blueschevy

[blueschevy]

𓇼𓂃 𓈒 older!dean winchester w/ f!reader drabbles.

“oh m’god—” your stuttered moans are cut off each time by another one of dean’s deep thrusts, but they’re not rough or punishing, no, they’re slow and drawn out, each one of them. you swear you can feel the tip of his cock just brushing gently against your cervix each time he sinks back in. his back is pressed against the sheets of his bed while his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you close to his chest.

your hands helplessly grasp at the sheets, and your face is tucked close to dean’s neck, muffling your moans in the process. “dean— please– ah– i love you— love you s’much—” is all you can manage to spew out in between moans that are bubbling out of your throat. you feel his arms tighten around you while he mumbles smooth words of praise and affection into your ear. “i love you too, baby— i love you, you’re doin’ so good f’me, sweet girl—” yes, your moans are muffled any soft whimpers or cries are quieted, but you pepper kiss after kiss to the skin between his collarbone and throat when you’re not shamelessly moaning dean’s name.

each thrust stays the same speed, but they’re so deep you can practically feel them in your lungs. “jus’ a lil’ bit more, you can do it, baby—” one of his hands slips from your back to your ass, groping at the flesh a little roughly in his hands, and his other hand rubs at your back softly. you nod, hands still gripping at the sheets while he keeps fucking himself back up into you from underneath.

when his hips finally stutter, his hands slightly dig into your skin and warmth spreads throughout you. your stomach feels warm and your walls contract around his cock, keeping him there. not like he was planning on moving anyways. you whimper and moan, each word sounds like a careless and helpless babble when you try and say his name, but they just don’t come out right. “there y’go baby.. atta girl..” he breathes, his grip softening and those hands of his rub gentle patterns into your skin, like a wordless apology for grabbing onto you. that hand he had on your ass goes up to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, fixing some of the knots that had unintentionally formed.

now, it’s safe to say that you’re not used to being able to rest after any of this, you and dean rarely ever find the time to spend more than five minutes taking care of each other after having sex— but for once, today you two have nothing going on, which is how you’re on top of his like this, his entire length buried in you and him taking his time, rather than rushing through it. and you are not used to it whatsoever. even your previous partners didn’t do much for aftercare, not even gentle touches while you come down from your high. so this is all new, new and unfamiliar, but very welcome.

you just don’t know how to respond..

but you start to sniffle, hands shifting from the sheets to wrap around dean’s neck, tugging you almost uncomfortably closer to him. you don’t mean to sniffle, you don’t want to— but he’s so gentle, his touch is loving and careful, it makes you feel loved. he doesn’t hear you right away, he keeps murmuring praises into your ear that only further the emotions that have you so overwhelmed. “you did s’good baby, you’re my good girl.. love you so much..” his hand strokes over your hair again and again, nails softly dragging against your scalp. until he hears you sniffling, and your awful attempts at hiding it.

“baby..?” he questions, not accusingly, just curious. slowly, he sits up, bringing you with him, you head still tucked into him. “hey.. sweet girl, you okay..?” you nod, or try to as you pull your face away from his neck, your eyes welling up with tears and it looks like you’re desperately trying to hold them back, like you’re trying to keep from embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend.

“oh darlin’..” he murmurs, his hand no longer on the back of your head and his other hand on the small of your back. “m’sorry, dean..” you mumble, trying to wipe your eyes with a hand you pulled away from him, but he stops you, his free hand grabbing yours softly and kissing it. “s’okay, baby. no need to say sorry.” all you can do is nod, he has that authoritative tinge to his voice when he says it that leaves no room for argument or debate. you can’t help yourself from trying to apologise again.

“i– m’just not used to it— everything feels like it needs to move faster an–” he cuts you off, “it’s called enjoyin’ the afterglow, baby. we have time, we don’t need to be anywhere or do anythin’. s’just you and me..” there's that same tone in his voice, and for once, you listen, wrapping your arms back around his neck and you kind of hug him, but you mostly just bury your face into the crook of his neck and cry a little bit, taking everything in. from his hand back in your hair and his other hand rubbing circles into your back, trying to get you to relax a little bit.

after a couple of minutes, you’ve only been sniffling after your tears stopped, and you finally get what dean means by ‘enjoy the afterglow’, because it is nice, not having anywhere to be to a case to rush to, and you brain just kind of feels like mush in your head, everything is blurred out into this haze that you can’t tell is from the fact he’s still inside of you or if you’re finally unwinding a little bit.

dean just sits there, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in this life. he feels the chance before he even acknowledges it, the way you relax into his touch, and you grow quieter and quieter, just holding onto him loosely with your arms around his neck while the rest of you is practically limp. “s’okay baby.. just relax, i love you.” you mumble back something about loving him more, your arms tugging yourself closer to him, hiding in his neck.

you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. you cried when your boyfriend didn’t immediately get up to shower or pull his jeans back on. he just let you sit there, on his lap, letting the post–sex haze crawl over both of you in the dim lighting of his room with the feeling of his arms holding you there.

“i love you most,” he murmurs, pulling you away from his chest a little bit to press a kiss to your forehead with a borderline childish smile with that distinct charm that made you fall in love with him to begin with.

© cryingdew

taglist – @bruisedfig @edensveryown

[blueschevy]

hello could u write more Jensen ackles x wife!reader please? I really loved ur last one. Jensen is filming the boys and he’s asked in an interview how his wife feels about the role and other questions.

⋆˚✿˖° the wife's take,

summary. jensen's interview takes a sweet turn when the interviewer asks about you. he pretty much melts talking about you.

pairing. jensen ackles x wife!reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 493

notes / warnings. ugh, to be daneel ackles and to be on the receiving end of the love of this man!!!

ᯓ★ other jensen drabbles here

Jensen sits back in the chair, that signature smirk lighting up his face under the studio lights. The interviewer leans in, a playful glint in her eye.

“So, Jensen, your role in The Boys has been pretty intense. How does your wife feel about all this chaos?”

You’re watching from the sidelines, a cozy smile curling on your lips as you see Jensen’s eyes soften just a little. He adjusts his jacket, clearly thinking, but it doesn’t take long before he leans into that earnest tone you know so well.

“She’s... honestly my biggest fan and my softest place,” he says, voice low but filled with pride. “She’s been with me through all the wild stuff—the late nights, the crazy scripts, the weird costumes. And she always makes me remember who I am outside of it all.”

You feel a flutter, because yep, that’s your man in a nutshell—big heart, deep love, and somehow effortlessly cool.

The interviewer grins, “That’s so sweet. Does she watch the show? What does she think about your character?”

Jensen laughs, that light, easy sound that’s pure Jensen. “She’s definitely my toughest critic. No, seriously, she watches every episode, and she’ll text me in the middle of the night with notes. ‘Really? You said that line like a total dork,’ or, ‘You could’ve killed that scene if you just looked a bit more intimidating.’”

You can almost hear his teasing tone, the way he imitates you behind your back, making the whole room chuckle.

“She keeps me on my toes,” he adds with a wink. “But more than that, she reminds me why I do what I do. For her, for us.”

Your heart swells because yeah, it’s not just about the glitz or the spotlight. It’s about the quiet moments—the texts, the late-night FaceTimes between sets, the way he pauses interviews to talk about you with that gleam in his eye.

Then the interviewer leans in, curious, “What’s the best part about having her in your life while you’re filming something so dark and intense?”

Jensen’s gaze drifts off, like he’s picturing you right there. “The way she laughs at me when I try to act all serious on set. How she’s the light that pulls me back from all that darkness. She’s my sanity. And honestly? Just knowing that when I’m done for the day, I’m coming home to her—that’s what keeps me grounded.”

You watch him with a smile, your heart nearly bursting because he’s talking about you like you’re his whole world. And maybe you are.

The interviewer chuckles softly, “Sounds like you’re one lucky guy.”

Jensen shrugs modestly but you can see it—he knows it too.

“Yeah. I am. Every single day.”

After the interview, he turns and catches your eye, grinning like he just shared the best secret.

“You heard that, right?” he says quietly, fingers brushing your hand. “You’re my everything.”

You squeeze his hand, your smile radiant and sure. “Always.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[blueschevy]

Jensen Ackles is leading man material, and Countdown gives him generous space and air to get on with it and do his thing. Whether he’s playing a role within a role as an undercover operative, hanging by his fingernails from a moving vehicle, or lapsing into comedy or pathos as the moment calls for it, he’s never less than consistently engaging. - tvpulsemag

[blueschevy]

𝘉𝘌𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘖 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚

(𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘜) 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝟥

𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝟣 | 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝟤

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘏𝘦𝘺! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝟣𝟢𝟢 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭, 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦

𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

❤️ 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

❤️ 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦… 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥… 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥…

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪 𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝟣 𝘥𝘢𝘺… 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯

𝘴𝘱𝘯_𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰

𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘵!!

❤️ 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭

𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯?

𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴???????

𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘱𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯

𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘱𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦

𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘴𝘱𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰

𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳????

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥

𝘴𝘱𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦! 𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪 𝘰𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥

𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘖 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘯𝟣 𝘯𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 ❤️

❤️ 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳

𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘱𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘯_𝟣𝟤𝟥 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺

𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮!!

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @deans-baby-momma @magic-sprinkled-daydreams

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 & 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 :) ♥

[blueschevy]

𝐵𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐷𝑆 𝑇𝑂 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆

(𝐽𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛 𝐴��𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝐴𝑈)

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟷

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙-𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖, 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟! 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦, 𝐼 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚. 𝑆𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡.

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒

𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑒… ✈️ 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠

𝑉𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙?

𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦/𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦/𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

𝑗𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑒

❤️ 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟 𝑗𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜ℎ 𝑚𝑎𝑛, 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒…

𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?

𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒

❤️ 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟

𝑗𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠

𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠

𝑗𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑘𝑖𝑐𝑘, 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑. 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒

𝑉𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝐽𝑒𝑛𝑠 ❤️ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑢

❤️ 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟

𝑠𝑝𝑛_𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜ℎ 𝑚𝑦…

𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑒?? 𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜, 𝑠ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑑

𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙!

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑖 😀

𝑠𝑝𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝑅𝑆𝑇 𝑃𝐻𝑂𝑇𝑂 𝑅𝐽𝐾𝐻𝑈𝐷𝐼𝑇𝐺𝐻𝐹𝐺𝐽𝐵𝐹𝐿𝐺

𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠_𝑠𝑝𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑒

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒

𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝐴𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠

𝑉𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝟹 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒…

𝑗𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑖 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒

𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙

𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑜ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟…

𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐽𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛…𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔…?

𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙_𝟷𝟸𝟹 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟸 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 - 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒

[blueschevy]

next. | d.w.

request: @rustic-guitar-notes: "can u write a little cutesy piece basically about reader and dean living a very normal life and leaving hunting?? like they have a whole house together and sam visits sometimes and it’s all just soft and NORMAL."

synopsis: this is written as a sequel to done, however, it can also be read as a standalone fic.

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: fluff - she/her pronouns used - no use of 'y/n' - a smidge of angst if you squint - a surprise Sam appearance - Eileen mention! - pet names used (sweetheart)

a/n: this took me FOREVER i'm so sorry!! but I hope this makes up for it <3333 (also eileen is blurry wife confirmed by me)

Why did cooking have to be so difficult?

The instructions stared up at you from your phone screen, mocking your efforts. You had no trouble following directions and were confident you had done everything perfectly. Yet, your kitchen was beginning to fill with smoke, and the burger patties on the stove—the patties you had spent hours putting together—were starting to fall apart and burn.

There was stuff everywhere. Herbs were all over the counter, white flour-handprints covered your shirt, and you were certain some of it was in your hair. Flecks of ground beef were on your tiled walls and floor (which, thankfully, your dog Miracle cleaned up right away). Salad ingredients littered your bench space, leaving you little to no room to move.

You were beginning to feel claustrophobic. This kitchen was a lot smaller than the one you were used to.

You were accustomed to the bunker, with its vast countertop space, where anything you needed was within arm's reach and easily spotted. Currently, what little kitchenware you had was hidden behind cabinet doors, and you were still getting used to the setup.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt your heart rate begin to accelerate. You felt stupid. All you wanted to do was make a nice meal, and cooking was simply reading and following instructions—why couldn't you just do that?

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, a shrill beeping rang through your house.

The smoke alarm.

Panicked, you fumbled to turn off the stove and wave away the smoke, desperately trying to silence the alarm before one of your nosy neighbours came knocking at the door. When the beeping finally stopped, you returned to the stove, sighing at the blackened mess that was left.

It didn't look too bad. You were sure that you could fix it simply by scraping off the burnt bits; no one would even know just how badly you messed everything up.

You decided to turn your attention to something that only an idiot could mess up—chopping. You were once quite skilled with a blade—a year ago you would have been using it for something entirely different, like chopping off the heads of vampires or other various creatures that went bump in the night. Today, however, you swapped a machete for a chef's knife. Most of your weapons were carefully packed away, with only a few small trinkets and books to remind you of your old life as a hunter.

You sliced lettuce, tomato, and cucumber, being sure to tuck your fingers away and allow the knife to rock against your knuckles, just like the professionals did on television.

You were so focused on perfecting your chopping technique that you barely noticed the sound of keys turning in the lock or the front door swinging open. The sound of footsteps behind you went unnoticed until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Out of pure instinct, you spun around, knife gripped tightly in your hand as a surge of adrenaline washed over you. You raised the blade towards the potential assailant, holding it a breath's distance away from their neck, your knuckles turning white. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears and your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden movement. Your brain was telling you to strike, to move on the enemy before it was too late, but the gentle hand that curled around your wrist caused your defensive stance to falter.

“You gonna stab me, sweetheart?”

"Dean?" you breathed, immediately pulling the knife away from his throat. Your heart was still thundering away, but the buzz of energy in your system had subsided to a gentle hum. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, I thought I would come home early and surprise you," he said, taking the knife from your hand and placing it on the countertop. "I didn't think you were gonna Long-Kiss-Goodnight-me."

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, anxiety and embarrassment quickly replacing the adrenaline. “Old habits…”

Dean took you by the shoulder and pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He placed a firm kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there. You melted into him and snaked your arms around his middle, feeling every worry melt away. He smelled like work: fuel, oil, and metal, and despite washing his hands copious times, there were still motor oil stains on his skin. Normally, the smell would have had you scrunching your nose up and ordering Dean into the shower, but for the first time, you couldn’t find yourself caring.

“How was work?” you asked, pulling back to look up at him. His hair was scruffy, the ends standing up in a hundred different directions. It was longer than Dean usually allowed it to get, but he told you he wanted to “experiment with the length” (you weren’t going to admit that the thought made you ever so slightly giddy).

"Pretty good," he replied, furrowing his brows for a moment as he wiped a patch of flour off your forehead with his thumb. "Some guy brought in an old Mustang. Got to—"

His eyes tore off you, looking towards the mess you left on the stove.

"What the hell—"

"Don't ask," you grumbled.

"What did you—what even—"

"I thought I said don't ask."

Dean picked the frypan up off the stove, inspecting the charred contents, and you felt like shrinking inside yourself. He looked over to the chopped ingredients on the counter before turning back to you.

"Dinner…?"

"I tried," you gave up. "I really did. I thought I would do something nice and surprise you, but apparently, I'm the world's worst cook."

Dean wasn't going to admit it, but you were right. You could make a mean bowl of cereal and a damn good cup of coffee, but when it came to toasting, baking, or frying, it usually ended with someone needing to get the fire extinguisher.

Your face fell into your hands—the tears were back, and you tried your best to hide them, but your shaky breaths immediately alerted Dean.

"Hey," he said with a light chuckle. He pulled you back towards him, one hand on your back, the other holding the back of your head. "It's all good."

"No it's not," you said, voice muffled by Dean's embrace. "I used to be good at something. Now I'm not good at anything."

"What d'you mean?"

"I used to be good at—at hunting. I used to wake up every day knowing exactly what to do and when. Now I can't even make a meal without messing up. At least you're good at something."

Dean nodded, fully understanding. It had been roughly six months since your last hunt, since you'd both hung up your hats and said goodbye to the life forever.

Surprisingly enough, Dean settled into your new life faster than you both had thought. He had gotten the mechanic job right off the bat and quickly fell into a routine. It was good for him. He had something to look forward to every day. He had new skills that he was able to put to use.

You, on the other hand, were finding things a little more difficult. You had no experience doing anything, making finding a job damn near impossible. You found yourself itching to check for the latest missing persons case or some kind of sign of the next apocalypse. You busied yourself by walking the dog, by cleaning the little house you rented in Kansas, by reading dozens of books.

Dean never pushed you. Instead, he let you adjust at your own pace.

Sure, there were still nights where one of you would wake up from a nightmare a sobbing, shaky mess, where visions of blood, death, and monsters flashed behind your eyelids. But you were always there for each other with comforting touches and words—you were each other's beacons of light when things began to grow dark again.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, hands moving to your shoulders. “You are gonna head out, grab a pizza from down the street. I am gonna stay here and tidy up.”

“But—”

“Then,” he continued, “We’re gonna settle in for the night. Couch. Beer. Movie.”

“Fine,” you sighed, a smile creeping back onto your lips.

Your car smelled like pizza as you pulled into the little cul-de-sac where your house was. Three boxes sat on your passenger seat, and you had to refrain from reaching over and snagging a piece before getting home. Dean would have your head if you started without him.

You passed several houses on your block that looked somewhat similar to your own before your little house came into view. It was smaller than the others, but it made up for it with a massive front and back yard. It had a brown roof, beige-yellow walls, and a wooden door. For most people, it wasn’t much to look at—many of the people who inspected it had turned their noses up and laughed at it.

It wasn’t much, but it was home.

Upon pulling into the driveway, you noticed another car parked on the side of the road up ahead. The sight of it brought a wide smile to your face.

Sam.

It had been days since you last saw him. After spending all day every day in the Winchesters’ pockets, you had felt strange not seeing Sam constantly. After everything, Sam had become one of your closest and dearest friends—he was like an older brother to you. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him. You could talk to each other freely without judgment—he just got you.

You quickly parked your car, grabbed the pizza boxes, and headed inside.

You could hear Sam and Dean before seeing them. After years of hunting, stakeouts, and sneaking around, you were surprised the brothers weren't a little more subtle. Six months ago, you would have assumed they were arguing about something, but as you approached the front door, you actually heard them laugh.

You pushed the door open and headed inside, immediately greeted by Miracle. He sniffed around your feet and tried his best to investigate the pizza boxes in your hand, his tail wagging profusely. Dean took the pizza boxes from your hands, shot you a wink, and took them into the kitchen. Miracle quickly turned his attention away from you and followed the smell of the pizza. Traitor.

"Hey, stranger," Sam said, standing at the end of the entryway, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You threw your keys on the small bench near the front door and practically ran over to Sam, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him.

"This is a nice surprise! Long time no see," you said, pulling back to take a look at him. He looked well-rested—happy—and there was a glint in his eye that you couldn't quite put your finger on. "How's Eileen?"

"Good," he lowered his head, the look in his eye now spreading to the rest of his face. A smile crept across his lips, the kind that had your brows furrowing in interest. "Yeah, she's real good."

You made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Pizza's gettin' cold!" Dean called, which caused you and Sam to roll your eyes in unison.

After indulging in five slices of pizza and three beers, you were completely stuffed. The boys had spent at least forty-five minutes arguing over which movie to watch, so the film—which should have ended by now—had only just started playing on your TV. You teetered on the edge of post-meal drowsiness, your eyes drooping. You fought hard against it; you wanted to stay awake and catch up with Sam, to hear more about how domestic life was finally treating him.

You felt content in your surroundings, and the knowledge that both your boys were here safe made you feel warm. The couch beneath you was soft, and with your head resting in Dean's lap, you felt even more comfortable. His thumb rubbed against your shoulder in small circles, and the rhythm of his touch eventually sent you off to sleep entirely. You had lost the fight.

“She asleep?” Sam asked in a whisper, gesturing with a nod towards you.

Dean shifted ever so slightly and cast his eyes down to you before nodding. "She wouldn't stop askin' me to invite you over. Thought the surprise would keep her buzzed for hours."

Sam chuckled, "Y'know, she can invite me over whenever she wants?"

"Man, if she had it her way, you'd never leave."

Sam smiled, and the two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, until his eyes grew concerned. He sat forward and grabbed the TV remote, turning down the volume until the film playing was barely audible.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, "Can't tell. Sometimes she seems okay. Then… I don't know…"

"What do you mean?"

"Came home today and found her in the kitchen. She was freaking out about dinner—"

"She's never been the best cook."

"I know," Dean said, "but she started tellin' me she wasn't good at anythin' anymore."

Sam's brows furrowed, "It'll take her some time to adjust. I mean, we aren’t exactly the best examples of settling into the real world."

“I keep tellin’ her that, but I don’t think she believes me.”

At that moment, Sam wished for nothing more than for you to wake up. He wanted to tell you about the several times he’d attempted a normal life and failed, how the hunting life had an iron-grip hold on him for years until he finally felt the time was right to cut free. But he decided to leave it for another time. You looked too peaceful.

But he knew that you would be fine. You always were. Aside from his brother, you were one of the strongest people Sam knew.

"How're things going with you and Eileen?" Dean asked. "Honeymoon phase over yet?"

A smile tugged on Sam's lips, "Yeah… I uh—I guess it kinda is."

"Dude, already? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Sam defended. "We've just found a routine. Settled in…"

"And…?"

Sam's hands swiped down his face as he sat back on the couch with a huff. His foot bounced against the floor, his eyes drifting from his brother to you and then back again.

"I wanted to tell you guys together."

Confusion flashed across Dean’s face as he sat up, careful not to jostle you around too much. “Wanted to tell us what?”

Sam let out a breath, “Eileen’s pregnant.”

Silence fell over the lounge room—the only sound being that of the soft dialogue coming from the television. The confusion on Dean’s face slowly morphed into shock, then confusion again, before a grin broke out.

“Are you serious?”

Sam nodded.

“You’re—you’re serious?”

Sam chuckled, nodding again.

There was something about it that Dean couldn’t believe. His brother—his baby brother—was having his own baby. It felt like just yesterday that he was picking him up from Stanford. The man next to him was no longer that college kid; he was starting his own family.

The thought made Dean look down at you. He wondered what it would be like to do all of that with you. Sure, the two of you had spoken about it here and there—marriage, family, the whole nine—but it never really went any further than that.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he looked up from you and back to his brother.

“She’s gonna kill you if she finds out she missed this.”

Sam laughed quietly, which caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “Well then, how ‘bout I stay the night? I’ll tell you guys in the morning… Just—try to act surprised. For our sake.”

“Deal.”

[blueschevy]

Writing Prompt #3795

"I don't know that anyone can love me," she admitted. "Like me? Sure. Enjoy my company enough to pass the time. But...I just don't know that I could be anyone's whole world."

[blueschevy]

daily affirmations:

i am kind

i am in control of my emotions

it does not bother me when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

everyone in the house has the right to be in the kitchen

i am kind and in control of my emotions even when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

[blueschevy]

The one that got away

Summary: Jensens POV.

Jensen is secretly in love with danneels best friend but does everything not to show her. Because he knows Danneel likes him.

Warning: Cheating, light bullying

First I want to start off by saying that this is a work of fiction. In no ways do I mean to harm or disrespect the Ackles family and their friends. I don't know what is happening in their life nor do I know their thoughts. By no means is this story implying I do.

Enjoy!

---

I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I heard we’d be carpooling. Nothing against Y/N—not really. She was sweet, sharp-witted, a bit too honest sometimes—but Danneel insisted.

“Just try it, Jen. She lives like, ten minutes from you. It’s dumb not to.”

I grumbled but said fine. I didn’t want to drive alone every morning anyway, not in Santa Cruz traffic and especially not before sunrise. Plus, I figured it’d be good for Danneel. She adored Y/N. Said they’d been best friends since middle school, when Danneel still wore braces and thought eyeliner was a personality trait.

So yeah. That’s how it started. Me and Y/N. In the car, five days a week.

First week? I was cold. Not because I didn’t like her—but because I liked her too much.

Her voice had that confident, gravelly warmth like she'd smoked a pack of reds but hadn’t. Her laugh was unfiltered. She’d crack open a Diet Coke at 7 AM and argue with me about music, politics, the best way to cook eggs. And I was gone.

But here’s the thing. Danneel liked me. Like, liked me-liked me.

And I’m not a jerk. I’m not the guy who betrays the friend code. Especially not when it’s Danneel. She’s talented, funny, and I cared about her. Not romantically, not like that—but enough to want her happy.

And Y/N…

She was just there. Always around. Always offering me gum or adjusting my collar on set or laughing too loud at some dumb thing I said when I wasn’t even trying to be funny.

I started acting like a jackass, because I didn’t know what else to do.

---

PRESENT DAY – Y/N’s apartment

She invited us over. Said she was hosting a “low-key game night, drinks, maybe cards or some dumb group game.”

“Cool,” I’d muttered. “Who’s coming?”

“Just us. You, me, Danneel... and Liam.”

Liam. That guy.

He was tall, like jared tall, wore that art-school beanie like it was surgically attached to his head. I hated him immediately.

Y/N opened the door wearing a black tank top tucked into high-waisted jeans, hair up in that lazy twist she always said “took no effort.” Bullshit. She looked like she walked out of a Levi’s commercial.

“Hey!” she beamed. “You guys want margaritas or something?”

I shrugged. “Got whiskey?”

She squinted at me. “What is this, a Clint Eastwood movie?”

I smirked. She always got that one wrinkle between her brows when she teased me. I wanted to trace it with my thumb.

Danneel giggled next to me, and I snapped out of it. “Margaritas are fine."

The night passed in flashes.

Liam sat too close. Y/N laughed at his stories, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Still, it made something dark and ugly twist in my chest.

“You always dress like this when you’re trying to impress someone?” I muttered under my breath when we ended up alone in the kitchen.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You just... don’t usually wear lipstick. It’s new.”

“Wow,” she said flatly. “Thanks for noticing, Jensen. Wouldn’t want to accidentally be attractive around you."

I winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you didn’t,” she said, walking away.

Danneel found me sulking ten minutes later. “You good?”

“Peachy,” I said.

---

FLASHBACK – CAMPFIRE, 3 WEEKS AGO

Santa Cruz gets cold at night, even in summer. We were out in Big Basin, camping in this little site Y/N found online. I don’t even like camping. But she asked. Danneel begged. So I went.

I remember the fire crackling, smoke curling up to a velvet sky. Danneel sat beside me, knees curled up, clutching a mug of wine.

Y/N sat across from me. The flames lit her face gold. Her eyes caught the firelight, glowing amber like a secret.

She was talking to Liam —about old horror movies. Something about The Thing being better than Alien. I didn’t hear a damn word.

I just stared.

God, I thought. You don’t even know, do you? You don’t even have a clue what you do to me.

Danneel nudged my arm. “You cold?”

I forced a smile. “Nah.”

She looked at me, soft and hopeful. I didn’t meet her eyes.

Because Y/N shifted then, tucked her hair behind her ear and laughed—loud, free, unashamed. And I was a goner.

I liked her. I really liked her

And she didn’t have a clue.

---

PRESENT DAY – Y/N’s Apartment

After the warm welcome I sat like a statue on the couch, drink in hand, pretending not to watch Liam inch closer to Y/N every five minutes like a dog who thought he had a shot.

Danneel leaned into me more and more, practically in my lap now. She was nervous, I could tell. Her voice was higher than usual, laughing at everything. Her hand rested on my thigh. I didn’t move it. Didn’t encourage it, either. Just… let it sit there like it didn’t make my skin crawl with guilt

Y/N looked across the room at me, her cheeks flushed from the wine. She was relaxed, smiling. Like this was a good night. Like nothing was wrong.

She had no clue what she was doing to me.

“Oh my god, Y/N, do you remember this?” Danneel said, cracking open a photo album from high school. “Look at this one of Y/N with the pink streaks in her hair. You looked like Avril Lavigne’s chaotic twin.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen going on ‘arrested for indecent exposure,’” I said, sipping from my drink. “That skirt should’ve come with a parental advisory sticker.”

Liam laughed too loud. Asshole.

“Oh come on, she was expressing herself,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “I think it’s badass.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered. “You probably have a Pinterest board of young women in crop tops holding books they’ve never read.”

Y/N blinked. “Wow. That’s... unnecessarily rude.”

Danneel giggled beside me, nervously. “Jensen’s just cranky because someone’s more interesting than he is tonight.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Sure. That’s what we’re calling guys who talks nothing but sports and movies... interesting.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “What is your problem tonight?”

“I don’t have a problem,” I said, shrugging. “I’m just enjoying the show. You know, watching everyone fall over themselves pretending they’re not trying to sleep with each other.”

Danneel stiffened beside me. Y/N’s smile dropped. Liam, oblivious, raised his glass.

“To honesty, I guess?”

Y/N shook her head. “Okay, I think we’ve had enough of Jensen’s comedy hour.”

“I need another drink,” I said, standing too fast. My glass was still half full, but I needed the distance.

The kitchen lights were too bright. I stared down into the sink like it had answers. My hand gripped the edge of the counter just a little too tightly.

The slap of footsteps behind me was fast. Sharp. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You seriously want to tell me what the hell that was?” Y/N’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.

I sighed, not turning around. “Wasn’t in the mood for trip down memory lane hosted by you and Beanie Jesus.”

“You were being an asshole. To everyone. But mostly me. And Danneel, who by the way, did nothing to deserve that!”

I turned to face her. Her arms were crossed tight, chest rising and falling with frustration. She looked furious—and gorgeous.

“You think I don’t notice when you pull that crap?” she snapped. “You were vicious, Jensen. Why? So you can mark territory be the bigger alpha?”

I stepped closer. “Watch it.”

“No. I won’t watch it,” she said. “You embarrassed Danneel in front of Liam, you insulted me like I was some high school slut with no self-awareness, and you made Liam feel like he was intruding just by breathing near me.”

“Maybe he was,” I growled.

She blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?”

I stepped closer, the anger bubbling over, boiling past the edges. “You’re sitting there acting like this is some little tea party when Danneel’s practically in my lap and Liam is drooling all over your arm. And I’m supposed to just what? Smile through it? Pretend I like it?”

“Yes!” she shouted. “Because Danneel likes you, Jensen! And if you had two brain cells to rub together, you’d realize that tonight was for her. She needed this. She wanted to spend time with you. And you’re too busy acting like a goddamn teenager—”

“I’m not the one who’s blind here, Y/N!”

“What?!”

“You think I’m being cruel because I’m an asshole,” I said, voice low and shaking, "Because I hate Danneel and Liam in one room? No Y/N for all I care they jump eachother tonight!"

She froze.

But I didn’t stop.

“I’ve been holding it in every day. Every stupid car ride. Every set lunch. Every time I watched you laugh with someone else and act like I was just background noise.” My voice cracked. “And yeah—I’ve been a dick. Because it’s easier to be angry than admit that I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She opened her mouth—some clever comeback, maybe—but I didn’t let her speak.

I kissed her.

Hard.

Fierce.

Like it was the last thing I’d ever do.

Her mouth was soft, warm—but she didn’t kiss me back. She stood there, still, frozen against me like I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

Reality came crashing in like cold water.

I pulled away fast, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, backing up like I’d touched fire. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

I grabbed my keys off the counter, heart pounding.

“Tell Danneel... whatever you want. That I’m a bastard. That I got sick. I'm sorry.”

I turned on my heel and left the apartment without another word.

---

FLASH FORWARD.

I wasn’t prepared.

Not for the sound of her laugh echoing down the corridor, not for the way her silhouette caught the edge of the studio light, haloed in gold

Y/N.

Just standing there like no time had passed.

My whole body locked up.

“Hey, Jensen,” someone called behind me, but it was like the rest of the room dimmed.

She turned slowly, a coffee cup in hand, scanning the room—and then her eyes landed on mine.

I hadn’t seen her in seven years.

Seven years since Y/N walked away from 10 Inch Hero. 5 since I married Danneel. Since I convinced myself I could erase the part of my heart that used to beat for her.

She froze when she saw me. Her lips parted slightly, shock flooding her expression, but she didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

---

We were both quiet when we finally spoke. Small talk, at first.

She told me she’d moved around a lot. Got into special effects for a while, then makeup again. Told me she was freelancing. That she got out of a … difficult relationship. That word hung in the air like smoke.

I told her I was married to Danneel. She nodded once, like it stung more than she wanted it to.

“You look good, I knew she'd make you happy." she said, finally. But with a bitter smile.

“You look…” My voice caught. I tried to keep it neutral. Failed. “Better than I would have ever deserved.”

She laughed, but it was quieter now. Sadder.

---

It was raining by the time we wrapped for the day. Vancouver skies pouring like they knew exactly how dramatic this shit needed to be.

“You have a ride?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “Ride share bailed. I was gonna call another.”

“I’ll drive you,” I said before I could think twice.

She hesitated. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Of course, for old times sake."

She sat beside me in the passenger seat, hugging her coat tighter. Streetlights flickered across her face, painting her in warm and cold alternately.

We didn’t say much. Music hummed softly from the radio. She was still so her. Soft around the edges but sharp where it counted. Tired now, though. Like she’d been carrying too much for too long.

She sighed and looked out the window. “You know I thought about you a lot. About that night."

My hands tightened on the wheel.

“Sorry I didn’t reach out,” she continued. “Because what would’ve been the point, right? In the end.... You got married. You were happy.”

I didn’t respond. Because I didn’t know if I had been.

“I thought you got over it,” she said quietly.

If she only knew.

The rain had slowed to a mist. I pulled up by her curb. She unbuckled her seatbelt and looked at me. "Thanks for the ride,” she said, voice low.

“Anytime,” I murmured, eyes fixed on her. Her fingers hovered over the handle, then paused. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” I asked.

“For… everything I didn’t understand back then. For not seeing it sooner. For waiting until now to talk to you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Don’t.”

She turned toward me fully—and suddenly she looked like that girl by the campfire again, the one I couldn’t stop staring at.

I opened her door, we got out, but for some reason she stayed with her back against the car.

“I still dream about you,” I said out loud like a love sick puppy. But it was the truth.

I didn’t have time to react before she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t hesitant this time.

It was years of silence and heartbreak colliding in one motion. Her hand came to my jaw. My fingers tangled in her coat before I could stop myself.

When she pulled away, we both stayed there—foreheads almost touching, breath mingling in the quiet.

“You don’t have to come in,” she whispered. "But I have Margaritas." I smiled I rather have a whiskey.

---

The door shut behind me with a soft click.

I should’ve walked away. I should’ve said I’m married and meant it like a vow, not a sentence.

But I didn’t.

Because the second I looked at her standing in the soft amber glow of her hallway light, hair damp from the rain, lips parted, eyes on me…

I knew.

I’d never stop wanting her.

It was like time folded in on itself. One step inside her apartment and I wasn’t married, or broken, or scared—I was just a man who’d spent years pretending he didn’t love her.

And she was looking at me like she knew. Like she’d always known.

She stood there silent, nervous. My coat was still clinging to me, rain still drying on my sleeves. And yet, all I could feel was the heat between us.

"You shouldn't be here." She said without remorse.

"Want me to leave?" I said while walking closer.

"No."

---

We barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes were slow to come off—not rushed, not frantic—just reverent. Like every kiss was memorizing, every brush of her fingertips rewriting the years I lost.

My lips found her shoulder, her jaw, her collarbone. I kissed her like I was trying to undo the damage I’d done. And she kissed me like she’d never stopped waiting.

It wasn’t desperate. It was deliberate.

The kind of lovemaking that said I missed you, I needed you, and I’m still yours without ever speaking a word.

We took our time. Again and again.

And when it was done, we didn’t move. My arm stayed around her waist, her fingers resting on my chest, tracing lines like she was trying to sketch my heartbeat into her memory.

---

The sun slipped through the curtains like it was trying not to wake us.

I opened my eyes to find her still tucked beneath my arm, her cheek against my chest. The air was warm with quiet, thick with what came next.

She stretched a little, then looked up at me. "Morning."

After a long peaceful silence she asked.

“What now?” she whispered.

The question landed like a weight on my chest.

I stared at the ceiling, heart racing.

What now?

What now, when I’m still married?

What now, when I’ve wanted you for years and now that I finally have you, I don’t want to let go?

What now, when I don’t know if Danneel deserves to be hurt, but you don’t deserve to be lied to anymore?

I turned to her. My voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to lie to you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said gently. “But I need to know… if this was just last night or once or—”

I cut her off. “No. It wasn’t just last night. It’s never been with you.”

She exhaled, a shaky little breath. Her eyes searched mine.

“I want to be with you,” I said. “I know it’s going to be messy, she is... your friend, and I don’t have all the answers. But if you’re okay with it—if you want this too—I’m not walking away again.”

She blinked, stunned. “You’d really… leave her?”

“For you?” I said, brushing her hair back, hand trembling.

“I think I’ve been trying to be yours since the day I met you.”

---

Taglist:

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @deanswifeyy

[blueschevy]

[blueschevy]

Jensen Ackles | Countdown Press Day, June 17, 2025

[blueschevy]

hiiii i absolutely LOVED husband!ben headcanons, so accurate fr… so i was wondering if we can have a beau version? 🥺👉👈

(as you know i love all your works! you’re awesome heheh)

cw: fluff & smut.ᐟ husband!beau x reader.ᐟ sfw & nsfw headcanons.ᐟ uniform kink.ᐟ authority/dominance.ᐟ pet names [sweetheart, darlin’, pretty girl, my girl].ᐟ 18+

#notes: hi babes, i hope you like it. husband!beau was fun to write for, and we all know this man is definitely a southern gentleman charmer for sure!! these are in no specific order !!

sfw:

⟢ when beau’s got an early shift at the station, he moves real quiet— pulls on his shirt in the dim lighting, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “sleep in for me, darlin’,” he whispers, tucking the blankets back around you. when you wake later, theres already breakfast plated and waiting for you.

⟢ beau never lets you open your own car door— doesn’t matter if it’s raining, snowing, or hot as hell. he jogs around the truck with one hand on his belt “what kinda man would i be if i let my wife touch a handle?”

⟢ along with never touching doors, this goes for pulling out your chair at every restaurant, every time. even the diner you’ve been to a hundred times, he still does it on instinct— hand at the small of your back, eyes soft, murmuring “there we go, sweetheart.”

⟢ always insists on carrying every grocery bag, even if it cuts off circulation in his forearms and fingers. “i said i got it,” he grunts, arms piled, walking sideways through the door while you laugh at him.

⟢ slips his jacket around your shoulders when the wind picks up— even if he’s freezing and you said you ‘weren’t cold’. “don’t argue with me, honey,” he murmurs, already brushing off your shoulders. “you know i’ll win.”

⟢ sometimes he slow dances with you in the kitchen after dinner— sometimes with no music, just the hum of the fridge. other times it’s a song you had at your wedding. his hands settle around your hips and he whispers something like “been wanting to hold you like this all day.”

⟢ when you fall asleep on the couch, beau never wakes you. instead he scoops you up carefully— whispers “i gotcha, darlin’” and carries you to bed. tucks the blanket under your chin, presses a kiss to your shoulder.

⟢ beau collects commonly needed things you use in his truck. like keeping honey packets in his glove box just in case your throat hurts. keeping a lipgloss or chapstick in his breast pocket of his jacket.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

nsfw:

⟢ beau always likes to start soft— kisses down your belly, hands squeezing your thighs, over your tits. murmurs “my gorgeous wife,” between every lick, every wet kiss. but the second you start whining? hips bucking and grinding up into his mouth? he pins your legs down and growls “i said lie still, honey” and he’ll make you stay down.

⟢ whenever he catches you doing basic chores like folding laundry in just one of his old t-shirts— bare legs, jiggly sway in your hips. he doesn’t even say anything. simply spins you around, bends you over the dryer “doin’ that on purpose, aren’t ya?” pulls your panties to the side and takes you right there. same goes with pretty much any surface.

⟢ sometimes he comes home from work all stressed and tense, his hands on your waist the second you pass him a drink. “get in the shower with me,” he says. and when you do— he got you up against the wall, palms your breasts, moans into your neck while he takes you slow and deep from behind.

⟢ you steal his sheriff’s badge one day, giggling as you clip it to your shirt collar. mocking his stern authority “look at me, i’m in charge now.” he just raises an eyebrow, sits on the couch and spreads his thighs “then get over here and take a ride, officer. let’s see if you can handle bein’ in control.” safe to say you don’t last five minutes.

⟢ beau uses his cuffs once on you. you’d been teasing him all day, leaning over in that flowy sundress, whispering filth in his ear while he’s on the phone. so now you’re naked, wrists cuffed to the headboard, squirming while he kneels between your thighs and mutters “you wanted my attention? good. now you’re gettin’ all of it.”

⟢ you straddle him wearing nothing but his cowboy hat— it’s big and heavy on your head, still smelling like him. he’s got a lazy grin, hands on your hips as you ride him, flushed and breathless. “look at you,” he hums in awe, “wearin’ my hat, ridin’ my cock. never lettin’ you outta this house again.”

⟢ he’s got you bent over the bed, hand on your lower back, pushing down enough to make your spine arch. “y’wanna get fucked, pretty girl?” he mutters, cock dragging slow through your soaked folds. you hesitate, flushed and breathless— so he spanks you once, “beau—”you gasp, but quickly correct yourself with a “yes, sir,” and he growls in approval, finally sliding in deep. “that’s my girl.”

divider creds

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @kamisobsessed @thesevnthseal @lunaleah

[blueschevy]

would love soft(ish?) dom Beau headcanons queen 🤲🏻 (if ya nasty)

okay purrr dom!beau is everything to me !!! here’s what’s popping into my head rn !!!! 18+ ofc <3

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𓇬︎︎ dom!beau is all about “yes, sir” & “no, sir” in the bedroom. it’s a respect thing, and it’s how he was raised. it makes him feel big and important, and it gets his dick hard.

𓇬︎︎ aftercare is sooo important to him. it starts off with a lot of verbal check-ins as soon as he pulls out, “you alright, darlin’?” “c’mon, look at me, honey. give me a smile, yeah?” “there you are. you alright?” “that’s my girl.”

𓇬︎︎ then it’s a forehead kiss, a quick wipe between your legs with a lukewarm wet towel, and lots of cuddling.

𓇬︎︎ but then after half an hour or so, it’s “alright, baby. you gotta get up and pee.” beau is hyper-vigilant about making sure you flush out any lingering nasties between your legs—he wants his girl healthy and infection-free. and if you refuse because you’re too comfortable or too tired, it’s “no. up, now. i’m not playing, little lady. you gotta go pee.”

𓇬︎︎ during sex though, he looooves giving you commands. “louder, darlin’. let me hear ya” and lots of “nuh uh uh, keep your eyes on me.” obedience is suuuuch a turn-on for him.

𓇬︎︎ dom!beau is big on praising and teasing. “there’s my pretty angel. all spread out and glistening f’me already, huh? haven’t even touched you yet.” he’ll say anything to make you squirm and blush. it’s his favourite thing.

𓇬︎︎ he’s just not into degradation. sorry not sorry.

𓇬︎︎ last thing i can think of is guided masturbation. he likes watching you touch yourself on the bed while he sits across the room, armed with a grin on his face. “yeah, just like that, sweetheart. don’t be embarrassed. tell me how good it feels. bet you wish those were my fingers, huh?” again, he’s big on instructions, so it’s “slowly, darlin’. and look at me. spread that pretty pussy f’me, yeah? let me see her.”

[blueschevy]

PLEASE WRITE AB HOW BEN WILL BE A HUSBAND😩😩😩😩😩i crave him

cw: fluff & smut.ᐟ fiancé!ben.ᐟ husband!ben.ᐟ sfw & nsfw headcanons.ᐟ pet names [sweetheart, baby, wife].ᐟ 18+

۫ ꣑ৎ bee yaps: hii anon, i added some wedding related ben headcanons along with ben as a husband. because in my mind, ben would totally go against the idea of labels and marriage at first. hope you like it ꫂ ၴႅၴ

fiance!ben:

⟢ ben swore up and down he’d never get married. “the hell do i need a piece of paper for? ain’t like it means anything.” he said it so many times at the start, you stopped bringing it up. but as years pass, and he’s still with you. still sleeps tangled up with you, still defends you like his life depends on it. he starts getting more affectionate, even more possessive. one day he just blurts it out. “you’d say yes, right? if i asked?”

⟢ every part of the planning process, oh lord. “god damn cake tastings, fuckin’ caterers, why the hell do we need six goddamn forks?” nearly throws a folding chair during the rehearsal dinner because someone keeps calling him “the groom” like it’s an insult. he’s not a groom he’s fucking “soldier boy” !! “you say the word, sweetheart, and we elope in fuckin’ vegas tonight.”

⟢ he ‘jokes’— relentlessly about wearing his supe suit to the ceremony. you threaten to cancel the whole thing every time he brings it up. “it’s classic, baby. dark green, gold, stars. what’s more romantic than liberty?” he settles for a dark green dress-suit, that’s military inspired but tailored sharp. but he still refuses to wear a boutonniere because he “ain’t a flower girl.”

⟢ but at the reception?? he never stops touching you. arm on the back of your chair, palm on your lower back, a kiss to your temple before the first dance. “don’t expect me to spin you around like those young bastards, i ain’t pulling a hamstring.” he’s too drunk by the end of the night, slurring that he “fucking won” because of you, all dressed in white, clinging to his arm. “best decision i ever made,” he mutters against your neck while you try to drag him upstairs.

⟢ also… ben gets drunk at the reception and won’t shut up about being married, now that the tedious part is over. arm around your shoulder and a whiskey in the other. slurring “that’s my wife” to anyone within ten feet. someone compliments your dress and he slurs, “fuckin’ right she looks good. shes a married lady, asshole— watch it.”

⟢ that night when all is said and done, he takes his time, surprisingly gentle. it’s not performative or his ego, just ben, married and settling you into the mattress like he’s earned it. “mrs. fucking soldier boy,” he grins against your skin. “officially mine now, huh?”

husband!ben:

⟢ gets jealous when someone compliments your cooking. even if it’s your own family. he stands behind you rubbing your hips while you plate dinner, whispering “you don’t gotta cook like that for anybody but me, y’know that?”

⟢ ben violently refuses to read the instruction manuals on anything. he opens the box, dumps everything out on the floor, and mutters, “how hard can it be?” two hours later, the coffee table has one leg shorter than the others, and he’s bleeding from the knuckle. “it’s not rocket science, baby. i was in wars before, i think i can handle a couple screws and wooden pegs.”

⟢ ben who swears up and down he hates all your shit cluttering the bathroom. he grumbles every time he steps in there— “christ, it’s like a fuckin’ sephora exploded.” your shampoo bottles are lined up like little soldiers, skin serums he can’t pronounce, razors with pink handles “can’t find a goddamn thing in here,” he mutters, brushing his teeth with your glittery cup beside him. but sometimes— you secretly catch him. when the door is cracked open just enough to see him pick up your body wash and sniff it, once, then twice. slow, like he’s testing if he likes it [and he does].

⟢ insist on checking your car before every drive. it’s so old school of him. every oil change, tire rotation, windshield wiper squeak— he’s on it. if he can’t fix it himself, he’s pacing in the mechanic shop like they’re performing heart surgery. “you’re not drivin’ that damn thing till it’s safe.”

⟢ you watch old movies together but he falls asleep in ten minutes. snoozes with his mouth open, snoring softly, but refuses to admit it later. “was just restin’ my eyes.”

⟢ making breakfast every morning, ben pretends he’s innocent when he walks up behind you, hands on your belly. but keeps grinding slow against your ass until he’s hard as a rock and you’re turning off the stove and dragging him back to bed. “breakfast can wait, baby.”

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @littlejackles @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @kamisobsessed @thesevnthseal

[blueschevy]

hiii lovely, I hope you’re doing well 💙 i’m on the verge of sleep lol, but I have a fun question for youu :) in your opinion which jackles character likes to say “my wife” the most? 😗 (I mean i’m sure they’d all be down bad for their spouse lmao, but who do you think takes the cake? 🤣)

sidenote; I hope everything is going good for you !! If I remember correctly you had a lot goin on lately, I hope everything is settling smoothly <33

Hey, friend!! Sorry it's taken me a while to answer. I just started a new job this week, so my brain is all over the place. 🤪 (Thank you for asking! 💕) But I loooove this question lol. Let's say we're talking about the Big Four - Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw.

HEADCANON: Who says "my wife" the most?

Yeah I feel like if they all got to the point of letting someone in that deep, all of them would be down bad for their girl lol. But I feel like it would go something like this:

Dean Winchester + Soldier Boy (Ben): Protective 👿

Not to say that Beau and Russell aren't protective bois too, but I feel like Dean and Ben are more likely to "say it" in that gut punch situation where they're about to tear someone a new orifice.

"Fuck off, asshole. That's my wife."

"That's my wife. Show her some fucking respect, before I break every limp-dick fucking bone in your body."

Beau Arlen + Russell Shaw: Playful 😘

I think Beau and Russ are more likely to "say it" more often, but in that playful, endearing, flirty teasing way.

"How's my lovely wife doing on this beautiful evening?" He wraps you up in his arms, fully knowing how late he is and trying to lighten up your glare. "Waiting three hours for her husband to get off work so we can actually make it to our anniversary dinner," you snip. "I managed to rechedule the reservation, but we've gotta move quick if we're going to make it in half an hour." He butters you up in any way possible, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. "That's why I love you. You always think ahead." Rolling your eyes, but still smiling, you grab ahold of his tie. "All right, cowboy. Let's go."

"Ooh, I can't be seen with the likes of you, sweetheart. My wife would kill me." Cue a mischievous smirk. You shake your head in amusement. God. This man. You still let him slip his arms around your waist and pull you in close, so he can trail his lips up your neck, inhaling the alluring scent of your perfume. You giggle breathlessly. This is one of his favorite little games. The gold band on the ring finger of your left hand matching the one on his calls his bluff though. "She doesn't have to know," you purr. Your lips are just shy of a whisper near his ear. "This can be our little secret."

AN: @wvffles I hope this answers your question! 😘💓

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[blueschevy]

Phantom Pains Teaser

Pairing: Mark Meachum x FBI Agent!reader

A/N #1: A short little baby teaser of how my new Mark Meachum series, Phantom Pains will look like. Just a heads up, the actual first part will very likely not be out for awhile (until we get maybe a few weeks of Countdown in and we can learn more about Mark. Enjoy! 😉

_______

Fifteen minutes remaining. 

Your ears perked up at the overhead speaker. Honestly you were surprised the game was still going. At last year’s convention, both teams had finished in less than five minutes. Granted, that wasn’t the intention. But you know, give a group of adults in law enforcement paintball guns and tell them the losing team has to do group karaoke as punishment and things get spicy real fast.

You were having more fun with it this year for sure. Last you took a stray friendly fire shot to the leg and were deemed killed in about eight seconds. So far you’d taken out three blue team members and gave an assist to capturing another. Maybe you only had one shot left but all you had to do was sneak up on someone and was that really all that hard?

You could hear arguing, recognizing one of the voices as that asshole from orientation that thought he could get away with grabbing your ass. You rounded the corner into an open room, asshole, who was sadly on your team, cornering a blue team guy who was on his knees, hands on his head.

You nearly stopped cold. Good lord. Blue team guy was handsome. Incredibly handsome. Shit, people were actually that hot in real life? It took less than a second before you decided getting out and losing the game would be worth giving the asshole some payback.

“Well hello boys,” you said, both of them looking at you. You gave blue team guy a wink as you pulled the trigger, hitting asshole square in the balls. He dropped to the ground, glaring at you.

“What the-” He shut up when you put your boot down over his dick and gave him a smile.

“Touch a woman without permission again and I’ll cut them off in your sleep. Understand?” You slammed your foot down, asshole howling and curling up into a ball. “I need an answer.”

“Alright, alright!”

“You better because I’ll be keeping an eye on you from now on. Leave. Now.” He hobbled to his feet and left the room, grumbling all the way. You turned to the blue team guy, his eyes wide. “You can get up, handsome.”

He kept his hands on his head, a laugh escaping you. “Well, what a well behaved prisoner you are.”

“Not in the mood to get my balls crushed,” he said. You bit the inside of your cheek, kicking his gun that was on the floor over to him. He raised an eyebrow as you shrugged. 

“He copped a feel while I was in the check-in line.” He frowned, lowering his hands when you nodded. “I don’t tolerate that shit.”

“Did you report him?” You stared at the gun on the ground, the man making no move towards it.

“I have no proof. Don’t worry about it. I got my revenge. And his department back home will get an anonymous tip to watch him.” He nodded, stepping over the gun and in front of you. “You realize you’re free to go, right?”

“I might go. Might not. Still deciding.” You tilted your head, blue team guy smirking. “Why’d you stare at me like that when you came inside?”

“I didn’t stare,” you scoffed. He laughed, raising his chin upwards. “I didn’t.”

“Score is close. Every point counts. Tell me the honest truth and I’ll let you walk me out as your prisoner.” You looked at him through your lashes, eyes darkening.

“Honestly? I thought, would you look at that? A handsome man on his knees, exactly where he belongs.” His eyebrows went sky high, his cheeks flushing as he tried to control the smirk on his face. “That’s not harassment by the way. I didn’t say that to you until you asked.”

“I don’t remember saying I had a problem with it.” He licked his lips, eyes crawling down your body slowly. “You going to kick me in the nuts if I ask if I can buy you drink tonight?”

“Let’s make it more interesting,” you said, stepping away from him. “Catch me and you can have your drink.”

“Catch you?” he asked as you grinned. 

“Didn’t I mention? I’m all out of ammo.” His breath caught as you winked. “See ya!” 

You took off down the hall, hearing his heavy footfalls chase after.

Oh yeah, this year was more fun for sure.

Midnight

You stirred the straw in your drink as you felt a presence roll up beside you at the hotel bar. He ordered a beer for himself and another Old fashioned for you.

“I thought I remember saying you had to, you know, catch me to buy me a drink,” you said, his jean covered thigh brushing over your bare one.

“You did,” he said, your gaze flickering over to him. He had on a simple gray t-shirt, a dark gray jacket over top, a pair of black boots on his feet. 

“Well it’s a good thing you can sing since you can’t hear for shit,” you said, finishing off your drink before another was set down in front of you. “Excellent Brittany tonight.”

“Oops I Did It Again is more my repertoire but I can make Toxic work any day. Mark Meachum by the way,” he said, holding out a hand to you. You waited a beat before shaking it.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N Y/L/N, I think we established earlier I could buy you a drink as long as I caught you, correct?” You took a sip, watching him pick up his beer and grin as he long necked it.

“I bet you’re a cop. You’re a cop aren’t you.” He chuckled.

“What gave it away?”

“Only you guys ask the same dumb questions over and over,” you teased, leaning one elbow against the bar top. “But yes Mark Meachum, those were the rules. Yet I don’t recall you catching me during the training so…”

“Ah ah,” he said, leaning back on his stool, pointing his beer at you. “See, you never specified I had to catch you during the training.”

You touched a hand to your chest. “How silly of me.”

“It’s alright. I know you’re ridiculously attracted to me and that probably is still short-circuiting your brain.” You smirked, watching him take a smaller sip from his bottle. “I did catch you therefore I can buy you a drink.”

“I still fail to see when and where exactly I was caught, Meachum.” His grin darkened, eyes wandering past you as if he weren’t interested in responding.

“Silly me. I must have been thinking of how by the end of the week, I’ll have ruined you for all other men and you’ll have fallen oh so madly in love with me.” You snorted, Mark laughing. “Okay, that is freaking adorable.”

“Oh, you’re so delusional, honey. But it’s cute you think I’m going to fall for a cop at a law enforcement conference aka hookup capital of the world.”

“If you’re so confident, what’s the harm in entertaining me?” he asked, leaning forward, resting his elbow against the bar, resting his cheek in it. His eyes warmed, something on so sincere under that playful nature. “Worst case, you have a week of incredible sex and then we never see each other again. Best case, we fall in love, met married, do the whole house and kids thing, and you get incredible sex for the rest of your life. I’m failing to see the downsides here.”

“You got a decade on me.”

“I bet you give incredible sponge baths,” he teased.

“I’m not moving.”

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, baby.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Do these lines actually work?” He shrugged, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Give me a chance.” You pursed your lips, glancing at your drink. “I’ll even get down on my knees since you love that so much.”

“Tell me one real thing about you,” you said, Mark shifting closer, leaning in as if he wanted to tell you a secret.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Right, like you don’t say that to all the girls wearing mini-skirts at the bar.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this look is…tantalizing,” he said, brushing a knuckle over your knee cap, careful not to wander further. “But sweaty frizzy hair, t-shirt, combat boots and cargo pants with safety glasses…that woman took my breath away.”

This was a bad idea. This was a supremely bad idea. 

Oh fuck it.

“Alright, Casanova. I’ll give you your week. But the sex better be earth shattering.” You finished off your drink and slid off the stool, smoothing out your skirt. “Well? You going to take me to your room so I can see you on your knees or what?”

“After you, Y/L/N.”

___________

[blueschevy]

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