about his brother. 

Dean.

Just the thought of his name made your heart constrict. You weren’t sure if it was only with pain, though you hoped he was doing well. You tried to remember that you had known him for barely a week. Your mind and your heart shouldn't be so taken up with him.

And yet.

He had seen you at your lowest, belly-to-the-ground low. He had brushed away your tears and hadn’t tried to flatter you with pretty words. He’d made you feel better with simple, raw honesty.

He gave you a window into his past, even though a soldier like him wouldn’t easily pry himself open for anyone, short of his own brother, you suspected. So you’d come to realize, whenever the memory of him greeted you after that day in the park, that he’d given you something special. Perhaps the best night of your life.

Your fingers paused on the brass doorknob to what had been your bedroom for the past few months. It was a modest one, complete with a kitchen and a small two-seater sofa.

Hotels were expensive, but your parents had been kind enough to send you some money to help you. They’d been dismayed to learn of the reasons behind your divorce, of course. They both had been against it at first, but when they heard your voice over the phone, along with the full story, they finally agreed to support you in what way they could, especially by welcoming you back home.

You were looking forward to seeing them. It had only been a couple of months since they’d come to the city for Christmas, but you were ready to go home to some familiarity, and to your family’s support. 

You shook your head to get yourself unstuck from all of that. You straightened the wrinkles out of your long skirt and adjusted the collar of your blouse. You had just come home from your last day of work not too long ago, so you supposed you would take a bath and get changed into something more comfortable before you finished packing. Your train left tomorrow, early in the morning.  

You were about to head into the bathroom when you heard a knock at the door. Frowning, you wondered who it could be. If it was Michael again, you were not opening the door, and you’d call the police for good measure if he stuck around. You were done entertaining him in every sense of the word. 

You went to the door and looked into the peephole. Your brows furrowed. You unlatched all three locks on the door and opened it to the room service maid.

“Hi, Bridget, how are you?” you greeted her.

“Oh, I’m doing well, ma’am. Sorry, I’m a bit behind today, but I’m here to clean the room.”

“Oh, well, now isn’t really a good time,” you said. You had duffel bags and suitcases open, with your clothes, a curling iron, and other things thrown about. Not to mention, you had a leftover sandwich sitting half-eaten on the dining table with a nearly empty bag of chips.

“I’m afraid I can’t come back later,” said Bridget. She tended to talk with her hands, made more interesting by the fact that she held a broom with one hand, and pulled her cleaning cart with the other. “It’ll be too late, and then you’ll be asleep!”

“Look, I’ll just clean tonight, and you can come back tomorrow after I leave. How does that sound?” you suggested.

“All right, if that’s how you want it,” Bridget said with a shrug. She threw her broom on the cart and started pushing it down the hall. She still called back to you over her shoulder, “Goodnight, ma’am! Safe travels for your trip home.”

You shook your head with a weary smile. “Thank you. Goodnight!”

You closed the door behind you and reset all the locks in place. Releasing a heavy sigh, you supposed you should get back to packing. You turned to do just that, when there came another knock on the door. This time it was a heavier sound.

“For God’s sake. What is it now?” you groused.

You went back to look into the peephole. This time, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You undid all the locks again with shaking hands, and you opened the door. There stood Dean Winchester. 

He looked nice. Dapper really, wearing a dark blue suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and blue waistcoat underneath. His hair was combed and gelled and parted to the right, and he smelled faintly of a woodsy cologne.

He also looked just as stricken to see you. His eyes were as green as you remembered, and they took in your form from head to toe. They returned to your face, softening slightly, and he smiled. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

God, his voice. It threatened to make you weak. 

You shook your head and managed to smile back at him. “What’re you doing here?”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s some welcome.”

“You know what I mean.” You reached out for him, and he took your hand, raising the back of it to his lips in a kiss. All the while, his eyes never left you. Your face flushed hotly, your heartbeat leaping in and out of rhythm. 

“I’m here to see you,” he said, matter of factly. As if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your mouth ran dry. It was difficult to form words, but somehow you managed it.

“Would…would you like to come in then?” you offered. 

“I’d like nothing more,” he replied. 

The depths in his words made a tingle run down your spine, though you tried to hide your reaction to it. You let him in and shut the door behind you both. 

“So you’re headed home, huh?” he asked. He was sitting next to you on the couch with a soda you procured for him, and a cigarette in hand, yet to be lit. 

“Did Sam tell you?” you asked. 

Dean nodded, smiling ruefully. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

You ducked your head, a bit embarrassed. He tossed his unlit cigarette on the coffee table and tucked a finger under your chin. He raised your head until you met his eyes. 

“There she is,” he said softly. 

You sucked in a breath laden with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“I think you know,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

“I think you need to say it,” you replied, daring him with the directness of your gaze. His hand fell away from your chin, just to cup your cheek as he moved closer. You grabbed onto his arm in reflex.

“I told you, I had to see you,” he admitted. 

“Why? Why now?” you asked. “After what you said last time… For goodness’ sake, Dean. Why wait until I’m about to leave?”

“Because,” Dean said. He took a subtle breath, making himself relax. “Because I had to sort myself out, and I had to wait until the ink dried on those damn divorce papers. Because if I’d come any sooner, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

Hope dared to rise high in your throat. Your eyes flit over his face, and finally met his.

“From what?” you whispered.

Dean tilted his head to consider it. He bit into his lip, and then, he made a choice.

He kissed you with abandon. He kept kissing you, stealing your breath, finding new angles to devour you with. He robbed you of any coherent thought in your head the moment his tongue breached your lips to curl against yours. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you grabbed onto his jacket and made indents in the fabric with your nails. His hands moved down your body to squeeze your waist, pulling you flush against him. You moaned into his mouth.

“Dean,” you said, half on a gasp, half on a whimper.

He managed to slow down for a moment. His hand came up to pet your hair.

“No matter what the hell I do, I’m selfish. I just…I can’t let you go,” he said, with furrowed brows.

You shook your head in dismay. “You didn’t need to, you know. I wouldn’t have let you take me home that night if I didn’t think you were a good man…and I certainly wouldn’t have invited you in.”

Your lips tugged at a smile, making Dean smirk as well. That memory had stayed with him too, usually on long nights alone in his house. He tried to remember the sweet smell of your perfume, the feeling of your soft skin, the sound of your pretty moans in his ear. Even now, the thought stirred the well of arousal inside him.

But also, there were other things he missed, like the sight of your smile, your sweeter voice, somehow gentle and strong all at once. He shook his head, thumbing at your cheek.

“The truth is, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you.”

Your eyes blinked wide at him in shock. His face was steady and even, but his amusement was starting to peek through the longer he looked at you.   

“Pretty sure?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Well, I’m willing to be more definitive on the subject if you are,” he teased. 

You fought a smile, but you couldn’t quite help it. Still, doubt began to creep in from behind.

“I want to believe you,” you said quietly. “But part of me is afraid that these are all just pretty words. If I let another man—”

“I’m not another man,” Dean said. His tone was firm, but also imploring, willing you to hear him. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “I’m me and you’re you. It’s not about Michael, or anyone else right now but us. And you’ve gotta know…sweetheart, you’ve gotta know that I’m not him.”

You tried steadying yourself with a breath. Your watery gaze cut away from Dean, but he wouldn’t let you hide. He gently brought you back, once again guiding your chin. He swept the lone tear from your cheek.

“Please, just tell me the honest truth. Tell me how you feel about us, and I promise, I won’t take it for granted,” he said. He knew he was practically begging, sounding almost needy and weak, but he couldn’t walk away from you again. Not until he knew for sure what you could want from him…what you could want with him.

The seconds of waiting for your answer were more agonizing than the long hours he spent traveling back to New York.

Until finally, you spared him. You shook your head and raised a hand to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing over his plush lower lip.

“After you left, I thought about you every morning when I woke up. And I prayed for you every night before I went to sleep,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you too.”

Dean smiled. It was a soft, boyish smile that seemed too young for his face. You loved him all the more for it.

He leaned in…but he hesitated, stopping just shy of your lips.

“Look, I still don’t know if I can be the man you need,” he said. He looked into your eyes. “But I can promise to try, every day, and for the rest of our lives.”

Hot tears once again stung in your eyes, threatening to blur your vision.

“That’s all I could ask for, Dean,” you replied. “I’ll try for you too.”

He smiled slightly, holding you a little closer by your waist.

“Good, because my shoulder still hurts sometimes. Gonna need you to work another miracle or two.”

You laughed and nodded, your hand sliding back up his arm to rub the old injury in his shoulder.

“My specialty,” you teased.

His smile dimmed then, becoming a touch serious, and even rueful.

“And, uh…I don’t sleep so well at times, either,” he said.

You sobered as well. “Me too,” you said. Your lips hinted at a smile again. “But we can keep each other company.”

Dean read the thread of suggestion in your eyes, despite the hint of shyness. His smile began to perk up again.

“I can also be kind of stubborn,” he admitted.

Amused, you tilted your head and ran a gentle hand over his chest. Was he giving you every reason you might say no to him?

“Well, I’m sure I can find a way to soften you up,” you said.

Chuckling, Dean took your hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. “Oh, I got no doubts about that, sweetheart.”

He rested your hand back on his chest and thought for a moment more. You just waited for him, patiently stroking his hand with your thumb. You had time to wait.

“You know, I occasionally like to cook too,” he said, with something of an embarrassed chuckle.

Your smile brightened with interest. “Really? Well,” you said, slipping your hand out of his and winding your arms around his neck. “We can take turns feeding each other then.”

Dean really liked the way your mind worked. His hands splayed along your lower back and brought you more flush against his chest. Your face was mere inches from his, tilted up to him in waiting.

Again, he stopped short of kissing you.

“Ah, there’s probably a lot more you should know, but this one’s kind of a big one,” Dean said. That serious tone crept back up in his voice. “I’ve got a plan to make money. It’s not a sure-fire thing, but it’s an honest one. And even if it doesn’t work, I’ll just try something else. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you. You don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You smiled at his earnestness. What surprised you most of all was that you believed him. Every word. Because you could see it in the deep green of his eyes. If you trusted him, he wouldn’t let you down. Or at least, he would try his hardest. Try really was all you could ask for.

“Then I’ll take care of you too,” you nodded, stroking his cheek.

Dean’s smile rang true as well.

He finally kissed you again, trapping you thereafter against the sofa.

You sighed and nuzzled your head in a more comfortable position on Dean’s shoulder. The train bound for South Dakota was travelling full speed ahead, four days after your initially booked ticket. The carriage bumped and jostled you both at times, but you felt nothing but peace. 

Dean turned his attention towards you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His fingers entwined with yours in his lap. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, both genuine and a little teasing. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. Your eyes closed as you let out a breath. He smiled into your hair. 

“So what’s it like in Sioux Falls?” he asked quietly, as to not disturb you too much. He just wanted to keep hearing your voice. He’d missed it. He’d missed you. 

“Quieter than the city,” you replied, after a moment to think about it. “Slower, but in some ways nicer. I think you’ll like it more than New York, anyway, and I think my parents will like you too…if they don’t think too much less of me.”

“Why would they think less of you?” Dean asked. 

You picked your head up and looked up at him a bit bashfully. You raised up your joined hands, where his mother’s wedding bands now rested on your ring finger. 

“For marrying another man they’ve never met, scarcely two minutes after the ink dried, so to speak,” you said, using his words. 

Dean chuckled, and he wrapped you up more snugly against him and rubbed your back. If you wanted to get technical, the new marriage license was the most recent “ink” to be penned. Sam had been your witness, of course, and he’d hugged you both afterwards. For Dean, Sam’s hug was tight and bracing. 

“I’m happy for you, Dean. I’m always here for you. Anything you need.”

“That’s my line, little brother.”

Dean hadn’t known that the two of you needed to take a blood test just to get hitched, let alone that the license wouldn’t be valid for 72 hours. Though it did give you and Dean the opportunity to put your hotel room to good use for those three days. Call it a honeymoon before the honeymoon. 

(In fairness, you’d tried to hold out for decency’s sake, but your resolve dissipated even quicker than Dean’s.)

“Don’t worry, I’ll charm ‘em,” he said with a grin. 

You snorted. “Good luck with my father. Be prepared for his grilling. Where do you plan to live? What’re you doing for work?”

“Well, the first one we can talk about. The second one, I’ve already got an idea,” said Dean. “I wanted to wait until I saw you again to decide…but I plan to sell the house in Lawrence.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Why?”

You had already been mentally preparing yourself for a move to Kansas after visiting your parents. You never considered that Dean would want to sell his family home.

“For the money. I’m thinking that after all this, you want to stick closer to home, be near your family,” he said. “I’ve got nothing tying me down over there besides the house, so I figure we can use the money to buy one here. With whatever’s left, I could try to start an auto repair shop. Nothing big to start. Just a space big enough for the work. I’m not picky about it. Your uncle could send me the stragglers from his tows, if he’s agreeable to it.”

“After he gets to know you, I don’t see why not. Dean, that’s a great idea and…thank you,” you replied. Your heart was touched that he would sell his family home, just so you could be near your family. You squeezed his hand and blinked past the tears beginning to burn in your eyes.

“Really, you don’t know what it means to me that you’d consider me like that.”

Dean noticed you getting worked up. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, though part of him felt a bit bashful. 

“It’s not all that special,” he said. You didn’t budge, however. 

“Yes, it is,” you said. You leaned up, wordlessly requesting a kiss. Dean obliged you. He kissed you long and slow and tender. 

He broke away after a while, just to look over your shoulder. He smiled. Then he leaned forward, careful to keep you secure in his arms as he locked the door. 

“What’re you up to?” you asked in amusement, despite the fire churning inside you.

“It’s a long way to the Midwest, sweetheart. I’m taking advantage of it,” he said. “What do you say?”

A knowing smile began to tug at your lips. “Hmm, depends on what you want to do.”

Dean shifted you onto his lap. Smirking at your small sound of surprise, he made a show of undoing every button that laced down the front of your dress with slow precision. Your breathing shallowed as you watched his nimble hand go one by one. 

“I plan to take my time,” he said. “I plan to make us both glad this train is loud enough to drown out just about anything.” 

He laid a kiss just above your neckline. The more buttons he loosened, the more bare skin he had to trail his affections, like on the tops of your breasts, and another kiss in between them. Uttering a soft sigh, you held him to you by his hair and threaded your fingers through the brown strands. His other hand squeezed your bottom, earning a stifled giggle from you. 

“I plan to map out every part of you, all over again,” he said, “until I can see it all with my eyes closed. Until we’re both sweaty and satisfied.” 

He raised his head just to mark a biting, claiming kiss on your throat, making your breath hitch. 

“That okay with you, baby?” he asked again. 

You felt his growing smile against your skin. You tightened a hand in his hair in retaliation. It was a scandalous proposal, not to mention risky. You two could be booted off the train, for heaven’s sake…  

Your breaths were shallow as he slipped a hand under the collar of your blouse, even under the bra to palm at your breast.

“You better not stop, Sergeant,” you whispered. 

When he chuckled, you felt it deep in your chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shortly before he claimed your lips again.

The train rode on.

AN: I promised a happy ending, didn't I? 😉✨ What did you think of the "end" of Michael, as well as how she and Dean worked things out? I absolutely loved working on this series and this AU world. Maybe I'll do another '40s AU in the future! 💖

But until then, I have lots of fun things coming up! You'll hear about the next story soon. 😘

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@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer

[waynes-multiverse]

She was on fire 😂🔥 But I honestly think she was just angling for a kid-free date lol

Dad Rock

Summary: Russell brings home a surprise, introducing his first love to his second one.

Part of The Exit Strategy

Pairing: Russell Shaw x wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, husbands 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 629

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Just a small drabble about these two kuckleheads. I've missed them already... Up to you to decide who comes first and who comes second here 😂

Main Masterlist || Russell Shaw Masterlist || Tag List

“Mmmm.”

You sipped on your coffee, the creases of your brow deepening a little more. There was a shift of your feet on the pavement and another tilt of your head. You curled your toes in your slippers and raised a flat palm to your forehead to shield your eyes from the blinding morning sun, your gaze flickering over Russell’s surprise again.

“Oh, c’mon!” Russell laughed softly, quirking a brow at your reaction. His hands gestured to the sleek, black car parked in the driveway once more. “Look at her! She’s a beauty! Perfect for little family road trips.”

“Around the block, maybe,” you scoffed under your breath and drank more coffee. There wasn��t enough caffeine in the world to help you deal with your husband. Maybe you should’ve made it Irish. “It’s only got two doors. How are the kids gonna get in?”

Russell shrugged casually. “It’s a convertible. We just roll down the top, throw ‘em in.”

“Does the backseat even have seatbelts?” You raised a brow, grasping the mug in your hands a little tighter.

Russell pursed his lips, giving a slight cock of his head. “I can grab a lashing strap at the hardware store.”

“You at the hardware store? Well, there go five hours of my life…” you quipped, snickering into your drink.

“That was one time!”

“When is this little family road trip taking place exactly? A year from now? Two?”

“They have a lot of stuff, alright?!”

“I’m guessing I don’t have to ask if this death trap has ISOFIX either,” you added, amusement lacing your voice.

“You’re exaggerating, sweetheart. The kids will be fine,” Russell insisted, brushing your concerns away with a chuckle.

Musingly, you gave a shrug. “Well, I guess the convertible is kind of nice,” you admitted, smiling.

“See? I knew you’d come around.” Your husband grinned a wide and satisfied smile.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s practical,” you agreed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “I mean, if we do get into an accident, at least the kids get flung out without a hindrance in their little ejection seats.”

Russell frowned, smacking his lips. His head bobbed. “Aaaaand I’m done talking with you now. I’m going back inside.”

“No, wait!” you called after your husband with a jittering laugh as he strolled toward the porch. “We haven’t even talked about our next family vacation yet! How about Ukraine? Or Gaza? You know, I heard the Fires of Mordor are super nice this time of year, too…”

“Alright, no second coffee for you,” Russell huffed playfully, holding the front door open for you as you trailed after him.

“Hey, maybe we can all go skydiving this afternoon,” you deadpanned your suggestion as you strolled past Russell inside the house. “But without parachutes. God knows safety is for uncool losers.”

“Okay, I hear ya. No kids in the Chevelle,” Russell relented with two placating palms, laughing. He then grabbed your hand and tugged you to him. He smiled at the familiar mischievous twinkle in your eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But how about we get a babysitter for tonight, and you and I take a little drive, huh? Put on a little Dad Rock, and I rock your world, sweetheart…”

You suppressed a bubble of laughter. “What exactly is Dad Rock?”

“You know, little Zeppelin, Eagles, Tom Petty, Springsteen…” Russell listed, his lips then curving into a cheeky smirk. “Look, I promise any questions you may have about that backseat, I’ll try my best to answer, sweetheart.”

You snorted another laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Uh-huh, I’m sure you will. But granted, I like this idea a little more than the first one.”

Russell grinned so much his cheeks hurt. “Told you you’d love her!”

I swear I love the car, but I couldn't resist bringing in the mom perspective 😂🩵

Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @spxideyver

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @lori19

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @misatxox @impala67rollingthroughtown

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, thank you for reading, hun! 🥰

Dad Rock

Summary: Russell brings home a surprise, introducing his first love to his second one.

Part of The Exit Strategy

Pairing: Russell Shaw x wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, husbands 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 629

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Just a small drabble about these two kuckleheads. I've missed them already... Up to you to decide who comes first and who comes second here 😂

Main Masterlist || Russell Shaw Masterlist || Tag List

“Mmmm.”

You sipped on your coffee, the creases of your brow deepening a little more. There was a shift of your feet on the pavement and another tilt of your head. You curled your toes in your slippers and raised a flat palm to your forehead to shield your eyes from the blinding morning sun, your gaze flickering over Russell’s surprise again.

“Oh, c’mon!” Russell laughed softly, quirking a brow at your reaction. His hands gestured to the sleek, black car parked in the driveway once more. “Look at her! She’s a beauty! Perfect for little family road trips.”

“Around the block, maybe,” you scoffed under your breath and drank more coffee. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to help you deal with your husband. Maybe you should’ve made it Irish. “It’s only got two doors. How are the kids gonna get in?”

Russell shrugged casually. “It’s a convertible. We just roll down the top, throw ‘em in.”

“Does the backseat even have seatbelts?” You raised a brow, grasping the mug in your hands a little tighter.

Russell pursed his lips, giving a slight cock of his head. “I can grab a lashing strap at the hardware store.”

“You at the hardware store? Well, there go five hours of my life…” you quipped, snickering into your drink.

“That was one time!”

“When is this little family road trip taking place exactly? A year from now? Two?”

“They have a lot of stuff, alright?!”

“I’m guessing I don’t have to ask if this death trap has ISOFIX either,” you added, amusement lacing your voice.

“You’re exaggerating, sweetheart. The kids will be fine,” Russell insisted, brushing your concerns away with a chuckle.

Musingly, you gave a shrug. “Well, I guess the convertible is kind of nice,” you admitted, smiling.

“See? I knew you’d come around.” Your husband grinned a wide and satisfied smile.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s practical,” you agreed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “I mean, if we do get into an accident, at least the kids get flung out without a hindrance in their little ejection seats.”

Russell frowned, smacking his lips. His head bobbed. “Aaaaand I’m done talking with you now. I’m going back inside.”

“No, wait!” you called after your husband with a jittering laugh as he strolled toward the porch. “We haven’t even talked about our next family vacation yet! How about Ukraine? Or Gaza? You know, I heard the Fires of Mordor are super nice this time of year, too…”

“Alright, no second coffee for you,” Russell huffed playfully, holding the front door open for you as you trailed after him.

“Hey, maybe we can all go skydiving this afternoon,” you deadpanned your suggestion as you strolled past Russell inside the house. “But without parachutes. God knows safety is for uncool losers.”

“Okay, I hear ya. No kids in the Chevelle,” Russell relented with two placating palms, laughing. He then grabbed your hand and tugged you to him. He smiled at the familiar mischievous twinkle in your eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But how about we get a babysitter for tonight, and you and I take a little drive, huh? Put on a little Dad Rock, and I rock your world, sweetheart…”

You suppressed a bubble of laughter. “What exactly is Dad Rock?”

“You know, little Zeppelin, Eagles, Tom Petty, Springsteen…” Russell listed, his lips then curving into a cheeky smirk. “Look, I promise any questions you may have about that backseat, I’ll try my best to answer, sweetheart.”

You snorted another laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Uh-huh, I’m sure you will. But granted, I like this idea a little more than the first one.”

Russell grinned so much his cheeks hurt. “Told you you’d love her!”

I swear I love the car, but I couldn't resist bringing in the mom perspective 😂🩵

Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @spxideyver

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @lori19

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @misatxox @impala67rollingthroughtown

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

[waynes-multiverse]

Glad to have you aboard the time travel ship 😉🩵

Time After Time – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language and mature themes, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), a lot of time travel talk, set partially in 1942 and the present (alternate S3 ending), PTSD, Soldier Boy before Soldier Boy (aka no powers yet, plus meet his childhood home and parents), slight Beauty/Beast vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff, humor, angst

A/N: Been wanting to write about time travel again since this fun one-shot. Got the idea while writing Bad Reputation years ago but never got to it. Felt challenged again after rewatching the Community episode where Dean Pelton whines, "Time travel is really hard to write about." Welp, challenge accepted 😂🤍

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints… – Coming March 28 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – Coming April 4 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 3: I’m Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me – Coming to Patreon March 14

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day – Coming to Patreon March 21

Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris – Coming to Patreon March 28

...and more to come 🕰️

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, I'm so excited to share it! It was so fun to explore the 1940s 🤓🩵

Time After Time – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language and mature themes, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), a lot of time travel talk, set partially in 1942 and the present (alternate S3 ending), PTSD, Soldier Boy before Soldier Boy (aka no powers yet, plus meet his childhood home and parents), slight Beauty/Beast vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff, humor, angst

A/N: Been wanting to write about time travel again since this fun one-shot. Got the idea while writing Bad Reputation years ago but never got to it. Felt challenged again after rewatching the Community episode where Dean Pelton whines, "Time travel is really hard to write about." Welp, challenge accepted 😂🤍

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints… – Coming March 28 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – Coming April 4 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 3: I’m Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me – Coming to Patreon March 14

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day – Coming to Patreon March 21

Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris – Coming to Patreon March 28

...and more to come 🕰️

[waynes-multiverse]

Luckily, Russell is smart enough to know that and married well 😂🩵

Dad Rock

Summary: Russell brings home a surprise, introducing his first love to his second one.

Part of The Exit Strategy

Pairing: Russell Shaw x wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, husbands 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 629

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Just a small drabble about these two kuckleheads. I've missed them already... Up to you to decide who comes first and who comes second here 😂

Main Masterlist || Russell Shaw Masterlist || Tag List

“Mmmm.”

You sipped on your coffee, the creases of your brow deepening a little more. There was a shift of your feet on the pavement and another tilt of your head. You curled your toes in your slippers and raised a flat palm to your forehead to shield your eyes from the blinding morning sun, your gaze flickering over Russell’s surprise again.

“Oh, c’mon!” Russell laughed softly, quirking a brow at your reaction. His hands gestured to the sleek, black car parked in the driveway once more. “Look at her! She’s a beauty! Perfect for little family road trips.”

“Around the block, maybe,” you scoffed under your breath and drank more coffee. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to help you deal with your husband. Maybe you should’ve made it Irish. “It’s only got two doors. How are the kids gonna get in?”

Russell shrugged casually. “It’s a convertible. We just roll down the top, throw ‘em in.”

“Does the backseat even have seatbelts?” You raised a brow, grasping the mug in your hands a little tighter.

Russell pursed his lips, giving a slight cock of his head. “I can grab a lashing strap at the hardware store.”

“You at the hardware store? Well, there go five hours of my life…” you quipped, snickering into your drink.

“That was one time!”

“When is this little family road trip taking place exactly? A year from now? Two?”

“They have a lot of stuff, alright?!”

“I’m guessing I don’t have to ask if this death trap has ISOFIX either,” you added, amusement lacing your voice.

“You’re exaggerating, sweetheart. The kids will be fine,” Russell insisted, brushing your concerns away with a chuckle.

Musingly, you gave a shrug. “Well, I guess the convertible is kind of nice,” you admitted, smiling.

“See? I knew you’d come around.” Your husband grinned a wide and satisfied smile.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s practical,” you agreed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “I mean, if we do get into an accident, at least the kids get flung out without a hindrance in their little ejection seats.”

Russell frowned, smacking his lips. His head bobbed. “Aaaaand I’m done talking with you now. I’m going back inside.”

“No, wait!” you called after your husband with a jittering laugh as he strolled toward the porch. “We haven’t even talked about our next family vacation yet! How about Ukraine? Or Gaza? You know, I heard the Fires of Mordor are super nice this time of year, too…”

“Alright, no second coffee for you,” Russell huffed playfully, holding the front door open for you as you trailed after him.

“Hey, maybe we can all go skydiving this afternoon,” you deadpanned your suggestion as you strolled past Russell inside the house. “But without parachutes. God knows safety is for uncool losers.”

“Okay, I hear ya. No kids in the Chevelle,” Russell relented with two placating palms, laughing. He then grabbed your hand and tugged you to him. He smiled at the familiar mischievous twinkle in your eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But how about we get a babysitter for tonight, and you and I take a little drive, huh? Put on a little Dad Rock, and I rock your world, sweetheart…”

You suppressed a bubble of laughter. “What exactly is Dad Rock?”

“You know, little Zeppelin, Eagles, Tom Petty, Springsteen…” Russell listed, his lips then curving into a cheeky smirk. “Look, I promise any questions you may have about that backseat, I’ll try my best to answer, sweetheart.”

You snorted another laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Uh-huh, I’m sure you will. But granted, I like this idea a little more than the first one.”

Russell grinned so much his cheeks hurt. “Told you you’d love her!”

I swear I love the car, but I couldn't resist bringing in the mom perspective 😂🩵

Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @spxideyver

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @lori19

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @misatxox @impala67rollingthroughtown

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

[waynes-multiverse]

As someone who already read this glorious masterpiece in its entirety, I cannot recommend this one enough! So emotional, angsty, and beautiful all at once 🥹❤️🧡💛

Accurate depiction of me while devouring every word of this:

IF I STAY || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: This mini series is for @redhoodieone, a lovely new member of my Patreon!

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Firefighter!Dean, Firefighter!Benny, lawyer!Sam, (background Saileen), thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, fluff, and hurt/comfort, meet cute, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, and much, much more... ❤️‍🔥

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Chapters:

✦ Part 1: Fools Rush In

✦ Part 2: It's Now or Never - Read now on Patreon!

⋆˙⟡ Part 2 coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

⋆˙⟡ Want to get notified when every chapter drops? Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. ❤️

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[waynes-multiverse]

Right?? I missed them, too! Kinda became obsessed with them, so I'm trying to squeeze as many cute family moments out of them as I can 😂

I love the readers humour and sarcasm, it's unmatched! 🤣 and Russell's defeat, like he's had years of it (which he has) to put up with.

Hahaha she was in a good mood that morning 🤣 And yeah, Russell definitely has been with her a long time, and I'm glad you can see that in the way they are around each other and know each other 🥰

So happy you liked this little moment, Abbie! I have a few more ideas for them, so hopefully you won't miss them for too long 🩵

Dad Rock

Summary: Russell brings home a surprise, introducing his first love to his second one.

Part of The Exit Strategy

Pairing: Russell Shaw x wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, husbands 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 629

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Just a small drabble about these two kuckleheads. I've missed them already... Up to you to decide who comes first and who comes second here 😂

Main Masterlist || Russell Shaw Masterlist || Tag List

“Mmmm.”

You sipped on your coffee, the creases of your brow deepening a little more. There was a shift of your feet on the pavement and another tilt of your head. You curled your toes in your slippers and raised a flat palm to your forehead to shield your eyes from the blinding morning sun, your gaze flickering over Russell’s surprise again.

“Oh, c’mon!” Russell laughed softly, quirking a brow at your reaction. His hands gestured to the sleek, black car parked in the driveway once more. “Look at her! She’s a beauty! Perfect for little family road trips.”

“Around the block, maybe,” you scoffed under your breath and drank more coffee. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to help you deal with your husband. Maybe you should’ve made it Irish. “It’s only got two doors. How are the kids gonna get in?”

Russell shrugged casually. “It’s a convertible. We just roll down the top, throw ‘em in.”

“Does the backseat even have seatbelts?” You raised a brow, grasping the mug in your hands a little tighter.

Russell pursed his lips, giving a slight cock of his head. “I can grab a lashing strap at the hardware store.”

“You at the hardware store? Well, there go five hours of my life…” you quipped, snickering into your drink.

“That was one time!”

“When is this little family road trip taking place exactly? A year from now? Two?”

“They have a lot of stuff, alright?!”

“I’m guessing I don’t have to ask if this death trap has ISOFIX either,” you added, amusement lacing your voice.

“You’re exaggerating, sweetheart. The kids will be fine,” Russell insisted, brushing your concerns away with a chuckle.

Musingly, you gave a shrug. “Well, I guess the convertible is kind of nice,” you admitted, smiling.

“See? I knew you’d come around.” Your husband grinned a wide and satisfied smile.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s practical,” you agreed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “I mean, if we do get into an accident, at least the kids get flung out without a hindrance in their little ejection seats.”

Russell frowned, smacking his lips. His head bobbed. “Aaaaand I’m done talking with you now. I’m going back inside.”

“No, wait!” you called after your husband with a jittering laugh as he strolled toward the porch. “We haven’t even talked about our next family vacation yet! How about Ukraine? Or Gaza? You know, I heard the Fires of Mordor are super nice this time of year, too…”

“Alright, no second coffee for you,” Russell huffed playfully, holding the front door open for you as you trailed after him.

“Hey, maybe we can all go skydiving this afternoon,” you deadpanned your suggestion as you strolled past Russell inside the house. “But without parachutes. God knows safety is for uncool losers.”

“Okay, I hear ya. No kids in the Chevelle,” Russell relented with two placating palms, laughing. He then grabbed your hand and tugged you to him. He smiled at the familiar mischievous twinkle in your eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But how about we get a babysitter for tonight, and you and I take a little drive, huh? Put on a little Dad Rock, and I rock your world, sweetheart…”

You suppressed a bubble of laughter. “What exactly is Dad Rock?”

“You know, little Zeppelin, Eagles, Tom Petty, Springsteen…” Russell listed, his lips then curving into a cheeky smirk. “Look, I promise any questions you may have about that backseat, I’ll try my best to answer, sweetheart.”

You snorted another laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Uh-huh, I’m sure you will. But granted, I like this idea a little more than the first one.”

Russell grinned so much his cheeks hurt. “Told you you’d love her!”

I swear I love the car, but I couldn't resist bringing in the mom perspective 😂🩵

Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @spxideyver

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @lori19

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @misatxox @impala67rollingthroughtown

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

[waynes-multiverse]

I was honestly never big on Beauty and the Beast myself (my sister loves it, tho haha), but it really does have the vibe. It's hard to deny 😆 (and you can even throw a little Notebook in there as well lol)

And we have enemies to lovers with a bit of a twist since 1942!Ben has no clue they're enemies. Poor guy 😂

Can't wait to share this and talk Terminator references with you!! 🤓🩵🩵🩵

Time After Time – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language and mature themes, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), a lot of time travel talk, set partially in 1942 and the present (alternate S3 ending), PTSD, Soldier Boy before Soldier Boy (aka no powers yet, plus meet his childhood home and parents), slight Beauty/Beast vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff, humor, angst

A/N: Been wanting to write about time travel again since this fun one-shot. Got the idea while writing Bad Reputation years ago but never got to it. Felt challenged again after rewatching the Community episode where Dean Pelton whines, "Time travel is really hard to write about." Welp, challenge accepted 😂🤍

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints… – Coming March 28 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – Coming April 4 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 3: I’m Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me – Coming to Patreon March 14

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day – Coming to Patreon March 21

Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris – Coming to Patreon March 28

...and more to come 🕰️

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh, girl, I get it! It always takes me forever to do that 😂🩵

But OMFG In The End will kill me, won't it??? 💀

Yup, definitely! And judging from that damn sneak peek, you're also planning to break my heart, I see 🥲💔

So, I'm guessing reader dies in the future, and Dean's all alone and sulky (and sleeping around with camp girls), and then, BAM, past!reader and past!Dean show up? Is that what will happen? Okay, don't tell me!!! (Not that you would lol). But gaaaaah!!! I'm excited for this! Endverse!Dean fics are always one of my favs 😍🖤

And awwww, Life As We Know It sounds so sweet with them being together for so long! And I can totally see the Ross/Mark/Rachel thing here, especially with Dean's insecurities. Hope he's a better sport than Ross in the end, though, supports his girl and doesn't send a barbershop quartet 😂💕

Coming for the WIP game 😎✌️

Please tell me all the things about:

✨ In The End (Endverse!Dean x reader) -> Uuuuh I blacked out after reading Endverse!Dean, so obviously I needs to know stat 🤌

✨ Life as We Know It (Mechanic!Dean x reader) -> Gimme Mechanic!Dean under a car (or me) all day long 😏 (I've also been working on a mechanic!Dean series but his job is pretty much secondary to the story lol)

Have a nice day/night/morning, Abbie!! ☺️🩵

Aww thank you Wayne! ☺️ I'm still trying to catch up on everyones WIP posts that I got tagged in, I still need to look at yours because I absolutely adore everything you put out and if I can get more deets on your WIP's---

Now In The End will be a two parter that I'm hoping to release after The arrangement series, or maybe a little before, if I finish up chapter 2. But it's going to be very Angsty and emotional.. I have to admit, I actually teared up writing the first chapter 😅. The first part will be set 3 years into the apocalypse (2012), so a little glimpse of Dean before the one we meet in 'The end' episode, and then part 2 will be two years after, with the Dean we all know.

Here is a little snippet of a tender moment between the two of them, there is a lot in the first chapter, but this scene is one of my favourite parts. 🥲

In The End - sneak peak...

“I scoped the place out two days ago with Marcus,” you murmured, voice gentle. “There aren’t too many croats, which means we won’t have to use as much ammo. It’ll be a quick in-and-out job.” He knew you were trying to reassure him, but it didn’t help. If he wasn’t there himself, he wouldn’t be at ease. “Hey, look at me,” you said, your voice firmer this time. You guided his chin up, your fingers gentle but insistent. When he met your eyes, the early morning sunlight streamed into the hut, casting a soft glow around you. For a moment, you looked ethereal, almost angelic—a stark contrast to the broken, dark world outside. “I’ll be okay.” You whispered, your hands framing his jaw on either side, thumbs running back and forth over the few say old scruff on his cheeks. “Nothing, I repeat nothing, can keep me from coming back to you, Dean Winchester.” Your words hit him harder than he expected, lodging deep in his chest. His heart fluttered, his stomach twisted—a cocktail of nerves and the overwhelming love he felt for you. Love he realised he’d carried for years. Without words—he was never good with them—he tugged at the neckline of your/his shirt and guided your lips to his. He hoped the kiss could say what he couldn’t: I love you. I need you. Please come back to me. 

Funny, in my mechanic!Dean series, his job is a bit more of a background thought too 😅, more so to do with Dean's self esteem. But yes, gimme some Mechanic!Dean either way 🥵

I'm sorry I'm rambling, you're here for answers Dammit! 🤪

Life As We Know It will be following Dean and the reader as high school sweethearts, homeowners and engaged to be married. The reader has had a little set back in her career at the Lawrence times paper (dickhead boss) which has put a little strain on their relationship.

But then an old college friend of hers -enter- Jimmy Novak, who happens to be Chief editor of the Kansas City Star, which she had applied for, offers her the job off the bat.

However, there is some jealousy involved here (again with the Friends references 😆 I'm thinking a little Mark, Rachel, Ross scenario) then drama, angst, the usual occurs... 👀

I hope this has answered your ask? I'm sorry if I've rambled, but I've had such brain fog lately, it feels good to be getting back into things again 😀

Thanks again Wayne for the interest! I appreciate it so much 🥰💜

[waynes-multiverse]

These sound amazing!! 😍

And the long WIPs are always the best (and sometimes closest to heart), so I can't wait to see what you do with it! I already have so many questions about it 😂 Does she get powers? I'm so curious to see how her life changed and how she got involved in the supernatural through her accident 👀

And I can already see myself frothing at the mouth over a structured, dutiful, all-business Dean 🔥 (with an edge 'cause mafia 😏). Excited for their meet-cute! 🩵

Hiya Jess!! I'm here for a little belated WIP Folder Game 🤓

Please tell me more about:

✨ When lightning strikes you (Dean x reader series) -> I immediately loved the title! I've always been a fan of the lightning imagery and can't wait to see what this is about ⚡️

✨ Behind the shadows (Dean x reader series) -> Yeah, you had me at mafia AU. Whaaaaat??? 👀👏

Hope you had a lovely day! 🩵

Hi Wayne! 👋🏻

Aahh, you wanna know the tea about my two series. I see you. 😏🤭 I'm happy to tell you a little bit more.

So, for the first one:

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: 9 years ago Y/N got struck by a lighting and her whole life changed. In a crash course she realized that the Supernatural is real and she has a mission to complete. But when her path crosses with the Winchesters, an ugly truth comes to the surface. And her developing feelings for Dean were definitly something she did not expect to happen.

This is actually one of the stories that's been the longest in my WIP. And I think I have already 18 chapters outlined. But I haven't finished it yet.

And for the second one:

• Behind the shadows

I still haven't worked on a proper summary for this one, but I try to explain what this is about in a few sentences.

Dean Winchester is the son of John Winchester, the current mafia kingpin of New York. John plans to retire soon and pass his empire on to Dean. And Dean takes this very seriously. His life is highly structured and dedicated to the family business. He has no time for anything else.

Completely unaware of what's happening behind the shadows underground, Y/N tries to navigate her life and help her ailing mother. The burden on her shoulders weighs heavily and she feels like she can't catch a break.

So what happens when these two people meet? When these two very different lives collide? Will something change, or will everything collapse?

This idea actually sparked from an old K-Drama. (Yeah, I'm outing myself here 😂) And The Adjustment Bureau helped, too. I'm still outlining this one and it will probably be a slow burn with a hint of enemies to lovers. Or at least that's what I have planned.

I hope you like it. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜

[waynes-multiverse]

Hahaha of course I had to pick these two! 😂 But they're both on my tbr, so hopefully I'll get there before these come out 👀

And I can't believe I missed the ABBA reference in the title! It did sound familiar, but my mind went to literature 😅

And holy shit! Who Are You In The Dark? sounds awesome! Dean cursed to a life as Death? Gimme!! I absolutely love this idea! Especially with her meeting him as a kid Sixth Sense style 😆 But poor girl! Other kids get fun imaginary friends like Sully and mermaids and she gets a grumpy Death 😭😂

Totally can see where you're going with this. You do not need to say more 😁 Can't wait to read it!!

Hi there, friend! Finally coming over for the WIP tag game *rubs palms together* 🤓

Puh-lease tell me more about:

✨ Soldier Boy: Something Bad Is Happening, I'm Sure You Do Agree (Mini-Series) -> I looove that title! It sounds poetic but in a funny kind of way? Does that make sense? But I'd love to know what it's about. My mind is spinning!!

✨ Soldier Boy: Technical Difficulties (Series) -> Picked this one because SB and technical difficulties? I'd buy it. Gimme gimme gimme (a man who can't work his phone) 🤣

✨ Dean Winchester: Who Are You In The Dark? -> I got chills when I read this title!! It sounds perfectly angsty for my dark heart 👀🖤

Happy Sunday! I have a few things of yours queued for my reading list this week 🥰 And btw, I think I know what In The End I'd Do It All Again is about and I so can't wait for that one!! 😍

@waynes-multiverse

Hey Wayne! 🤗

Thank you so much for sending in an Ask about my WIPs!! I'm very excited to explain my unhinged ideas to you *evil laugh* 😂

Girl, I'm not going to lie, um... you picked the two Soldier Boy fic series/mini-series that are sequels to my other series and I'm not sure if you've read them yet 🤣😅

Something Bad Is Happening, I'm Sure You Do Agree

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

I actually can't take credit for the title because it's a line from the ABBA song "On and On and On" 😂 (I know how much you like ABBA) But, this mini-series takes place about a year after my Take A Chance On Me Series (wanted to keep the ABBA theme lol). I don't want to give too much away, because I'm not sure you've read the first series yet and I know you said it was on your tbr😅

Technical Difficulties

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Okay... Um... this one is also a follow up to another series I wrote that was just a crazy, insane, multiverse idea with Dean Winchester and Soldier Boy. It's called It's Not A Big Deal, and it might be one of my favorite things that I've ever written tbh lol. But you can technically read this series as stand alone. I did already describe this one to somebody and I'm going to put the link here, so you can choose if you want to look at it or not. I just don't want to spoil the main series for you if you choose to read it 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Who Are You In The Dark?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Trope: Soulmates, Being in love with someone who won't admit they love you?

Title Based On: In the Dark By Camilla Cabello

Oh yeah, this one is perfectly angsty 😈

Okay, this one is not based on a series I've done before and I am SO excited about it! I'm not exactly sure if I want it to just be a one-shot or a mini-series yet. It's going to be more of a Hades x Persephone vibes story I think! The reader is going to be the bright spot in his life (Persephone) and Dean will be the dark (Hades).

This one is inspired by Season 6 Episode 11 of Supernatural when Dean has to be "Death for a Day." So my idea is what if Dean was cursed to be Death forever in exchange for Sam's soul?

So he's been Death for maybe a few hundred years, Sam is long dead, Dean's kinda hardened a little bit and he's sitting outside a playground and a little girl version of the reader starts talking to him. She can see him for some reason when no one else can and she can also touch him without dying. (Touch Starved Dean Alert!) And as she grows up Dean kinda pops in and out to watch out for her, but then he realizes he's getting attached to her, and she's getting attached to him, and he doesn't want her to because he's death, he can't exactly be a permanent fixture in her life (he thinks), so he says terrible things to her, breaks her little heart (she's maybe 12ish) and leaves...

So she grows up, writes Dean off as some imaginary friend she had as a kid. While Dean is sending the reapers to check up on her, reapers who have been alive much longer than him and know exactly why the reader can see Dean when no one else can and can touch him... I've got a bit more, but spoilers lol.

Oooo Yay! I can't wait to see what you read this week and what you think! 😊

And yes, you would be correct about In The End I'd Do It All Again, lol. I did do a little teaser for it here and another one of the Soldier Boy WIPs if you want to take a look 😁 I am still very excited about Time After Time as well! I can't wait to see where you take it 💗