whisperingwillowxox

[whisperingwillowxox]

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

[whisperingwillowxox]

😭😭😭

Chapter 2 - Series Masterlist

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie decide you're both showing up. grab some beer, bowl. let that melted cheese on your nachos bring you to a state of vulnerability.

wc: 6k

cw: bickering, smoking, bowling, and alcohol consumption

fic title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

I Saw the TV Glow was a big inspiration for this chapter. I don't know how to explain that. They couldn't be more opposite storylines. It did spark this idea so I still have to shout it out. And I listened to the soundtrack while writing it! Beautiful.

p.s. if you havent seen I Saw the TV Glow, you totally should. it's a very important story about queerness and one of the best movies to be released this year. anyways don't think about that right now. instead, go ahead and read this chapter that I'm very proud of. watch the movie after.

There once was a boy who made your impressionable heart swell. He was the class clown, the certified It Boy of your middle school class. Not a jock by any stretch of the imagination, all lanky and desperate for just a touch of peach fuzz on his upper lip. But he was charming. And funny. And cute.

He made the girls giggle and twirl their hair, imitating the exaggerations of television. They would wear makeup to school, always quick to pass around tubes of lip gloss as soon as they left their mothers’ cars. 

You, however, stayed true to yourself. You tried the natural approach, quite certain that he would like you if you didn’t act like the other girls. Sure, he never looked your way. He never gave you a second thought. But, for some reason, that meant something to you.

The day you were assigned a seat next to him in English, he’d forgotten his book. This was your shot. This was your moment. So you offered to share yours, heads huddled together to peer down at the pages of Catcher in the Rye. Your heart was pounding in your ears, shutting out the teacher completely.

After class, he’d thanked you. Asked for your name. Told you it was really pretty. Then he asked for your help on his next paper.

And you said yes immediately, a larva without the protection of a chrysalis.

You agonized over his papers, noting that he wasn’t necessarily the best writer or all that smart, but it was him. He trusted you with his words and that meant he could trust you with his heart. At some point.

Until the end of eighth grade when he invited you to meet him on the playground, behind a large oak tree that the kids used as cover to make out. You’d approached slowly, wearing the lipstick you’d stolen from the local pharmacy.

But when you peered around, you were drenched in spoiled milk. Milk. 

A chorus of laughter sounded and you watched in horror as your crush grinned at you like you were entertainment.

His friend handed him a five dollar bill and they ran off.

That was all you were worth.

After that, you thought you knew what hurt was. What it was like to learn your lesson and never allow yourself the ability to fall into something like that again. An unrequited crush. But that was before high school, where the boys got more clever in their humiliation. Fake love notes, getting handsy at dances before calling you a freak. 

You swore never to let a boy you liked be mean to you again. You meant it.

But never once did you believe it.

It’s just a bowling alley, you thought. Spending one night with him won’t kill me.

The parking lot was nearly deserted, outside of a few Hondas and a gray Chevy Astro. Two of the street lamps were blown out, the remaining three dulled by the fierce January chill. 

You wondered if Eddie would even show up. Maybe this was his prank, one with Ashton Kutcher as an accomplice waiting around in an alley and snickering to themselves. You’d believe it. He was devious enough to make it happen.

It would be a joke for the ages, after you’d applied makeup and spent time working on your hair. You’d put on something casual but seemingly more put together, a deep brown long-sleeved shirt, leaving the first two buttons popped. Layered on top was a cropped, dark green jacket with a hood. You’d settled for dark blue jeans and Converse, sure, but the muted nude pink lipstick you pathetically checked in the sun visor was a step above your usual stupidity.

But Eddie had been insistent about this and it hurt to admit it, but you believed him. In your hardest of hearts, you trusted his word. It was aggravating.

The clock struck seven and you gave yourself one last deep breath before you got out of your car and made your way to the entrance. 

Lanesman was a frequent spot for you, a solitary activity that gave you an excuse to revert to your childhood. After you’d moved back and took this job, you found yourself gravitating towards what used to bring you joy. Bowling with the kid bumpers apparently did the trick.

Working at a high school made you realize that growing up didn’t mean forgetting. It didn’t mean an automatic erasure of what used to soothe your blues. If anything, it reinforced your need for that promise of safety.

The lobby was beige and dull, walls smattered in faded neon paint that hadn’t been updated since your youth. A miserable looking teenager stood at the concession stand, frustratedly trying to get the popcorn to pop. 

As you scanned further, you felt something shock your system as you saw Eddie standing there, waving at you with his plethora of rings twinkling in a fluorescent haze.

He looked nice tonight, with a black Henley, jeans, and Converse that mirrored yours. He started towards you, leaving you to notice the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. A hint of black could be spotted underneath, a wave of embarrassment washing over you as you wondered what tattoos he hid underneath.

But the thing that got you was his hair.

You’d never seen it down before, couldn’t even estimate how long you thought it would be. It hung in wavy curtains around his face and draped onto his shoulders. This was something you hadn’t seen coming. And here he was, sidling up to you.

“You’re early,” you started.

“Yeah, well,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m honestly shocked you showed up.”

“Yes, it seems that we are both in a state of shock.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ll have to trust me eventually, you know.”

“We’ll see about that,” you shot back, shaking your head.

He snorted. “Alright, well. I’ll get the shoes if you get the beer.”

“I can do that,” you agreed before giving him your shoe size.

Eddie lifted his fingers and shot you with finger guns. “Always believed in you.”

He winked. 

Frustration flooded your system as he held your gaze for a moment too long. “I’m leaving now,” you murmured before walking away.

“You do that.”

Yeah, I will, you thought. Dickhead.

You made your way to the counter where that poor kid held up a finger as he attempted to fix the popcorn machine. The sounds of the arcade in the other room projected into the concession area, electronic sounds and buzzers trying to lure children in. As if there were any here in the first place. 

Eventually you ordered, getting a pitcher of beer and nachos. As you waited for the cheese machine to whirl back to life, you found your eyes wandering over towards the shoe hut. 

Eddie was laughing at something the kid said before taking two pairs of shoes and heading towards the back where the lanes were. Those areas were covered in blue wallpaper with pink squiggles, glowing neon in the rotating lights. He faded into the glow, dropping the shoes onto the table. 

You wondered why he’d gotten here early, going so far as to avoid the observation once you’d acknowledged it. This wasn’t even including his attitude being much more reserved than usual. He didn’t mock you once in that entire interaction. 

The night was still young, though.

When you walked over, Eddie’s eyes lit up at the sight of goodies in your arms.

“Beer and nachos?” he asked.

“Got a problem with nachos?”

Eddie grabbed a chip, drenching it in as much cheese as he could. “No, but you will after I eat all of them,” he said before tossing it into his mouth.

“Of course you’d never leave me any,” you commented as you set down the cups, beer, and nachos next to the shoes. 

He swallowed before shaking his head. “You know I can just get us some more, right?”

You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over his. “So that you can eat all of those, too?”

“These are some harsh accusations.”

“They’re hunches,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Come on. Tonight’s supposed to be about starting over, remember?”

You knew he was right. This was supposed to be a truce. Where was your can-do attitude? 

You took a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Yes. Starting over.”

Eddie smiled at you before throwing out his hand. “Hi, I’m Eddie Munson. Nice to meet you.”

You stared down at his hand. “We’re doing this?”

His smile widened. “We are.”

“Okay, fine.” You introduced yourself before taking his hand in yours. Shaking it, you added, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What do you do for work?”

You snorted. “Uh, I’m a freshman English teacher at South Jefferson High School.”

He gave you a surprised expression. “You’re serious?”

“Uh, yeah?” you asked, confused.

He placed his free hand on his chest. “I’m a freshman English teacher at South Jefferson High School.” 

That was when you realized what was going on. What Eddie was attempting to do. You were really starting over. And if he was animated about this bit then, fuck it, you could be, too. 

Enthusiastically, you exclaimed, “What? That’s crazy!”

Eddie grinned, sparking something inside you. “Isn’t it?”

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?” you asked, fully playing along now.

“I don’t know! I’m in room 11A.”

You gasped. “I’m in 14A.”

“This is so bizarre.”

“I know. Small world, huh?”

In the silence that followed, you became aware of pressure that remained against your palm. The forgotten sensation that had your eyes lowering to your hand. They were joined, warmth being passed back and forth as your playful exchange came to a close. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

So, you let go.

“Wanna bowl?” you asked, still feeling hazy. “With…me?”

Eddie coughed before sticking his hands in his back pockets. “Absolutely. Though, I have to warn you that I have the bumpers up.”

You smiled. “That’s the only way to play.”

Eddie won the first round. 

However, much to his dismay, you won the second.

It involved a lot of groans, snorts, and retreats to the beer pitcher in between turns. Overall, it was a pretty civil affair which surprised Eddie. He wondered how you felt about it.

The two of you now sat on top of the joint tables, having gone through a second pitcher of beer and demolished another helping of nachos. There’d only been one or two lanes taken up since you started, the room still in near silence outside of “I Wanna Love You” by Akon and Snoop Dogg playing over the crackled speakers. 

You sat close to one another, mirroring each other. Both you and Eddie were hunched over, feet planted on the chair in front. But as the conversation continued, you were turning closer to one another. The distance didn’t really feel like distance anymore.

Eddie was finishing off his final sip of beer when you suggested, “What if we did honesty hour?”

He glanced over at you, slowly lowering his cup. “What, like ask each other questions?”

“Yeah, and the other person has to answer. Nonegotiable.”

That was rather brave of you. And bold. You avoided any and all sense of trying to understand him. Not once did you ask him a question that wasn’t drenched in kerosene. Plus, what did you know about honesty? You grew defensive at any hint of curiosity and hostile when he reiterated whatever you told him. Could this really be considered progress or just a chance to seem like the good guy?

“Oh, I don’t know if you could handle your own game,” he challenged.

“What!” you exclaimed, lifting your hands.

He shook his head, unable to believe you were seriously that shocked. “You always have this look in your eye,” he said, wiggling his fingers in your face.

“What look?” you asked, slapping his hand away.

“Like you’re withholding information.”

One of your eyebrows twitched. “Is it wrong for me to keep some things to myself?” you argued, a forced chuckle leaving your lips. “I don’t need to tell you every thought in my head.”

“Why not?” “Because you make fun of everything I do!”

Eddie shook his head again, your irony bordering on comical. “You get mad at everything I do. Why do you get to be all high and mighty about it?”

“Because at least I keep my opinions to myself.”

“You make your opinions very clear, actually.” You rolled your eyes. “Okay, so are we gonna start or what? I don’t wanna do this if you’re gonna keep getting defensive.”

You let out a small groan. “Okay, yes. Fine.”

“We’ll start off easy, okay?” You nodded. “What was your favorite part of Napoleon Dynamite?”

You chuckled, catching him off guard. Then you smiled and an unexpected ease filled his chest. “Oh, most definitely Napoleon test tasting the milk.”

“It’s so nasty,” he agreed, feeling a laugh escape him. “Almost as good as the part when he watches Pedro ride his bike and asks if he can too and—”

“And he breaks the ramp!” you finished for him.

He nodded emphatically. “Yes, exactly!”

“I loved it. It was really funny.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“You have one point,” you told him, holding up your pointer finger. “One.”

He shrugged. “That’s one more than yesterday.”

“Guess that means it’s my turn to ask a question?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I have a few more.”

“What? I came up with the idea.”

“Yes, but you always dodge answering anything honestly.”

“As if you don’t say anything other than,” you lowered your voice, “Oh, look at me. I’m so cool. You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m just so cool.”

Eddie snorted. “And what do you think you do?” He raised the pitch of his voice. “What? How dare you! Stop that! Ugh. I could never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “I do sound like that.”

“Finally rolling an eighteen for once.”

You paused. Eddie watched as you looked down. “Did you just…” you trailed, eyes slowly coming back up to meet his. “Did you just make a Dungeons and Dragons reference?”

“Maybe.”

A loud chortle flew through the air as you exclaimed, “Oh my god! You’re a nerd!”

He rolled his eyes. “Nerd? Really? Are we in high school?” You gave him a playful shrug. “The fact that you know the rules means you’re just as big of a nerd as I am.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “It’s not a bad thing. It just feels like. Well. I don’t know. I guess, to me, it feels like you’re a real human being now.”

“That’s because you have forgotten to ask me anything about myself.” You opened your mouth, but he beat you to the punch. “Which you can do after I ask mine.”

“Okay, fine,” you replied with a huff.

“Do you actually enjoy teaching at SJ?”

“Of course I do,” you said too quickly, eyes narrowing.

Eddie shook his head. “Defensive. I really am asking. It’s not a trap.”

“Fine, fine,” you agreed, holding up your hands. “I enjoy what I’ve started doing. I mean, I don’t think I’ve made the impact that I’ve wanted to, which was why getting the opportunity to do this full-time was really exciting.”

“Do you think this’ll be a long term thing? Teaching here?”

“I hope so. Maybe not forever, but I want to right now. I think I owe it to these kids who’re already in such a vulnerable phase in their lives. It keeps getting scarier out in the world. The least I can do is try to help make it easier with the small pocket of time I have in their lives.”

“That’s really sweet,” Eddie whispered, and he meant it.

“Oh, thanks,” you whispered back. “I mean it.”

“Does your family live around here? Or your, uh, boyfriend.” He panicked when you raised an eyebrow. “Or girlfriend. I, uh, I don’t judge.”

Shaking your head, you said, “No, my family isn’t around. I haven’t seen them in over a year. I moved back and then they moved across the country. Besides, we barely call. We’re all bad at using the phone. I write them sometimes, but it’s usually attached to cheesy holiday cards.” You looked down at your cup. “And no. I don’t have a partner of any kind at the moment.”

“Interesting,” he said.

“Do you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I what?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”

Eddie almost said, “Why do you wanna know?” But you were making real progress for once. He couldn’t fuck it up now. Not when your eyes were returning to his, brave and unafraid now.

“I do not,” he answered. “I don’t have a partner of any kind right now.”

“And your family?”

It was his turn to cower away. “Yikes,” he whispered, planting a goofy expression on his face to soften the blow. “Uh, yeah. My dad’s in jail and my mom passed when I was a kid. My uncle lived around here but he actually met a nice guy so now they pose as roommates in Ohio.”

“What’s in Ohio?”

That was your answer? To everything he just said, giving you the basics of a fucked up childhood, the only thing you had to respond with was a question about what state his uncle and his boyfriend settled on?

“Dave, I guess,” he replied, studying your lack of expression. You let out a hum and nodded. “Does that not, like, weird you out?”

“What part exactly?”

“My parents.”

You shook your head. “No, not really.”

“Hm.”

“Do you want me to be weirded out?”

“No, I…” Eddie trailed before taking a deep breath. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

You nodded. “Then you’ll be absolutely ecstatic to know that I am far from being weirded out.”

“Incredible,” he said lightly, trying to force out a laugh. He sobered up quickly when you gave him a closed-lip smile. “Last question.”

“Hit me.”

Do you really hate me?

He blinked. “Would you go outside with me and share a cigarette?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

So you climbed off the tables, grabbing your jackets and heading back out the front door. Eddie had been eyeing your appearance all night, especially the lipstick you’d donned. You never wore lipstick at work and you hadn’t the last few times he saw you around the city. Why now?

If only asking questions didn’t get him annihilated. 

“I’ve actually decided I want my own,” you said, turning toward him.

“Of course you do.” Your breaths fogged together as you chuckled. “Are you finally gonna try a Marlboro Red?”

Your smile bordered on mischief as you pointed your thumb at the parking lot. “I mean, I have a pack of Newports in my car. I could always go get them.”

Eddie shook his head, slipping his pack out of his jacket. “Nah, I don’t trust you to come back.”

Snapping, you said, “Damn. You foiled my epic evil plan.”

“I see right through you.”

“You sure do.”

Eddie held out a lone cigarette for you to take. You gave him a small smile before plucking it from his fingers and sliding it between your teeth. He tried handing you the lighter but you shook your head.

“You’re not gonna light it for me?” you asked around the cigarette. “Some manners you’ve got.”

With only a snort as a response, Eddie lit both of your cigarettes at the same time. The smoke swirled through the air, mimicking a blanket of snow you were sure to get in the next few weeks.

The banter between you was nice. Eddie had made his peace with the constant back and forth, but nothing felt better than this. The two of you being civil and, if not friends, friendly. Your scowl had faded, leaving behind your gentler expressions. If he didn’t find you beautiful before, there was something almost explosive about what he saw now.

He wondered what it was like to grow up so wondrous. What kind of kid you were and whether you experienced the atrocities that he had in high school. What did you turn into after, when you could grasp at the sleeves of freedom? Did your fingers ever slip?

You bent down to stub out the cigarette before tossing it in the trash can next to the door. Eddie watched you, wondering how he could keep you from leaving. Sure, you probably weren’t thinking about leaving. But. Still.

He needed more time with you. He needed more time to understand you. And if you were to walk away from here tonight without divulging those details, he thought he’d explode. Especially when you’d be back as coworkers the following week.

So, he got an idea.

“We should go to the little arcade inside.”

“Why, so I can beat your ass?”

“Woah there!” Eddie exclaimed. “Trash talk. I like it.”

You took a step towards the door, watching as he flicked his cigarette out onto the pavement. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Before you could pull any further, Eddie was taking the handle from you. “I should do it more often,” he replied, gesturing for you to walk through.

“It’s only ‘cause I’m a little tipsy.”

“You didn’t have to drink the beer. I mean, it is kinda shitty.”

You shrugged. “I’ve been having fun. Sue me.”

“Then you’ll be excited to know that the arcade is the final showdown.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, think about it. I won the first round. You won the second, right?” You nodded. “So who is the winner?”

“We could tie and practice good sportsmanship.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You giggled. You fucking giggled.

It jolted him. It wasn’t lightning, but rather the shock of static electricity on an unforgiven doorknob. 

“You’re right,” you said with a shrug.

God, he really fucking liked you.

“We’ll play three rounds,” Eddie started, fiddling with the coins in his hands. “First are Galaga and Target Terror. And then, for our final showdown? The claw machine.”

“The claw machine is rigged,” you argued. “We’ll both lose.”

“Yeah, with that attitude.” You snorted. “You can’t know if you don’t try.”

Instead of whipping up some witty comeback, you trudged over to the dusty Galaga machine, noting that one of the coin slots was shattered.

Eddie came to stand next to you, plopping a coin in your palm before you thrusted it into the unbroken slot and took off.

One thing you’d failed to mention up until this point was how shitty you were at any and all arcade games. You’d once thought Galaga was your favorite, something you gravitated towards as a kid. The flashes of neon against the black, with only specks of color to create the illusion of a night sky. It always drew you in, the feeling that you were escaping somewhere outside yourself. Outside of the reality— 

“Oh, come on, really?” you exclaimed as you failed. 

“You’re just smashing the keys,” Eddie groaned.

You shot him a look. “But that’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“Well,” he started, bumping your hip with his. “Doesn’t matter now ‘cause you’re dead. Officially. Time for you to scoot over. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you switched places. 

And, boy, were you immediately intimidated.

Eddie was a whiz, all calm and collected as he focused on the screen like his life depended on it. His fingers stretched, skillfully defending space from the countless hoards of aliens and other creatures that dared to cross his path. 

He finally died at the low low score of 140,820. 

“What the fuck?” you muttered as he took a step back and grinned at you.

“So that’s, what, two points now for me and one for you?”

You tried to suppress your glare. “Good job,” you said through your teeth.

Eddie gave you a bow. “Why, thank you. Sometimes it pays off to be a nerd.”

It wasn’t that you were a sore loser. But you were with a sore winner. Now it was time to get your revenge. How you would do that was beyond you, but you had to try.

“Come on,” you told him.

Your next destination was the Target Terror, taking the red gun before he even approached. For good measure, you turned and pretended to shoot him. Eddie let out a dramatic gasp before clutching his chest and falling to the floor.

Laughter tumbled out of you without any thought, made boisterous when he twitched and kept making the stupidest noises you’d ever heard before finally playing dead.

“Bravo,” you complimented.

Like a flattened cartoon character, he regenerated and sprung back up to his feet. 

“I’m a natural, I know,” he responded, sliding coins in for you both.

“Yeah, you should be the next drama teacher.”

He grabbed the blue gun. “I actually think I’d kick ass at it.”

He didn’t sound like he was joking.

As you went to shoot the start button, you couldn’t help but look over at Eddie. He was checking out the gun and deciding on his hand placement as if that mattered. But you were thinking about something else.

Eddie was a good guy, wasn’t he? Take away his revolting arrogance and inability to keep his mouth shut and you could see a person underneath. His ambition mirrored yours and maybe, just maybe, his heart had been in the right place all along. Maybe there was more to him that you wanted to learn.

You wanted to be his friend.

Eddie caught your eye, pausing to look up at you. “What?” he asked. “You waiting on me?”

“Um.” You made yourself look back at the screen. “Yeah, I want to win fair and you’re taking too long. So. Uh. Let’s play.”

Without another word, you shot the first level and the two of you were off, trying to kill as many bad guys as you could. Though, they were kinda lame, just some guys in hoodies and sunglasses. A few of them were women which you appreciated, but they were the only ones who seemed like they had any real backstories. 

You tried not to sneak a glance over at Eddie’s score, but you couldn’t help it. You were winning. He seemed to be struggling, glancing over at you every so often. His frustrated looks sat in your peripheral, leaving you with a shit eating grin on your face as you took your sweet time. 

“What the hell,” he said when it hit game over.

You pretended to blow smoke off of your plastic gun before putting it back. “You were just smashing the trigger,” you said. “So, that’s, what? Two points for me, two for you?”

Eddie sighed. “Guess I deserved that one.”

You smirked. 

The claw machine was the final destination, lined in yellow and emitting a neon glow. Turning to look at Eddie, you saw the neon illuminating his dark eyes which were solely on you. 

You nearly did a double take, suddenly overwhelmed by the exposure.

“What?” you asked.

“What?” he retorted, smirking.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’re really pretty.”

Your gut twisted again. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’

“I feel like you look at me as some, I don’t know, clownish hag or something.”

“Clownish hag?” he repeated.

“Or something.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re just saying that because that’s how you see me.”

“You think that I think you’re a clownish hag?”

“Isn’t that why you’re so annoyed by me?”

“No, I’m annoyed by you because your goal in life is to make mine miserable.”

“Sure, yeah. Let’s go with that.” You rolled your eyes. “So how do you see me then? Hm?” “I mean, a guy like you already knows how pretty he is. I don’t think I have to be the one to tell you that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Pretty, huh?”

“What?” you asked, blinking.

“You think I’m pretty, too.”

“Objectively, yes.”

“Objectively,” he repeated, snorting.

“You can’t deny it.”

“Only if you don’t deny finding me pretty.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Come on.” He gestured towards the machine. “Go ahead and try.”

Your eyes lingered on him for possibly a second too long before you returned your attention to the claw machine. Hitting the start button, you moved the claw around the box. You were sure this was going to fail. There was no other way for this to go.

Eddie called me pretty.

It was a rigged system. You give them your money, left with the unspoken contract that this was a game of chance. You paid for what you got in the end. No take backs. No refunds. What you ended up with was what you ended up with. There was no return to the way things were before you gave away something so special. 

Eddie called me pretty.

But in the end, there really was nothing left to lose. So, you slammed your hand down on the button.

Eddie called me pretty.

Slowly, the claw extended and fell against a small tiger plushie. It clamped down on its head before slowly rising. You gasped as it stayed secure and moved towards the safety box inside. Then, the claw opened.

And you won.

Almost simultaneously, you and Eddie erupted in shrieks, jumping up and down as you stared at the machine in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed.

His eyes sparkled. “You did it!” 

“I know! That was crazy!”

Eddie laughed and gave you a high five. “That was amazing.”

You shrugged. “I’m the best, what can I say?”

“Can’t disagree with you there, sweetheart.”

You felt your eyes widen, mirroring the same exact movement now coming from him. 

Sweetheart.

Of all the names you’d been given from crushes, part-time lovers, and partners, never had you heard the word sweetheart.

It sent a wave of bubbles to your gut before floating up, up, up and into your throat. You tried to clear it, but nothing could get it out. Eddie held your stare, seemingly unable to make a comment. Unable to call you out for what you surely knew he knew despite you not really knowing for yourself. 

What was happening?

“Eddie?”

You heard him take a sharp inhale as his name left your lips. It was the first time you’d uttered it out loud. To yourself. To someone else.

To him.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, slowly. “Anything.”

You could feel yourself unraveling. “Do you really want to be my friend?” you whispered.

Eddie’s expression softened. “Of course I do.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even blink.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The catch in your throat was enough.

Eddie’s hands lifted, fingers slowly curling around your cheeks before bringing your lips to his. 

It was the meteor you never saw coming. A gentle kind of impact. It’s intense and explosive, but there’s safety. Somehow, Eddie’s the reason why. 

He was gone too quickly, not giving you enough time to process why he was making you feel this way. But his eyes met yours and suddenly he was the breathless one.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, taking slow blinks.

You didn’t know what to say. Too many questions were caught in your throat. Was this manipulation? Was this real? And if it was, did that mean he liked you? Did that mean that you liked him?

But Eddie began to take a step back and it angered you to no end.

“Don’t you dare,” you grumbled, grabbing onto that stupid open collar of his. “Come here.” You pulled him back toward you, connecting your lips once more.

The trance fixed itself, your brain struck with neon pixels of excitement, of bewilderment. There was this need to completely consume him. To take his breath as your own so that you may understand who he is and what makes this so different.

You knew you’d never be the same after this ended.

Eddie was quick to reverse the roles, turning you around pulling you to the other side of the claw machine, hiding you both. You had no problem shoving him against the wall, both hands on his chest now. 

He broke through your arms, reaching for your jaw once more and dragging you closer. As if that were possible. As if there was any space left between your bodies. 

It wasn’t desire. It was necessity.

Your fingers locked around his hips, digging your fingernails as hard as you could. It was instinctual, like there was no other way this could go.

He let out a deep moan, sounding more like a growl than anything else. It sprung you further as you pressed your hips against his. You found friction and chased it without hesitation. 

Hands moved down to your neck, squeezing ever so lightly.

Your goosebumps rose like static electricity. 

But then someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

You jumped away, turning to find the kid from the counter. “Uh, yeah, hi. Please stop making out in the arcade.”

“Oh, sorry,” you said.

All he did was shrug and walk away.

Slowly, your heart slowed down and you dared yourself to look back at Eddie, his pink lips coated in your lipstick.

His eyes were already on yours, but you could see little flickers to your lips. It restarted that pumping, pushing you to take a step forward.

So did he.

His hand found your elbow and drew you forward.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“That was…” he trailed.

“It was what?” you asked, feeling dread pool in your stomach.

He paused. Too long, your thoughts echoed. Too long.

And that’s when it finally hit you.

Eddie hadn’t given you a second glance before the book club debacle started. There was no indication of interest or intrigue, settling on December as the start date of his ventures. December, when it was finalized that the two of you would be sponsoring together. 

He’d come into the break room for lunch. He had to know you’d be in there, had to know already that you were co-sponsors. Why else would he try to rile you up? Why else would he try to befriend you?

He was tricking you.

This had been his plan all along. 

He was trying to get you to forget all about the book club. He was trying to take it for himself. You knew he’d certainly read enough books to know how to do it. 

This was what men did. They got you alone, vulnerable, and then stabbed you in the back. Their games were always the same. 

You’d grown up, but you were still just as naive as you were at eleven. Fifteen. Nineteen. Twenty-five.

“What am I doing?” you wondered out loud, glancing at him one last time before you turned and walked towards your coat and purse.

Eddie didn’t follow you.

Once more, you smoothed the wrinkles in your white button down and red floral skirt. Your heel-clad feet ached as you leaned against the desk at the head of the room. Next to you was Eddie, back to his bun and waiter uniform. He stood a few feet away, but you were more than conscious of his presence.

It was cumbersome, lighting your skin on fire as you gave fake smiles to every student filing into your classroom at three-ten in the afternoon. The tension was palpable, found in the awkward silence that rested between the two of you.

One by one, the students sat down and made small talk with their friends. They laughed and giggled, eyes flickering over to you two every so often.

But at three-fifteen, you heard Eddie clear his throat.

“We’re going to start by re-introducing ourselves,” he started.

You both said your names.

You couldn’t help but glance over at Eddie, watching as he did the same.

Quickly averting your gaze, you took a quick breath and looked back at the kids.

“So,” you said. “Who wants to go first?”

requested tagging: @anukulee, @twihard28, @doorlesscub00, @whisperingwillowxox, @ubiquitous-corvids, @kellsck

thank you to @littlexdeaths for her dividers :')

[whisperingwillowxox]

Tav: I want to hear those three little words.

Astarion: I love you.

Tav: That's sweet. Try again.

Astarion: *pouts and crosses arms* Fine. I will behave.

Narrator: Astarion did not behave. Later that day, he went on a goblin killing spree and got in a fight with an old lady.

[whisperingwillowxox]

Operation Meat Man

Summary: Reader, Jack, Sam, and Cas attempt to steal Dean's Thanksgiving pie without getting caught.

Pairing: DeanxReader

Warnings: None other than cursing and slight sexual innuendo, i believe.

A/N: This was just a fun little thing i started this afternoon, that turned into something much longer than i thought it would be. As always, written quickly and edited poorly. Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated, stealing my work is not.

18+ only

“Sasquatch, come in, Sasquatch. This is Baby Two. Over.” The walkie-talkie crackles as I release the button on its side. Jack glances nervously over at me from his position on the other side of the door, he places a finger to his lips and nods toward the kitchen where we can hear Dean humming the guitar solo to “Black Dog” as he bastes the turkey.

                I huff in frustration and press the button again, “Sasquatch, seriously, come in!”

                “Why do I have to be ‘Sasquatch’?” Sam’s voice grumbles from the speaker, “You couldn’t have picked anything else?”

                I roll my eyes and bring the walkie-talkie to my lips again, “You shot me down when I offered ‘Samantha’ so no, you don’t get another choice.” I release the button again and nod toward the kitchen, where Jack looks quickly and shakes his head, holding up a finger. “Not yet” he mouths. I press the button and speak lowly, “Cutie-Patootie says the coast isn’t clear yet. Where are you and BFBF?”

                The crackle from the radio doesn’t last as long this time and when he speaks the annoyance is clear in his voice, “BFBF? Is that supposed to be Cas? What does that even mean?”

                “My Boyfriends Boyfriend.” I reply quickly, “That’s not the point, where are you?”

                “We’re on the other side of the kitchen. How did you rope me into this?” He mutters, and I see him quickly stick his head around the opposite door before sneaking back behind the frame, “I mean, the pie’s good, but we could wait until dinner.”

                Jack shakes his head furiously from beside me and holds out a hand for the radio. I slide it over to him and keep an eye on Dean as Jack speaks, “No! He’ll eat it all while he cooks, and you know it!” His eyebrows are furrowed as he whispers into the speaker, and I grin a little at the frustrated look on the Nephilim’s face. I give him a high five as he passes the radio back to me, nodding in appreciation. We watch Dean finally turn his back to us and head to put the turkey in the oven, glancing to one another we nod in unison, matching grins on our faces.

                “Alright, alright. Say when, we’re ready.” Sam’s voice crackles through once more and the grin stretching across my face couldn’t grow any bigger.

                I press the button once more and narrow my eyes at Dean’s back, “Operation Distract the Meat Man is a go.” I crouch down beside Jack as Sam and Cas step into the kitchen, Sam sending a nod our way when Dean turns to face them. We both slide into the room and head toward the oven where I can see the pie filled pan on the stovetop.

                Dean quirks a brow at the two men as he wipes his hands on a towel in the apron pocket, “Why are you in here?”

                “We were just…” Sam glances quickly to Cas as he tries to remember the plan, and I take the opportunity to crawl closer to the stovetop, “Uh, we’re just…”

                “Looking for the remote.” Cas blurts out monotonously, “We thought it could possibly be in here. With you.”

                If Dean’s eyebrows could’ve risen any higher, they would be on the ceiling, I scowl as we wait for his response, “Looking for the remote? In the kitchen?” I send Sam a look of frustration over my shoulder, and he shrugs causing Dean to start to turn his head. My eyes widen as I flatten myself to the floor when Sam slings an arm out and knocks over the empty pots beside him.

                “Hey! Watch what you’re doing!” Dean yells, rushing over to grab the pots from where they’ve scattered by the door, “The remote isn’t in here. Now help me get these up and then get out of here.”

                Cas grumbles something about using the remote as a spoon and slowly walks over to help pick up the pots while Sam slides to block Jack and I from view in case Dean were to look our way. Jack nudges my shoe, nodding toward the pie. I nod back, turning to make sure Dean is nowhere in sight. Seeing his back turned again while he places the pots back where they belong, I lunge forward and jump quietly to my feet. The pie is very obviously still warm, apples and cinnamon coming through the top of the perfectly buttered crust. He latticed the crust this time, and not only am I impressed, I’m a little jealous of his work. The crust is flakey and laid gently one of top of the other, butter shining and juices pouring out of the small spaces between them. My mouth waters as I stare at it, reaching a hand out to snatch it, I pass the pan down to Jack quickly.

                Glancing up, I see Dean’s back is still turned, giving me time to reach for the knife he left beside the bag of flour. As my fingers wrap around the handle, I hear his gruff voice from right behind my head, “Drop the knife, Darlin’.” I jump and send the flour falling to the edge of the counter, coating my jeans and Jack’s hair. The white powder rolls down his back as he lunges to the side to save the pie.

                “Shit.” I whisper as I drop the knife and slowly turn sheepishly to face Dean, “If I tell you I was coerced into this operation would you believe me?”

                He laughs, shaking his head and grabbing the pie from Jacks hands, “You were the brains of this operation,” He places the pie back on the counter and chuckles again as he helps Jack to his feet, “Hit the showers, James Bond.”

                Jack shrugs, sending me an apologetic look before making his way out the door with Cas, who looks more than confused at the movie reference.

“You’re not an international spy, Jack.” He mutters quietly as they leave, “You know that right?”

 Sam remains in the same spot as their voices fade down the hall. He’s trying his hardest to hide the smirk on his face and doing a terrible job. I narrow my eyes and glance between the two brothers. My frown deepens as I raise a single finger and point it directly at Sam, “You gave us up! You did that stupid Winchester telepathy shit and sold me out!”

                A shit-eating grin crosses his face, and he bursts into laughter, “It wouldn’t have worked anyway! You know he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to pie.”

                I roll my eyes and flip him off, “Whatever, Samantha. Don’t ever ask me to change your code-name again.”

                He laughs louder as he heads out the door, returning my finger with one of his own, “Alright, Baby Two. I’ll see myself out.”

                I glare at his back as he leaves, my arms crossed and a scowl on my face when Dean slowly turns me around. His own grin is as big as Sam’s as he stares down at me, placing a fork in front of my face. I glance down at the golden crust on the end and feel my eyes light up.

                “If you wanted a bite of my pie, all you had to do was ask.” He mutters arrogantly, “It’s yours anytime you want it.”

                I hum in response before placing the fork in my mouth. The gooey goodness coating my tongue was delicious, all apple, cinnamon, and butter. The perfect combination of sweet and savory. I smile up at him and place a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you.”

                He places the spoon down on the counter and turns slowly back to face me. His hands reach up to cup my jaw and he places a soft kiss to my lips, “Sweet.’ He mumbles against me, “I didn’t do half bad, did I?”

                I giggle and run my hands up his chest, “At least top two of the best pies you’ve ever made.”

                “Top two?” He asks, leaning into to counter and pulling me along with him, “I think I can make that other favorite later tonight, if I have some help.”

                I smile up at him innocently and reach for the rest of the pie he left behind, “I’m a very good sous chef,” I reply with a wink, “Probably the best you’ve ever had.” I push off his chest and head for the door, pie in one hand two forks in the other.

                He laughs loudly and swats my butt as I walk away, “Share that with the kid. I’ve an extra baking anyway.” He yells down the hallway after me, stopping me in my tracks, “Hey! Why’s your code-name ‘Baby Two’?”

                “The O.G.s in the garage, duh.” I reply with a shrug, “I figured you’d know that.”

                The smile that stretches across his face is beautiful as he realizes the significance. I wink and raise the pie, waving at him before turning the corner toward Jack’s room, “Pie! Love you berry much!”

____________________________________________________________

Dean Taglist: @aylacavebear

Taglist of people I tag all the time😂💕: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know!

[whisperingwillowxox]

~Eddie coded~

[whisperingwillowxox]

Oh Christ! Steve, Eddie, Robin & Nancy. Stranger Things 4

[whisperingwillowxox]

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (TBA)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: after you and Eddie get...acquainted, it seems that he's everywhere. there's nowhere for you to hide when Eddie is on a mission to make your Christmas break miserable.

wc: 3.6k

cw: bickering, smoking

fic title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

if you spot the movie reference in here, i'm giving you a kiss on the cheek

Best Teacher Ever.

Your favorite spiral notebook sat in front of you, pink and white stripes lining the cover with an image of an apple and golden lettering. It was a gift from one of the fifth grade students you subbed for at another school. You traced the words with your fingers as you wondered if the child even knew what that meant.

It was five minutes to one and Eddie wasn’t here. You’d gotten here fifteen minutes ago, always keen on punctuality (and having the advantage of choosing where to sit.) Nerves crept up your neck, settling in the emerging headache you knew he was about to cause.

It would be so easy to start working on the book club without Eddie. To open the notebook and start your list. But you refrained, maintaining your self-respect. If he walked in and saw you already at work, you knew he’d start making a big deal about it. Then it would be an entire pissing contest with little to no meaning behind it. And you weren’t going to give in to his antics. Not today.

The wind chimes above Java Bean’s front door clanged against the frame as it swung open. You glanced over and found yourself inside an alternate dimension.

Eddie Munson stood there, sure, but you weren’t sure if it was him or some twisted doppelgänger sent here to confuse you. He was clad in a white shirt that read Vote For Pedro in red across the chest with black jeans and combat boots. On top was some combination of a leather jacket layered with a denim vest, littered in enamel pins. When he removed his hands from his pockets, you saw rings adorning almost every finger. 

Something churned in your stomach at the sight of him like this, hooked on the way he grabbed at his black Sony headphones, pulling them down to his neck and glancing down at his iPod. 

Maybe you could run away. Find your way to the bathroom and out whatever dingy window they had. Break it if necessary. Would they take a twenty to cover the charges?

Eddie stayed paused in the doorway, eyes scanning around the room before they found you. 

Something cranked your nerves up to one hundred as you realized there was nowhere to escape to now. Especially when he flashed you a bright smile that seemed a far cry from genuine. What a prick.

He approached you slowly, agonizingly. Placed his ringed fingers on the top of the chair across from you before asking, “Are you early?”

Your eyes kept flickering back and forth from him and the chair, seriously wondering if he was going to sit down or not. You hated the advantage he had of towering over you. 

“Uh, yeah,” you responded, trying not to cower away. 

“You would be.”

That snapped you out of your trance, furrowing your eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You look like a real person today.”

Looking down, you reassessed your outfit of a v-neck crimson sweater, dark blue jeans, and white Converse. On the back of your chair was a green parka. What did he think about your outfit? Why did you care?

“Did you think I wasn’t?” you asked, looking back up.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Just interesting to see you like this.”

You swallowed the urge to say the same, releasing a stifled breath as he finally sat down. You noticed his hair was frizzy for once, twisted into a half-assed bun. It was downright criminal that he still looked good.

“Who’s Pedro?” you asked, changing the subject.

The look he shot you made you wonder if he thought you’d shot a puppy. 

“You haven’t seen Napoleon Dynamite?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

That movie came out, what, three years ago? Approaching four? When you thought back that far, you remembered exactly what happened. Your ex boyfriend, Jason, had been reluctant to go see it with you. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do anything with you at all. But the movie theater? Yeah, forget it.

You’d dumped him a couple of months later after you caught him cheating on you. It was safe to say you never got around to renting the film.

“I was busy,” you said with a shrug.

“It’s been almost four years!”

You scowled. “So?”

“So,” he started, shrugging off his jacket. “you have no excuse.”

Oh.

Eddie…had tattoos. Six or seven up and down his arms, varying in size and intensity. You were no different, sure, with tattoos mixed and matched around your body. But he had tattoos. Perfect, cleancut Eddie Munson had tattoos. 

This felt like an ambush. There was no way he was this outside of work. All he’d ever worn were those nice button-downs. He never even rolled up the sleeves. He wore his outfits like he was some waiter at an upper class restaurant or a pretentious English professor that thought he was Hemmingway’s prodigy.

But, no. This was who he was underneath it all. 

You felt something stammer in your chest before it popped and fizzled in your stomach. 

“While this is riveting,” you said, doing everything you could to distract yourself from whatever the fuck was happening to you. “I really do think we should focus on choosing the first book.”

“I actually think we should get some coffee and food. Emphasis on the food.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, trying not to get annoyed. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you awkwardly waited in line together. You didn’t technically stand next to each other, his figure tucked behind yours. But your shoulders touched.

Your throat closed up at the contact, unsure as to why merely standing next to him felt so overwhelming. Maybe it was because he was an annoying asshole who never gave you a moment’s peace. Maybe you were just crabby without food or 

You ordered a peppermint latte—ignoring Eddie’s snort—and a blueberry muffin. Stepping aside, you watched Eddie get a black coffee—pretentious idiot—and a blueberry muffin. 

And what did you know? There was only one muffin left. It was rightfully given to you, with a promise of being heated up and left at your table. 

But as soon as you made it back to the table and the barista placed it in front of you, Eddie said, “Give me some of your muffin.”

You scoffed, pulling the plate closer to yourself. “No, go find your own!”

“Come on,” he continued, grabbing onto the other side. “Give me some of your muffin.”

You tugged on it again, simmering with frustration when it barely budged. “No, I’m fucking starved. I didn’t get to eat anything this morning.”

His grip tightened as he tried to take the plate.

“No, come on,” you grumbled, putting your other hand on the plate.

But Eddie did the same.

And in the process of fighting for the plate that was undoubtedly yours, Eddie gave a final yank of the ceramic before the muffin toppled over and onto the ground.

“Ugh,” you said with a scoff. “Gross.”

He gestured to you with the plate still in his hands. “Look what you did, idiot.”

“What I did?” you exclaimed, noticing a few pairs of eyes looking your way. You lowered your voice. “You’re the idiot.”

“You don’t know how to share,” he chided.

You scowled, leaning over to start cleaning up the mess Eddie made. “You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself!”

It took another ten minutes for you to stop arguing and start talking about the books. But then it stirred up another argument, him vetoing your choice of The Giver and you vetoing his choice of The Hobbit.

“That book is long,” you argued. “They’re teenagers.”

“Uh, I read it as a teenager,” he said with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He opened his mouth to protest but you beat him to it. “So no.”

In the end, you settled on a newer release, Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. Eddie protested that the novel was too short while you told him that that was the point. And as you bravely attempted to settle on the second book, it ended in chaos. You hated Catcher in the Rye. Eddie hated The Great Gatsby. There was nothing you could do.

You threw in the towel first in first, grabbing your things and half-heartedly wishing him a Merry Christmas before leaving. 

At last, you were left with two more blissful weeks without having to be anywhere near his insufferable presence.

But the thing about hating someone is that the more you hate them, the more you see them. Everywhere. 

A few days later, you’d been weaving in and out of the grocery aisles to garner inspiration for a healthy Christmas meal that would cancel out the eggnog and cookie coma you were likely to fall into. But as you stood in line to check out, you noticed Eddie strolling in with a shopping cart. 

You instinctively ducked, peering through the cashier behind yours to watch as he walked further and further away. Sure, the bored teenager bagging your groceries looked at you weird, but this had been life and death. And you’d chosen life.

Two days after that, you were making your way into the gas station near your apartment to get a few packs of cigarettes. You’d primarily smoked them in college before swearing up and down that you’d quit. And you did.

Until you started working full time at South Jefferson and realized just how stressful teaching teenagers all day every day was. So now it was back to the nicotine haze, barely satiating an oral fixation you’d had since birth.

There at the checkout counter stood Eddie Munson, currently sifting through coins in his hands with two packs of Marlboro Reds sitting in front of him. He was still in that leather jacket and denim vest combo, hair messy and chaotic. This time his bun sat on top of his head, stray hairs dangling down the back of his neck. There was a tattoo there too, something you couldn’t quite see from your vantage point. 

You thought about leaving but you couldn’t just go. Eddie was the exact reason why you’d gone through the rest of your pack. At home, you’d pace around and have arguments with him in your head until you won. You didn’t see that going away for the foreseeable future.

Before you could make up your mind, Eddie was thanking the cashier and turning away. As his eyes met yours, you felt that same stammer in your chest from Java Bean.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted, a faint smile on his lips.

“You’re a smoker,” you noted, glancing at the pack he was starting to open. 

He nodded. “You caught me red handed.” You rolled your eyes. “Get it? Red?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you replied, walking past him to the counter. 

He followed suit, standing too close for comfort again, boldly nudging your shoulder with his. For obvious reasons, you did not return the gesture. 

Before the cashier could greet you, Eddie stated, “Get the Marlboro Reds.” 

“No,” you said before turning to the cashier. “Two packs of those blue Newports, please.”

As you pulled out the five dollar bill from your wallet, Eddie shook his head at you. “You’re so wrong and you don’t even know. You don’t even know. I feel sorry for you.”

You ignored him as you paid and immediately walked outside. Eddie kept up with you, shoulder colliding with yours with every step. You needed to leave. You had to get away from him, especially two days out from Christmas. There was a promise of a holly jolly atmosphere waiting for you in your shithole apartment and that’s the way you liked it. No friends, no obnoxious family. A solitary affair with reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life and a new Maya Angelou poetry collection you’d snagged at Goodwill. 

But you couldn’t help yourself. “You know what your problem is?”

He was grinning. “What’s my problem?”

“You think you’re right about everything all the time.”

Eddie nodded. That fucker nodded. “That’s probably ‘cause I am.”

“You live in delusion,” you scoffed.

Lifting the cigarette box, he shook it in front of your face. “You should smoke one of these with me.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a snort before walking toward your car.

“You can’t spare five minutes to smoke with me?” he shouted after you.

Refusing to stop, you called over your shoulder, “Five minutes I can spare. But five minutes to share? With you? No, thanks. Happy Holidays and all that.”

Thankfully, he didn’t follow you.

There was this thing you did when you were thinking too hard about something. It started with furrowed brows, clenching together with intensity. Your lips didn’t purse, rather they scrunched up until they were barely visible. 

Usually, it was directed towards Eddie. But tonight it seemed you were focusing your mental energy on movies at Blockbuster. You looked torn, seemingly trying to decide between 28 Weeks Later and Music & Lyrics. Horror and a romantic comedy. Fascinating.

Eddie was browsing his usual slew of horror for the night when he’d looked over to spot the New Releases stand and instead found you like this. A DVD was already clutched to your chest, but you were looking back and forth from these two other films. You looked pretty, in a white sweater with faded pink sweatpants.

He wondered what you were thinking. How you were making your decision. What kind of snacks you’d pair with them, especially a few days after Christmas. The crashing blues that ensued after the holiday were apparently getting to you too, needing an escape. Just like him.

He could just ask you about your decision. It was going to backfire. He knew that. It’d been something he’d accepted weeks ago. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t like to have a little bit of fun pissing you off. It was just so easy to work you up until you stormed off. 

Eddie couldn’t understand why his presence set you off so viscerally. You seemed almost angry that he wanted to make any kind of conversation. Even if he lightly teased you, it was enough pressure to set off a landmine.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you looked at him. With that same wound up expression, eyebrows inching closer together as you prepared to explode. It might’ve been crass of him to say, but he really wanted to kiss you whenever you made that face.

And it might’ve been a bit vulgar of him to say, but he really wanted to grab your hips and push you up against a wall as you devoured one another.

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for that shit. Blockbuster was not the right place, either. He collected himself before throwing on a casual smile.

His steps were intentionally quiet, slow and steady as he came up behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You jumped, letting out a yelp before a hand flew to your chest. “Oh my god, you’re everywhere,” you breathed.

He couldn’t help his chuckle. “I’m sure you just love seeing the sight of my dashingly handsome—”

Groaning, you shook your head and said, “No.”

“Oh, I get it.” Eddie put a hand on his chest and flashed you an even wider smile. “You’re just charmed by my riveting conversational skills.”

You did something odd. Your eyes squinted softly as you swallowed and held his stare. What were you holding back from him?

“Not in the slightest.”

He gave up, pointing at the DVD in your hands. “So, what’re you watching tonight?” You went to hide the DVD behind your back but Eddie was a step ahead of you. He easily snatched it from your hands and held it up.

And he had no problem letting out a howl of laughter.

“Did you really grab Napoleon Dynamite because I told you to?”

You nearly gasped as if you were being slighted.

“Told me?” you grumbled. “You berated me.”

“It was just some light teasing,” he countered.

“Oh, sure. Of course you’d think that.”

Something clicked in his head and before he could even think about it, he smirked and said, “So you were thinking about me, huh?”

Never again would he see a sight so incredible.

There was that gasp he’d wanted, hitching in your throat before you puffed out your chest. Then your stare intensified, the one he was so fascinated by. It sparked a low-burning flame in his stomach.

He really liked the way that felt.

“I don’t spare any of my thoughts on you.”

Liar.

“So you decided on Napoleon Dynamite immediately but can’t make up your mind about 28 Weeks Later or Music & Lyrics?”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you settled on, “I only have enough to get one more.”

Another lie.

He decided to let you off easy. For now. “Well, they’re all good choices, if you ask me.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” you said bluntly.

Finally, the truth.

“You should be,” he said. “I’m the horror connoisseur of your dreams.” You opened your mouth but he beat you to it. “Because you do dream of me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You scoffed, grabbing both movies off the stand and walking away.

Okay, maybe a little too far. Noted.

“Woah, hey,” he called out, following behind you. “You can’t go. We haven’t chosen which one you’re getting.”

You looked at him like he was stupid. To be fair, he knew he was. But he really enjoyed that look on your face, too.

He enjoyed all of your faces. 

“We aren’t choosing anything,” you corrected. “I am choosing to get both and I am choosing to go home.”

“Just hold on,” he said, reaching a hand out to your elbow.

You whirled around and stopped. He nearly collided with you but stopped just in time, rocking back on his heels.

“What?” you asked.

He didn’t know what. Something kept him coming back, kept him leaning in closer just to try and understand you a little bit more. Despite having these distinct facial expressions, he still couldn’t figure out just what they meant. 

Or why you’d even think he wasn’t a good person when you barely understood him either.

An intriguing idea crossed his mind. “What if we, like, hung out?” he suggested.

Immediately, something thawed. Your eyebrows smoothed out and your lips dropped open into a small o. And he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes soften.

“You want to hang out with me?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I just assumed you had other friends. Like, um.” You looked away. “Chelsea.”

He tilted his head. “Chelsea?”

Why Chelsea? he wondered. He only really spoke to her at lunch and in passing. It was friendly, but they weren’t friends. Did you watch him at lunch? Did you think they were best friends?

Why did you care so much? And why did he care about what you thought?

“Yeah,” you whispered, going back and forth from looking at him to the DVDs in your hands.

“Hm,” he responded, looking around the store before coming back to you. “Well, I think we should go bowling.”

“Bowling,” you repeated.

He nodded, smiling as he quietly whispered, “Oh, yeah.”

Confusion spread across your face. “You want me to go bowling with you?”

“I think you said that earlier.” Eddie watched annoyance return to your face before adding, “Consider it a New Year’s resolution.”

The annoyance dissipated, replaced by your previous confusion. “How is bowling a New Year’s resolution?”

“It’s a blank slate, you know?” You shook your head. “Let’s call it a ceasefire between us. We can start over and, I don’t know, be friends.”

For a moment, you went quiet. Your eyes danced around the room, as if you were weighing your options. “How do you know I want to be friends with you at all?”

“Oh, come on,” he said with a sigh, still holding that smile. He couldn’t help it around you. “It could work, you and I. Friends. Buddies. Companions.”

You paused, your eyes assessing his. What the hell were you thinking? Why couldn’t he read your mind? There was this habit of yours to go quiet, to keep him on his toes until he went crazy.

And right now, he couldn’t keep standing here like this. 

“Well?” he asked, eyes still searching yours. “What’s it gonna be?”

A long moment passed before you sighed. “Fine. Yes. Let’s…go bowling.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I could pick you up next Wednesday around, what, seven?”

“I think we should drive separate,” you stated.

“Why? You don’t wanna be in a car with me?” All you did was nod. “You wound me, honestly. I’m not even a bad driver.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you asked, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “We’ll meet up at Lanesman next Wednesday.”

You gave him a quick nod. “Okay.”

“At seven p-m.”

“No, yeah, I got that.”

“See you then. Oh, you know what? You can tell me all your thoughts on Napoleon Dynamite while we bowl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, I’m leaving now,” you said, lazily waving at him before walking towards the checkout line.

Eddie had successfully survived another interaction with you. It was a whiplash for sure. But there was a shift. He felt it, but he wondered if you felt it, too. When you quickly turned to glance at him on your way out the door, Eddie couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

If you hadn’t noticed it yet, you surely would soon.

requested tagging: @anukulee, @twihard28, @doorlesscub00, @whisperingwillowxox

thank you to @littlexdeaths for always having the cutest dividers!!!

[whisperingwillowxox]

In The Lonely Shadows (2/2) Dean W.

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

the first part of this was requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

A/N #2: people were rabid about asking me for a part two. So please, enjoy!

WC: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, dean returns. sassy & protective crowley

[READ PART ONE HERE]

Read on Ao3!

--

Dean watched as your chest heaved up and down with every breath you took. The wind was howling outside, with rain pouring down. He was only partially soaked, having run for cover under teh pitiful awning above your hotel door. A suitcase was tucked into one hand and a backpack filled with supplies slung over the shoulder. He'd wanted to say goodbye before he left. But he couldn't. He was a coward, after all. He'd had a few visits from Castiel and Crowley, neither of them saying a word about you.

Though, he asked. He hasn’t spoken a word about Sam, either. The horror of watching Sam fall into the pits of Hell with Adam devastated him. So he ran away. He ran away to the person who would get him away from the hunter’s life, Lisa and Ben. He played pretend for as long as he possibly could.

Until he couldn’t keep up with the facade anymore. All he did was think about you, and the life the pair of you could have had. He’d find himself hovering over your name in his cellphone but never pressing the call button. Oftentimes, he’s stay up late at night, while Lisa laid peacefully next to him sleeping.  He knew he couldn’t lie to her forever about what - or who - truly had his heart.

Oftentimes, when he dreamed, it was about you, your face and your hands wrapped tightly in his as you started behind him on hunts. Thats what he loved about you the most, how much you trusted him to protect you.

So months after he departed, he located you in this dingy motel, where rodents and garbage littered the parking lot, and a few street lamps flickered dangerously in this damned storm. He’d gotten a replacement key to your room, claiming to the sketchy old man at the kiosk that he was your husband and you didn’t leave the key outside for him. So, on the threshold of the hotel room is where he stood, his fight or flight response kicking in the moment he laid eyes on you again.

He hadn’t seen you in months, far too long. But not long enough to forget the way your cheeks puffed out while you were embarrassed or the way your hair always fell into your face when you’d laugh at his stupid jokes. He couldn’t forget the way you would shuffle into his warmth at night, either.

God, did he miss the way you infected all of his clothing with your perfumes. 

He hesitantly stepped into the room, only to stop midway through in almost a panic. What if you moved on? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you shot him? He wondered at that moment if you held any protection on you, or if you’d thrown all of it away.

But he took the chance anyway and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He quietly toed out of his shoes and turned around before fully surveying the room. He couldn’t see any other person’s belongings in the room, so he assumed you were indeed alone.

Nervously, he tiptoed to the bed and studied your face for a long moment. He remembered everything about you-- your eyelashes, the dimple on your cheek. He wanted to reach out to you, nearly stopping himself as he felt his arm move without his command. He brushed his fingers against your cheek before he knew what he was doing and stepped back as your eyes had flung open in terror.

“Y/N,Y/N, it’s me, it’s Dean,” he said, reaching behind him for the pistol he always carried with him, though, he would never attempt to hurt you in any sort of way. “Hey, hey.”

“Dean?” you blinked through the darkness of the room. You must have been sleeping. Because you thought you heard Dean’s voice. And you thought you seen him standing mere inches away from where you slept on the bed.

Before he could get the chance to respond, another voice filled the room, a voice you’d come to recognize and acknowledge throughout these last few months.

“She doesn’t need you, Squirrel. She’s doing great without you.” Crowley’s voice echoed in the small room. 

Pulling yourself into a sitting position on the bed, you wiped at your eyes before switching your gaze between the pair in front of you. Crowley had been watching you over the weeks, which you had grown weirdly accustomed to, so it was no surprise that he had appeared out of the blue. What had startle you, was the other man standing mere inches away from you. If you just lifted your arm a few inches, you would be able to clasp your hands together.

“You left her high and dry after Moose had fallen into the depths of Hell, where, mind you, he’s been shacking it up with Lucifer. You should hear the agonies and woes from him.”

You could see the agitated twitch in Dean’s cheekbones, even in the poor excuse of light shining through the cracked window curtains.

“But now, back to the matter at hand, hmm?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the two-night lamps turned on, casting the room in sudden brightness that none of you was prepared for.

“How’s Lisa and Ben?” Crowley smirked as Dean looked entirely uncomfortable at the jabs. “Didn’t want to be a family man anymore, huh? Did she decide she didn’t want your baggage?”

“It’s none of your business, Crowley,” Dean quipped. He snuck a look towards you and almost melted at the sight of tears in your eyelids. He wanted to erase the heartbreak he had caused you. He wanted to erase the pain away from you.

He only wanted you to forgive him. He wanted you and only you. He wished he hadn’t run off after Sam had gone to Hell, but he was broken and insecure. He was scared that you would leave him as well, so he did the only thing he could think of doing at the time: He ran away.

He begged for Lisa to forgive him, and she did. She took him in immediately, even after he explained all that went down with Lucifer and Adam and Sam. She took care of him. And for a while, he could forget all the pain. He could mourn the loss of his brother in peace. But there had always been a hole in his heart that Lisa nor ben would veer be able to fill.

He hadn’t known it at the time until he had sat up the night before and wallowed in misery after having nothing but dreams and nightmares about you for months.

“No harsh words, Not Moose?” Crowley taunted as he took a step toward you, causing Dean to nearly topple backwards onto the bed you were still sitting on. “No quips? Nothing? What do you have to say for yourself? Because while you were playing house, I was left to pick up the piece of her broken heart! How noble of you.  Leave her behind to wallow in misery, and now what? You expect her to swoon because you're back? Pathetic."”

You never thought you would see the day when the king of hell would be red in the face at the Winchesters. But here he was, pointing a threatening finger in Dean’s direction while the other man looked like a kicked puppy. 

You wanted Crowley to stop the insults at Dean. But the fact that he was protecting you in this way meant so much to you. You never knew how much Crowley actually cared about you. 

"I bet she’s just thrilled to have you back. Nothing says 'I care' like a good old-fashioned abandonment, right?" Crowley scoffed.

“Crowley, enough,” you sighed as you finally pushed the duvet away from your body and stood up, causing Dean to look at you with hope. With your request, Crowley quieted down, though he didn’t cease the glare or scowl on his features. Ignoring him, you took a breath, taking Dean’s height in stride. “So, what? You show up at my doorstep and nearly scare me to death, for what?”

“I was wrong,” Dean swallowed, blinking slowly as tears piled against his eyelids. “I never should have left you the way i had. You were mourning Sam as well, and I was a coward for leaving you. I never once stopped thinking about you. I never once let you out of my mind. Lisa knew it, Ben knew it.’

“I’m not forgiving you, Dean.” you held your ground, even as you had to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “How could I forgive you? Do you know what the hell I’ve been through? You weren’t the only one to lose a brother, you know? Sam was my family as well.”

He opened his mouth, only for you to cut him off.

“It’s been fourteen months, Dean—fourteen long, terrible months. I celebrated Sam’s birthday without you. I celebrated your birthday without you. Crowley was the only one to check with me. Do you know he saved me from death on numerous occasions? That could have been you.”

He looked utterly defeated at the mention of the birthday celebrations. He could only imagine you singing to yourself with some cheap cake and a gas station lighter, wishing for the family you once held as you blew out the candles.

“Dean, I don’t know whether to hit you, kiss you, or put a bullet in you.” you scowled, pushing past him to walk over to the bathroom to wash your face. Leaving the door open, you heard Dean shuffle around Crowley to get to you again. 

“I can’t leave you, not again. Never again,” he watched your reflection as you grabbed for a hand towel and wiped the water from your face. 

Glaring at him momentarily, you sighed heavily before turning around and leaning against the counter. “Crowley will kill me for this. But I can’t help but think that I’m still in love with you. We can talk more about this in the morning. I had a long few weeks, and I’m absolutely exhausted.” 

Eagerly, Dean followed you out of the bathroom, barely noticing Crowley’s absence as he tucked you into the bed before he climbed in himself.

--

**totally up for a part three IF people want it. So please, please, please, if you enjoyed this reblog this & leave comments.

[whisperingwillowxox]

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

-

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

-

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[whisperingwillowxox]

Thea’s reaction to seeing Halsin whip his pants off will never not be hilarious.

Same girl, same 😮‍💨

[whisperingwillowxox]

so sweet <3

[whisperingwillowxox]

comfy...

[whisperingwillowxox]

Soothe and pamper.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: it had been a long week of hunting, and Dean said he was fine… until you came in, of course.

Content: fluff, Dean being needy and overdramatic (and clingy), no use of y/n, Sam being the third wheel (kind of)

Word count: 653

Dean Winchester was a master at the "I'm fine" act. After years of being on the hunt, he could brush off a rough week like it was second nature. So, when Sam asked if he was okay after their latest exhausting hunt, he just scoffed, as usual.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Dean said, waving a dismissive hand like he was brushing off a pesky fly, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days chasing after demons across two states.

"Quit worrying, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. This was like Dean's default setting—deny, deflect, and pretend like everything was cool, even if he looked like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

But then, you walked into the room.

As soon as Dean caught sight of you, his entire demeanor shifted. The tough-as-nails hunter, who moments ago had been shrugging off his brother's concern, let out an over-the-top groan so loud it echoed through the bunker.

You barely had a chance to say a word before Dean threw himself into your arms like a wounded soldier returning from battle.

"This week—oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He buried his face into your shoulder with a pitiful groan, his voice muffled against your shirt. "It's been so bad, baby. So bad."

You could feel the weight of his body sag against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

It would've been pathetic if it wasn't so funny.

"I don't know how I made it out alive," Dean continued, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. "The food was nasty, the motel beds were terrible, and don't even get me started on the demons!"

You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled on, completely lost in the comfort of being with you.

"Do you see this?" He gestured toward his body. "I'm a broken man."

Sam, watching this unfold, rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And Dean ignored him completely.

"You're the only one who understands, sweetheart." He whined, clinging onto you like his life depended on it. "Sam's no help, he doesn't get it."

"Dean," you said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You were fine like five seconds ago."

"What are you talking about?" He squeezed you tighter, feigning innocence. "I was just holding it all in. I didn't want to scare Sammy. But now... now I can finally let it all out."

"Uh-huh," you said dryly. "And how much of this is just you wanting to get pampered?"

Dean gasped in mock offense, pulling back to look at you again. "Me? Using my genuine suffering to get pampered? I would never—"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."

Sam snorted in the background, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "You two are ridiculous," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, what can I do to make it better, Dean?"

He was still leaning heavily into your embrace. "You. Me. Bed. Cuddles... for my emotional well-being, of course."

You smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "And all your troubles will disappear?"

"Exactly," Dean grumbled, sounding so serious you had to hold back a laugh. "Exactly." He sighed, content now, taking advantage of the situation for all it was worth.

"And if you throw in a back rub, I'll be a whole new man by morning." He added, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Alright, drama queen. But only because I know how hard it is to be you." you laughed softly.

"You're the only one who understands." Dean murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

[whisperingwillowxox]

pamper....

[whisperingwillowxox]

Figure You Out

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam run into another hunter while working a case.

TW: Mentions of blood, injuries, death and murder. Dean's nicknames.

Concord, New Hampshire

Dean and Sam made their way through the woods towards a cabin owned by one of many werewolves in the area. The steadily rising number of mangled corpses turning up around town drew their attention quickly. The bodies were piling up and the situation needed to be dealt with.

Dean and Sam approached the house, peering at the large cabin from the treeline. The door was wide open and the front window was shattered, broken glass was scattered across the grass. Dean and Sam pulled out their guns as they slowly approached the cabin.

"Is that blood?" Sam asked quietly, shining his flashlight at the stairs.

"I think someone might've beat us to the punch here, Sammy," Dean said, approaching the treeline on the opposite side of the cabin.

Sam turned to see his brother standing over a man's body that was laying face down near the trees. The man's wide eyes stared off into nothingness, the ground around him slowly becoming saturated with his blood. The man had multiple bullet wounds in his back, no doubt silver bullets were used.

Dean and Sam looked up as they heard some rustling from inside the house. Dean quickly made his way over to his brother as they approached the house.

The pair climbed the stairs quietly, shining their lights inside the cabin. A woman held up her hand, blocking the light from her eyes.

"Shut those goddamn lights off or shine them somewhere useful," She snapped.

The woman huffed when neither of the boys moved, "I'm a friendly, assholes," She said.

Sam lowered his gun and flashlight, pointing them at the floor, "Dean, she's good," Sam said quietly.

Dean reluctantly brought down his gun and light. The woman lowered her hand from her blood splattered face, leaning back against the edge of the countertop with a shake of her head.

A small lantern was sitting on the counter beside her, casting a dim yellow glow across her injured side. A handgun, an open bottle of alcohol and the contents of a first aid kit were strewn across the countertop.

Dean whistled, "They got you good, huh?" He stated, shining his light at the claw marks slashed into her side.

"No shit," She huffed, pushing the needle through her torn flesh.

"Need a hand?" Sam asked.

"I'm good, thanks," The woman muttered, focused on closing her wound.

"Here, let me at least give you some better lighting," Sam said, changing positions to shine the light from a different direction.

"Thanks," She said.

"No problem," Sam nodded.

"I'm gonna check the place out," Dean said.

"It's clean," She replied, tying off a stitch.

"Not that I don't trust you, sweetheart, but I don't," Dean smirked.

"Asshole," She muttered.

Dean moved further the cabin, peering into the rooms as he passed them. He couldn't deny that he was slightly impressed by the sheer amount of werewolves she had managed to take down alone.

Dean made his way back out to the kitchen area as the woman grabbed the bottle from the countertop. She seethed as she poured some of the alcohol over her stitched up wounds before patting the area dry with clean gauze.

"You take all these wolves out by yourself?" Dean asked.

"Why?" The woman asked.

"Just wondering," Dean shrugged.

"Sure you are," She scoffed.

"Seems like a big job, is all," Dean said.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," The woman stated, pressing a large surgical pad over her stitches before wrapping gauze around her waist to hold it in place.

She cut through the gauze, tucking it in place before lowering her torn shirt and packing up her first aid kit.

"I'm Sam and that's my brother, Dean, by the way," Sam said.

She paused, "Winchester?" She questioned.

"You heard of us?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother.

"Nope," She stated, closing the lid of her first aid kit. The woman grabbed her gun and first aid kit from the countertop, "Have a good night, boys," She said.

"You're not gonna tell us your name?" Dean questioned.

She smiled, "I'm sure this isn't the last time we'll be seeing eachother, Dean," She replied.

...

Louisville, Kentucky

Dean and Sam continued to run into the woman on and off through the years. They came to learn that her name was Y/N and that she always worked alone. She moved from job to job quickly and it seemed like every time they would go to start a hunt, she would have already finished it.

Y/N absolutely infuriated Dean. He and Sam would spend hours on their research and travelling to the location just to get there and have everything done already.

They hadn't seen her in a while and the brothers were beginning to wonder if something had happened to her. It wouldn't be unexpected in their line of work.

Dean and Sam made their way into a local bar to spend some time going over the details of a possible witch related case. They had barely sat down at the bar for a minute before the bartender set two beers on the bartop.

"Sorry, we didn't order these," Sam said.

"They're from the woman at the end of the bar," The bartender said, pointing off to the right.

Dean turned to look, "Son of a bitch," He muttered, a scowl quickly replacing his previous smile.

Y/N raised her beer with a smile, Sam laughed and raised the beer in thanks. Dean swiped his beer off the bartop and hopped off his stool before making his way over to her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Same thing as you, only better," She smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

"I'm just gonna save myself some time and ask if there's even still a hunt in this town?" He questioned.

Y/N sucked in a breath through her teeth, "No, just finished a few hours ago, actually. But I really appreciate you guys coming out," She said.

"Yeah, whatever. Thanks for the beer," Dean said grumpily before returning to his spot next to Sam.

"Well, that was-," "Shut up," Dean snapped, taking a sip from his beer. Sam shook his head with a smile, always managing to get a kick out of it when his brother was bested by Y/N.

...

Seattle, Washington

Dean and Sam made their way into an abandoned warehouse with packs of gear slung on their backs. This area had recently become a hotspot for demon activity in the last few days. The missing persons reports had also began to rise and there definitely had to be something big going on.

Sam and Dean scanned the dark warehouse as they made their way inside. Sam hesitated, "Dean, is that-?" He started, shining his flashlight at something across the room.

Dean looked up, following the beam of his brother's flashlight, "Oh my god," He muttered, racing across the warehouse and kneeling down in front of her.

Y/N's body was slumped against the wall, she had been beaten and there was a rusted pipe stabbed into her stomach.

Her clothes were drenched in blood, Dean held in his hand in front of her face, a finite amount of tension leaving his shoulders as a soft puff of air hit his skin.

"She's breathing," He stated.

Dean pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks in his hands, "Hey, sweetheart, can you hear me? Open your eyes, Y/N," Dean said.

Her eyes fluttered open, "Dean," She mumbled. Blood splattered onto her lips as she coughed, dripping down her chin.

"We're gonna get you some help, okay?" He assured.

"I don't wanna die," Y/N whimpered.

"We're not gonna let that happen, alright?" Dean said, she nodded slightly.

"Good, now I need you to be as stubborn about not dying as you are about everything. Shouldn't be a hard thing for you to do, right?" Dean said with a small, reassuring smile.

"You're an ass," Y/N mumbled.

"You got me there, but I need you to listen to me for a second, okay? I gotta pick you up and I can tell you right now that it's not gonna feel good," He said.

"I know," She nodded.

Dean lifted her arm up to wrap around his neck before sliding his arms underneath her body.

"On the count of three. One... Two... Three," He counted before lifting her up into his arms. Y/N cried out in pain at the shift, fingernails digging into the skin on the back of Dean's neck.

"We gotta get her to a hospital. You drive," Dean said, Sam nodded.

They rushed her out of the warehouse, carefully setting her in the backseat of the Impala with her body propped up against Dean's chest.

Sam hopped into the driver's seat, taking the keys from his brother before starting the car and speeding off in the direction of the hospital. Y/N coughed up more blood, gradually becoming less responsive as Sam drove.

"Don't let me die," She pleaded softly. It was the first time Dean had heard her be this vulnerable and it terrified him.

"I won't... Trust me, sweetheart, you're gonna be back to annoying the crap out of everyone you've ever met in no time," Dean assured.

Y/N was only able to stay awake for a few more minutes before finally losing consciousness.

Y/N was rushed into surgery as soon as they arrived at the hospital. Dean told them that she was his wife and had been involved in a mugging. He could tell that they didn't believe him, but it didn't matter. As long as she was getting the care she needed.

"We're staying... It's non-negotiable, alright?" Dean said firmly, looking over at his brother.

"Glad we're on the same page," Sam nodded.

...

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, squinting in the bright light as her head pounded. She turned her head to see Dean lounging in the chair beside her bed as he lazily flipped through a magazine.

She gulped before speaking, "How long was I out?" Y/N questioned.

He looked up at her, "Three days," He stated, looking back down at the glossy pages.

"Shouldn't you be three states over by now?" Y/N asked.

"Well, I rescued a damsel in distress who got herself skewered by a metal pipe. I thought sticking around to make sure she didn't die would be the gentlemanly thing to do," Dean smiled.

"Sounds like a badass," Y/N muttered.

"She is," Dean agreed, eyes flickering up from his magazine to meet her's.

Y/N looked away, eyes scanning the small hospital room and quickly noticing the absence of the younger Winchester, "Is Sam around?" She asked.

"He went to get coffee a few minutes ago," Dean said. Y/N nodded, shifting with a grimace as pain radiated over her entire body, obviously numbed by medication to some degree.

"How are you feeling?" Dean questioned.

"Like I got my ass handed to me," Y/N sighed.

He huffed a laugh, "You kinda did," Dean nodded.

"Yeah," She huffed, leaning back against the pillows, "Did they say how long they want to keep me here for?" Y/N asked.

"At least another week," Dean said.

"Screw that," She scoffed

"We'll help you bust out in a few days," Dean said, flipping the page of his magazine.

Y/N stared at him for a second, "Why are you still here, Dean?" She asked.

"I already told you-" "Cut the bullshit," She snapped.

"I was worried about you," Dean said.

"You have to give a shit about someone to be worried, Dean," She said. The older Winchester remained silent, staring at her expectantly.

"Well, I'll be damned... You like me!" She smirked.

"I never said that," Dean stated.

"You might as well have," She teased.

"Just go back to sleep," He said, shaking his head as he returned to reading his magazine.

"I'm not gonna let this go, Dean," Y/N stated.

"Yeah, I figured," He sighed, flipping the page.

[whisperingwillowxox]

ANUTHUH ONE since you guys like the tiktok inspired ones (female user sorry if anyone wanted a male one i could do it its just it was a girl in the video and its kinda hard to make this one gn)

you and dean just got married an hour ago

y/n: no no we need to practice it

dean, wholeheartedly agreeing: of course- Right…uh… *in character* Excuse me, have you seen… my wife?

y/n: *also in character* umm, i was looking for my husband, has he been around here?

dean: yeah i gotta talk it over with the wife.

y/n: Oh yeah, my husband and i were just there last week!

dean: i have a pick up order, my wife sent it in…should be under… Y/n Winchester.

y/n: 😮

dean: 😮

y/n: …y/n winchester…

dean: you’re y/n winchester…

y/n: Mrs. Winchester…

dean: 😮

y/n: 😮

dean: holy fuck thats you

[whisperingwillowxox]

Let him be vulnerable!!!!!