Hi đđ» I write Supernatural fanfiction. I flirt heavily with Dean, but open to writing for other Jensen characters. Main Masterlist
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Just wanted you to know someone out there is thinking of you and wishing you the very best. đ§Ą
Thank you anon đ„č I wish you all the best too lovely đ
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Thank you for the tags guys @ambiguous-avery @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @bettystonewell @voodoochildthings
I donât use pinterest much but theyâre kinda accurate,, i guess đ
Let Pinterest describe you to the best of its abilities and share how accurate you believe it is!! Use the first picture that pops up!
Aesthetic, character, me



No pressure tags: @waynes-multiverse @zepskies @beakaleak32 @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy @bejeweledinterludes @maddie0101 @middleearthislife @losers-clvb + anyone whoâd love to join <3
àšà§ â TAG GAME !!
let pinterest describe you to its best abilitys and share how accurate you believe it is!! use the first picture that pops up!!
first search âaestheticâ, then âcharacterâ, and lastly âmeâ



i think mine is pretty accurate!!đ
no pressure tags âË⥠@mattybsgroupie @bernardsbendystraws @mattsweethrt @mattscoquette @whore4mattandchris @whor3ing @stvrniolostan @chrisbratt333 + anyone else who would like to join in!!
â have fun á„«áĄ
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Oh he sure would, but so would she and thats both the beauty and the beast of their relationship đ„Čđ
A Dangerous Love
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Sam's POV of yours and Dean's relationship.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings/tags: Implied smut, angst, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, poor Sammy! Dean being his typical over protective self, both of them are stubborn.
AN: Hey guys, I know I've been MIA for a lil while, but I'm doing okay, still getting there, although this isn't a full return, I just wanted to pop on and give you guys a little something, as well as catch up on some reading now I have a minute đ
. This was sitting in my drafts and finally touched it up. I tried something little different with It being from Sam's POV. But I enjoyed this one and I hope you guys do too! â€ïž
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They were fighting again.
Sam didnât even flinch. He barely glanced up from his laptop as the sharp words echoed through the paper-thin motel wallsâvoices rising, footsteps pounding, another inevitable blowout brewing like a summer storm.
âYou canât just run in like that!â
âI had it handled!â
âNo, you almost got yourself killed!â
âIâm not a child, Dean! I know what Iâm doing!â
âWell, you couldâve fooled me with the way you acted tonight!â
Sam sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Heâd heard this fight a hundred timesâprobably more. Same argument, different hunt. Dean being overprotective, you pushing back, neither of you knowing when to shut up.
Then came the inevitableâ
âGo to hell!â
âAlready been, sweetheart.â
Sam winced a second before a door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls. Right on cue, his own door flew open, and in stormed Deanâstill fuming, chest heaving, hands clenched at his sides, his face flushed with frustration.
Sam didnât look up. Heâd learned his lesson. Playing mediator between you two was about as effective as standing between two charging bulls. So, he kept his eyes locked on his screen, feigning deep concentration on the case he was researching.
A small town in Lincoln, Nebraska. Three bodies in a week, hearts missing. Probably a werewolf. Maybe a Rugaru. Definitely not as terrifying as the emotional carnage currently unraveling in the room.
Dean stalked back and forth like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair. âUnbelievable,â he muttered, mostly to himself.
Sam made the mistake of humming in vague agreement. That was all the opening Dean needed.
âRight? I mean, she justâshe just goes in, no backup, no plan, like sheâs got a damn death wish.â
Sam finally looked at his brother, eyebrows raised. âYou mean like you do? All the time?â
Dean scowled. âThatâs different.â
Sam snorted. âOh, is it?â
But Dean ignored him, too deep in his rant to acknowledge logic.
âShe doesnât listen. Ever. I tell her to stay back, and what does she do? Runs straight into danger like sheâs got something to prove.â
From the other side of the wall came a muffled, but unmistakably pissed-off voice: âI can hear you, jackass!â
Dean didnât even hesitate. âGood!â
Sam sighed, long and suffering, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was his life. Not just the near-death experiences, not just the monsters and the ghostsâno, this. Being caught between his stubborn brother and his brotherâs equally stubborn, equally reckless, equally loud girlfriend.
Dean, still grumbling to himself, flopped onto the opposite bed and crossed his arms like an angry child. Sam wisely said nothing. He knew the drillâDean would rant, stew for a while, and eventually, in a few daysâ
Wait... Scratch that.Â
A few hours later, Sam was rudely jolted awake by a very different kind of disturbance.
Something rhythmic. Repetitive. Suspiciously⊠breathy.
At first, his sleep-fogged brain struggled to make sense of it. A fight? Noâtoo much giggling between the groans.
And thenâ
Oh. Oh, no.
Realisation hit like a freight train at full speed and his stomach churned.
The unmistakable sound of a headboard knocking against the wall. The low, hushed moans. And worst of allâ
âOh, God, Deanââ
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Sam groaned, grabbed his pillow, and smothered his own face with it like he could suffocate the memories before they fully formed. How could he forget about the damn make-up sex? He shouldâve known when Dean left the room and didnât return that this is what would come of it.Â
Burying himself deeper under the blanket, he contemplated driving to another damn state. Maybe exorcising himself. Was there a ritual for that? A way to erase the mental scarring?
Eventually, after a painfully long time, blissful silence returned, and with it, the symbolic, albeit fragile, truce between you and Dean.
The next morning, Sam nursed his coffee like a war veteran as he sat in the outdated diner, watching the two of you with equal parts fascination and whiplash.
You were nestled beside Dean on the other side of the booth, stealing bites of his pancakes with a smug grin.
Deanâwho, under normal circumstances, would stab a man with a fork for even looking at his foodâjust smirked, all stupid heart eyes, letting you get away with it like you were some divine exception to the rule.
Sam squinted. Not even twenty-four hours ago, you two were about five seconds away from an actual homicide.
Now? Now, you were practically glowing, exchanging touches, finishing each otherâs sentences, giggling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a CW drama.
Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
Every relationship expert on the planet would call this toxic. Hell, if he described it to anyoneâthe explosive fights, the impossible stubbornness, the complete disregard for self-preservation when it came to each otherâtheyâd probably diagnose you both with something and slap you with a warning label.
But for as long as he could rememberâeven before you and Dean finally got togetherâit had always been like this. Back when you were just a couple of reckless teenagers, trading jabs and daring each other into stupid, dangerous situations. Before things got complicated with feelings and labels.
You and Dean were like flint and steelâconstantly striking, constantly sparking, burning hotter than anything Sam had ever seen.
But the fire never went out.
It should have. By all logic, it should have burned itself to the ground a dozen times over. But instead, it just kept going, somehow forging you both into something stronger.
It was chaos. It was infuriating.
And, honestly? It was kind of impressive.
Even if it made Samâs head want to implode.
But then there were moments that tore away all the noise, stripped everything down to the bare bones of what you and Dean truly were. Moments that left no room for doubt.
Because when it came down to itâwhen it really matteredâthe two of you didnât just care. Didnât just love each other. You were willing to bleed for one another, break for the other, burn the whole damn world down if you had to.
And tonight? Tonight just proved that.
The hunt was supposed to be routineâget in, take care of the pack, get out. But the damn werewolves were faster, stronger. They had numbers. And somewhere between the chaos and the fighting, you made a split-second decision.
You saved Deanâs life. And you nearly lost your own in the process.
Dean caught you before you hit the ground. One second you were standing, the next you were collapsing, blood soaking through your shirt, pooling between his fingers as he pressed down hard against the gash in your side.
âNoâno, no, no,â Deanâs voice was hoarse, raw with panic. âYou're okay. I got you.â
Sam barely had time to react before Deanâs head snapped up, his eyes wild, desperate.
âSam! Get the car!â
Sam was already moving, sprinting for the Impala as Dean held you against him, his flannel already stripped from his shoulders and bunched against your wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
âYouâre gonna be okay, sweetheart,â Dean murmured, his grip unrelenting. His fingers trembled against your skin, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. âJust hang on. I got you.â
Sam skidded to a stop beside the car, yanking the door open. He turned back just in time to see Dean lifting you into his arms, his expression twisted in barely contained panic.
Sam didnât miss the way his brother held youânot just with urgency, but with a kind of care that made his chest ache.
He helped ease you into the back seat with Dean, still pressing the flannel to your side. His voice was shaking, but his grip was steady.
"Step on it, Sammy.â
Sam didnât argue. The second he was behind the wheel, he floored it, tires screeching against the asphalt.
The drive was a blur of traffic violations, but because it was nearing midnight, the roads were practically empty, making up for the reckless driving. The city flashed by in streaks of yellow and white, and in the rearview mirror, Sam could see Dean cradling you against him, his forehead nearly pressed to yours as he whispered every reassurance he could think of.
"Stay with me, sweetheart.â
"Youâre okay.â
âI swear to God, youâre gonna be okay.â
But Sam heard the crack in his brotherâs voice. Saw the way his hands were shaking. Dean wasnât just worried. He was terrified.
By the time they crashed through the ER doors, shouting for help, Dean was covered in your blood.
The nurses barely had time to react before Dean was snapping at them to hurry, his voice sharp, desperate. And then you were goneâwhisked away behind double doors, leaving Dean standing there, breathing hard, fists clenched, and your blood staining his hands.
Then came the waiting.
Dean couldnât sit still. He paced the hospital waiting room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair over and over, jaw tight, eyes darting to every single doctor or nurse that walked by. Â
The agitation built inside him like a pressure valve ready to burst, as Sam sat nearby, watching his brother unravel, feeling helpless.
"What the hell is taking so long?" he growled, throwing his arms up in frustration as his gaze stayed trained on the double doors they had wheeled you through. Â
Sam let out a quiet sigh. He was just as worried, but kicking and screaming wasnât going to make time move faster. âTheyâre doing everything they can, man. You have to let them do their job.â Â
Dean clenched his jaw, his entire body rigid with anxiety, and Sam could see the cracks forming in his brotherâs usual composure. Deannwas a lot of thingsâfearless, reckless, stubborn as hellâbut right now? Right now, he just looked scared.
When the doctor finally approached them, Dean nearly jumped down his throat. Â
"How is she? Is she okay?"
âShe lost a lot of blood,â the doctor said. âBut weâve managed to stabilize her. She needs plenty of rest, and weâll have to monitor her overnight and go from there.â Â
Sam let out a breath of relief. But DeanâDeanâs shoulders sagged, his lips pressing into a thin line as something unreadable passed through his expression. Â
They had lied, of course. Told the doctors youâd been attacked by a bear because ââyeah, doc, she got slashed by a goddamn werewolfâ â wouldâve landed them in padded cells. Thankfully, the doctors didnât ask too many questions.
When they were finally allowed to see you, Sam watched as Dean crumbled at the sight of you lying in that hospital bed. Â
You looked so small. So fragile. The machines beeped steadily beside you, an IV hooked up to your arm, your face pale from the blood loss. It made even Samâs heart twinge painfully to see you this way. You were not only his brotherâs girlfriend. You were his best friend. His sister.
Dean approached cautiously, like he was afraid youâd disappear if he got too close. Then, without a word, he sat beside you and grasped your hand, his fingers brushing over your knuckles with a gentleness that didnât match the man who had just been almost punching walls in the waiting room. Â
His throat bobbed. Then, wordlessly, he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering there as he exhaled shakily.
"You scared the hell outta me," he muttered, his voice thick, raw. âYouâre gonna pull through this, you hear me?â
He swallowed hard, then softer, more brokenâ "cause' I can't lose you."
Sam swallowed hard against his own emotions. He knew this wasnât just about saving you anymore. It was about Dean confronting the most terrifying thing he could ever imagineâthe thought of losing you. And for a man like Dean, who was constantly worrying about this very thing, you'd think he'd be somewhat prepared for the real thing. Evidently not. It was crushing, breaking him into a thousand pieces.
Sam wasnât sure how long he stood there, watching the way Deanâs thumb traced gentle circles against your skin, but he saw the anger rise, predictable from his brother's guilt and fear as it continued to chip away at him the longer he looked at you.Â
âDammit, Y/N. Why didnât you listen to me? Iââ Deanâs breath hitched, and for a moment, he just closed his eyes, like he was trying to pull himself together. Â
And then, as if on cue, you stirred. Your fingers twitched in his grasp, your eyelids fluttering, and Dean went stillâhis breath caught, his entire body frozen as he waited.
Slowly, your eyes opened, hazy with exhaustion and pain, but when they focused on him, you still managed a weak, lopsided smile.
"Worth it.â you murmured, voice hoarse. Â
Dean closed his eyes like he wanted to strangle you and kiss you at the same time, because of course youâd have a comeback, even on the brink of death.
Sam huffed a small, teary laugh, shaking his head.
Because this was the two of you. Always on the brink of disaster. Always throwing yourselves in front of danger for each other. Always driving each other insane.
It was a deep love. A dangerous love.
But it was real.
And it was true.

AN: What started off as a Drabble, became a one shot lol. I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was fun to do. đđ Also I am still working on part 2 of In The End , I'm sorry for the delay guys đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#spn#spn fanfic#sam winchester#jensen ackles#spnfamily#lovely moots
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Jensen Ackles as Mark Meachum COUNTDOWN (2025). The show will premiere on June 25th. [x]
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Forever a favourite đđđ»
âA Study In Tattoosâ Masterlist

A Dean!AU series that follows the reader, a masters student who decides to come home for the summer, only to find out that her parents are renting out her roomâŠto a Dean Winchester. Dean seems to catch your eye while he helps bartend at his brother Samâs bar and again when you find out heâs a tattoo artist. The summer is filled with ups and downs of your relationship with Dean, and your two best friends Castiel and Jess. Will your relationship work out?Â
1Â
2Â
3Â
4Â
5Â
6Â
7Â
8Â
9Â
10Â
11Â
12Â
13Â
14Â
EpilogueÂ
Now
Missing Scenes: Engagement
#a study in tattoos#dean x reader#dean!au#dean smut#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x you#dean angst#spn#spn fanfic#writer appreciation
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đđđ
There are still a few on my tbrâs which i hope to get to soon but for now, i will leave you with this đđ» because yâall deserve it!
And also thank you to @chevroletdean for creating such a wonderful challenge and such amazing mood-boards to inspire everyone đđ»đ
[MASTERPOST] CHEVROLETDEAN'S 500
Thank you guys again for 500+ followers and of course thank you to everyone who participated in this writing challenge! I would've never guessed that so many people would enter. I hope this was as much fun for you as it was for me.
I have yet to reblog a couple of submissions, sorry for the delay OTL I want to add a proper comment to them all!! Make sure to keep track of the #chevroletdean's 500 hashtag, but I will also edit / add onto this masterpost, say, if someone posted their story sometime later.
Without further ado, here is a masterlist of all the wonderful stories you amazing people wrote!
Clowning Around by @supernotnatural2005
Summary: Youâve got a crush on Dean, your best friendâs brother. The catch, he's only in town for a few more days. However, all it takes is a haunted house, a punch to the face and a surprising confession to know where you stand.
Colors & Moodboard: Yellow, Orange, Purple đđ§Ąđ
Taste by @zepskies
Summary: Itâs a devastating hunger. He finds you, at his own risk.
Colors & Moodboard: Purple, Black, Red đđ€â€ïž
10 'Til Midnight by @zepskies
Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.
Colors & Moodboard: Red, Gold, Beige â€ïžđđ€
Summertime Kisses by @that-stanford-girlie
Colors & Moodboard: Blue, Green, Red đđâ€ïž
Burning Lines by @that-stanford-girlie
Colors & Moodboard: Red, Purple, Black â€ïžđđ€
Let Me Be Part of Your World by @that-stanford-girlie
Colors & Moodboard: Gold, White, Holo đđ€
If You Leave by @bettystonewell
Summary: In the spring of 1988, Dean meets the girl of his dreams. He just doesnât know it yet.
Colors & Moodboard: Turquoise, Pink, Black đ©”đ©·đ€
Florida!!! by @waynes-multiverse
Summary: One fishy monster hunt, one sweaty afternoon at the beach, and one innocent popsicle â Florida is fucking hell for Dean.
Colors & Moodboard: Yellow, Orange, Turquoise đđ§Ąđ©”
Not Without You by @lamentationsofalonelypotato
Summary: A cursed crown, teenagers, an evil goddess bent on revenge, and two best friends who have secretly been in love for years. What could go wrong?
Colors & Moodboard: Green, Silver, Black đđ©¶đ€
i am insane by @rubyvhs
Colors & Moodboard: Rosegold, White đ©·đ€
I'm Tellin' Ya by @justwhisperingfantasies
Summary: Dean's having a bad day, luckily he finds someone to help turn his frown upside down.
Colors & Moodboard: Blue, Silver đđ©¶
Seasons Of Love by @scarletqueenx
Summary: When the world is finally safe and Dean gives up hunting, one winter morning, he shows up at your house, looking for a place to belong and a purpose for a future he never thought he could have.
Colors & Moodboard: White, Black, Blue đ€đ€đ
Ribbon by @kamisobsessed
Summary: It's your anniversary. He takes you away from the chaos of the world for a weekend. Just you, him, and a cozy cabin.
Colors & Moodboard: Black, Green, Gold đ€đđ
spring, honey, forest, etc. by @samsblades
Summary: you can't help but compare sam to sweet and beautiful things like spring, honey, and forests.
Colors & Moodboard: Beige, Green đ€đ
The Elf Queen and the Knight of Moons by @rizlowwritessortof
Colors & Moodboard: Green, Brown, Gold đđ€đ
Man Eater by @keircat7
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate an odd case of "animal" attacks in Chicago.
Colors & Moodboard: Purple, Silver, Black đđ©¶đ€
Glitter and Ashes by @ambiguous-avery
Summary: Dean finds you during a hunt gone sideways. He expects a demon or a curse. Not an angel with tear-stained cheeks and whoâs given up on humanity. You donât think thereâs anything left to save. But Dean thinks otherwise.
Colors & Moodboard: Purple, Silver, Black đđ©¶đ€
once upon a dream by @wvffles
Summary: what do you get when you combine a pesky trickster, the most handsome mystery man you've ever seen, and a hotel on the beach? a massive headache.
Colors & Moodboard: Blue, White, Beige đđ€đ€
Lucky Cat by @jollyhunter
Summary: Dean really didn't want to pull you back into this job, but with Sam's 'soul' problem, he's left with no other choice but to ask you for help. Unfortunately, as always, he will regret that decision.
Colors & Moodboard: Black, Green, Gold đ€đđ
Piece of my Heart by @copperboom82
Summary: When Sam's sick and Dean comes across a case, he's got no choice but to work it with Lainey, despite the fact that, these days, they barely seem to tolerate each other under the best of circumstances
Colors & Moodboard: Rosegold, Black, Mint đ©·đ€đ©”
Lilac, White, Grey by @maraudersoup
Summary: One of the first things Cas learned about humanity was that it was a grotty, painful thing. It made its own cage to pace in, gnawed relentlessly at the bars, grinding its teeth and howling against the winds of life until it simmered down and faded over the course of seventy-odd years. It was hardly a life, the other angels had all agreed. Cas had agreed too.
Colors & Moodboard: Lilac, White, Grey đđ€đ©¶
The Atlantic Border by @hiighlighterr
Summary: There were some things they didnât tell you when they asked you to be a vessel. The first thing Jimmy realized was he hadnât known what heâd lose. Heâd been promised the safety of his family while he took a backseat, but his image of what that would look like was warped. It was wrong.
Colors & Moodboard: Black, Blue, White đ€đđ€
#chevroletdean's 500#reading rec#dean winchester#supernatural#dean winchester x reader#mooadboard challenge#lovely moots đ#amazing writers
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Absolutely loved every second of this Alex đđ
Itâs been a while since iâve seen a professor!Dean fic and the man does something to međźâđš I mean look at him! đ
đđ»i feel like this era of him especially screams professor!Dean to me đ€
But i feel like you captured him so well, i get what you mean about itâs tough to fit him into a role like that, but you made it work! He would totally be that laid back fun teacher everyone loves (not just for the looks) lol
And then the whole train sequence đ gahh i hate guys like that, the pushy over confident dweebs who think itâs charming to be overbearing and just plain creepy and rude!
I also love that Dean let her handle it up until it got potentially unsafe. Unfortunately women face this a lot and her looking more strong, not having a guy stick up for her straight away can speak volumes. But iâm glad he was a gentleman and walked her home even, i got the eebie jeebies from that jerk following her home or something đ”âđ«
And then the chemistry!! đ theyâre adorable, and so sweet. Like him turning up at the very play she suggested a while ago (even though heâs not big on âem)
Heâs IN LOVE dammit!! đđ
Gahh this was amazing Alex!!! And if you are adding more to this, i am so there! đđ
10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader
Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.
AN: Hereâs a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but weâre still flirting with a gray area here lol.
Word Count: 4K
Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)
The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.
To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.
This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Nightâs Dream.
You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave inâŠ
You checked the time on your phoneâten minutes to midnightâand compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.
Shit! One minute?!
You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.
A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.
âProfessor?â you said, breathless and shocked.
He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.
âYou okay?â he asked.
You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.
âHere, sit down,â he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.
And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.
Professor Dean Winchester.
He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldnât believe you ran right into him!
But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).
âOh, youâŠyou saw the play too?â you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. Youâd told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.
Heâd admitted that heâd never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said heâd look into it. You didnât think he was actually taking you seriously though.
âUh, yeah, I did. Iâve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,â he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.
You couldnât help but smile too every time you noticed thatâŠeven though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.
Clearly heâd dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, youâd asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. Heâd told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.
âSo whatâd you think?â you asked. âWerenât the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the âforest,â and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.â
He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. âYeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.â
âOh, incredible. That was the best Bottom Iâve ever seen.â You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. âWell, the character. Not the assâdonkeyâwhatever. You know what I mean.â
The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.
âCanât argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,â he smirked.
Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. Youâd heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one dayâa full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.
âBut really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,â you said. âHelena was my favorite.â
He raised his dark brows. âReally? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?â
That was another thing. He didnât really talk like any professor youâd met in your life. You let out a snort.
âI donât want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,â you explained. âThereâs nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesnât even see you, you know?â
He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.
âIn her mind, sheâs probably thinking, âWell, even if heâs yelling at me, at least heâs acknowledging I exist,ââ you said, âwhich is incredibly sad and isnât giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but itâs a reality that some women go through.â
After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.
âThatâs fair,â he said, arching a brow. âThough I gotta hope you donât let any guy talk to you like that.â
You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.
âHow about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,â he said. âIâm Brady, by the way.â
That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.
âAh, you know what, Iâm good with just my phoneâŠplease.â
This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didnât know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.
You held out your hand expectantly, but still, âBradyâ didnât take the hint.
âAw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?â he asked.
âOh my God. Are you fucking serious?â You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. âYes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.â
âHmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?â
âJesus Christ, dude.â
âHey, Iâm just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,â he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.
âHey,â a deep voice cut in.Â
You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that youâd never seen on him before.
âGive her the damn phone,â said the professor. His tone boded no argument.
Still, Brady pushed his luck.
âWhat, you her boyfriend or something?â
The professor didnât bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.
Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didnât want this version of Midnight on the Orient Expressâthe kind that ended up on the 6 oâclock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professorâs hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.
âWalk away,â he said.
To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a âfuck you, bro,â and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.
âThank you,â you said quietly.
âIs this your stop?â he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.
You nodded, biting your lip.
âOkay, come on,â the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.
âThank you,â you said again. âReally, you didnât have to miss your exit for me.â
âDonât worry about it,â Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. âIâll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.â Â
Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you werenât that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasnât a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.
He had no other motive than that, howeverâŠ
Heâd been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.
It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldnât help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.
A deep, full-bodied red.
It was a familiar shade. Youâd worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshiftersâthose long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much heâd actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.
He also knew you were getting a masterâs degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. Youâd actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.
âSorry, sir, I know itâs early. Iâve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.â
Heâd shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)
The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.
âYou like mythology that much, huh?â Dean asked.
âOh, yeah!â you said, as your eyes lit up. âI find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe itâs technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or itâs the same creature, different backstory. Itâs like any novel Iâve ever readâsimilar tropes, but the style, the packaging. Thatâs what becomes new and creative.â
Amusement tugged at Deanâs lips.
âSame candy, different wrapper, right?â he offered. His reward was your bright smile.
âYeah, exactly.â
Heâd approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you werenât just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuffâŠand it mirrored his own.
âSo, uh, you liked that play, huh?â he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.
But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.
âOh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeareâs sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.â All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.
Deanâs remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.
âOh, yeah? Like what?â he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.
You didnât disappoint.
âWell, thereâs the famous Lysander line, âThe course of true love never did run smooth,ââ you said, âbut thatâs not even my favorite. Thatâs boring. Thatâs every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to Heâs Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.â
Dean had to interject. âYou watch a lot of chick-flicks, donât you?â
Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.
âLike I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, sheâs pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims heâs in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, heâs like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?â you said.
âOh, very much agree. You want some coffee?â Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.
âUh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,â you said. But you didnât let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.
Your brows furrowed. âOh! I meant to pay for my partââ
âDonât worry about it. Here, take half,â Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.
Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.
âBut then she says, âLove can transpose to form and dignity.â It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriendâs essays for a whole year because I didnât want him to fail English, and letâs face it, he could barely spell his own last name.â
âYikes,â Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guyâs future.
âRight? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.â You rolled your eyes, accepting Deanâs sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all youâd given to that guy was your time.
"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you right," he said.
You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.
"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."
Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.
âSo anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,â you said. ââLove looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.ââ
In that moment, Deanâs eyes were a little too captivated.
But you broke the spell.
You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.
âAnd thatâs why Cupidâs always painted like a blind babyâŠor something like that,â you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long youâd been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.
âSorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I canât really stop unless someone stops me and tells me Iâm literally killing them with words that donât make sense.â
âYouâre making a whole lotta sense to me,â Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. âLove looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.â
Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.
âWell, did you like the play?â you asked, smiling in embarrassment. âSorry, canât remember if I even asked you that yet.â
He laughed softly. Even if you had, he didnât mind answering again.
âI like it more now, hearing you talk about it,â he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. âIt makes sense, since youâre an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. Iâm really glad you decided to take my class this semester.â
You demured further at the praise. âOh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, butâŠthatâs because youâre the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.â
Dean smiled in amusement, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.
âWell, thank you. Glad to hear at least one personâs getting something out of it,â he said, his smile warming for once.
You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. âAll right well, thanks again for walking me home. Iâll, umâŠsee you on Monday-ayy!â
You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Deanâspecifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.
He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mindâs eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.
Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, butâŠcontemplating.
Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.
âGod, Iâm sorry!â you breathed.
âDonât worry about it.â He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. âYou all right?â
âYeah. Yeah, umâŠTake Two,â you said, laughing weakly.
You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldnât stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.
âYou okay?â he asked again.
You nodded. âYeah, I just, umâŠyou know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!â
Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didnât leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldnât leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like youâd been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonderâŠ
Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?
But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.
Didnât stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. Sheâs barely pushing fifty while heâs halfway into Senior Depends.
Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11âkind of a problem.
You were a student.
Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.
In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Heraâs garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.
As in, forbidden fruit.
What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?
Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.
But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.
He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.
You didnât even see him that wayâŠdid you?
You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.
Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.
How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches andâŠ
You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.
It didnât matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was âage appropriate,â he was still your professor. You couldnât think about him like that.
And he absolutely didnât look at you like thatâŠ
Did he?
AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. đ I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! â€ïž
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Aww tysm lovely. Iâm glad you liked it đ„čđ
A Dangerous Love
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Sam's POV of yours and Dean's relationship.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings/tags: Implied smut, angst, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, poor Sammy! Dean being his typical over protective self, both of them are stubborn.
AN: Hey guys, I know I've been MIA for a lil while, but I'm doing okay, still getting there, although this isn't a full return, I just wanted to pop on and give you guys a little something, as well as catch up on some reading now I have a minute đ
. This was sitting in my drafts and finally touched it up. I tried something little different with It being from Sam's POV. But I enjoyed this one and I hope you guys do too! â€ïž
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They were fighting again.
Sam didnât even flinch. He barely glanced up from his laptop as the sharp words echoed through the paper-thin motel wallsâvoices rising, footsteps pounding, another inevitable blowout brewing like a summer storm.
âYou canât just run in like that!â
âI had it handled!â
âNo, you almost got yourself killed!â
âIâm not a child, Dean! I know what Iâm doing!â
âWell, you couldâve fooled me with the way you acted tonight!â
Sam sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Heâd heard this fight a hundred timesâprobably more. Same argument, different hunt. Dean being overprotective, you pushing back, neither of you knowing when to shut up.
Then came the inevitableâ
âGo to hell!â
âAlready been, sweetheart.â
Sam winced a second before a door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls. Right on cue, his own door flew open, and in stormed Deanâstill fuming, chest heaving, hands clenched at his sides, his face flushed with frustration.
Sam didnât look up. Heâd learned his lesson. Playing mediator between you two was about as effective as standing between two charging bulls. So, he kept his eyes locked on his screen, feigning deep concentration on the case he was researching.
A small town in Lincoln, Nebraska. Three bodies in a week, hearts missing. Probably a werewolf. Maybe a Rugaru. Definitely not as terrifying as the emotional carnage currently unraveling in the room.
Dean stalked back and forth like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair. âUnbelievable,â he muttered, mostly to himself.
Sam made the mistake of humming in vague agreement. That was all the opening Dean needed.
âRight? I mean, she justâshe just goes in, no backup, no plan, like sheâs got a damn death wish.â
Sam finally looked at his brother, eyebrows raised. âYou mean like you do? All the time?â
Dean scowled. âThatâs different.â
Sam snorted. âOh, is it?â
But Dean ignored him, too deep in his rant to acknowledge logic.
âShe doesnât listen. Ever. I tell her to stay back, and what does she do? Runs straight into danger like sheâs got something to prove.â
From the other side of the wall came a muffled, but unmistakably pissed-off voice: âI can hear you, jackass!â
Dean didnât even hesitate. âGood!â
Sam sighed, long and suffering, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was his life. Not just the near-death experiences, not just the monsters and the ghostsâno, this. Being caught between his stubborn brother and his brotherâs equally stubborn, equally reckless, equally loud girlfriend.
Dean, still grumbling to himself, flopped onto the opposite bed and crossed his arms like an angry child. Sam wisely said nothing. He knew the drillâDean would rant, stew for a while, and eventually, in a few daysâ
Wait... Scratch that.Â
A few hours later, Sam was rudely jolted awake by a very different kind of disturbance.
Something rhythmic. Repetitive. Suspiciously⊠breathy.
At first, his sleep-fogged brain struggled to make sense of it. A fight? Noâtoo much giggling between the groans.
And thenâ
Oh. Oh, no.
Realisation hit like a freight train at full speed and his stomach churned.
The unmistakable sound of a headboard knocking against the wall. The low, hushed moans. And worst of allâ
âOh, God, Deanââ
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Sam groaned, grabbed his pillow, and smothered his own face with it like he could suffocate the memories before they fully formed. How could he forget about the damn make-up sex? He shouldâve known when Dean left the room and didnât return that this is what would come of it.Â
Burying himself deeper under the blanket, he contemplated driving to another damn state. Maybe exorcising himself. Was there a ritual for that? A way to erase the mental scarring?
Eventually, after a painfully long time, blissful silence returned, and with it, the symbolic, albeit fragile, truce between you and Dean.
The next morning, Sam nursed his coffee like a war veteran as he sat in the outdated diner, watching the two of you with equal parts fascination and whiplash.
You were nestled beside Dean on the other side of the booth, stealing bites of his pancakes with a smug grin.
Deanâwho, under normal circumstances, would stab a man with a fork for even looking at his foodâjust smirked, all stupid heart eyes, letting you get away with it like you were some divine exception to the rule.
Sam squinted. Not even twenty-four hours ago, you two were about five seconds away from an actual homicide.
Now? Now, you were practically glowing, exchanging touches, finishing each otherâs sentences, giggling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a CW drama.
Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
Every relationship expert on the planet would call this toxic. Hell, if he described it to anyoneâthe explosive fights, the impossible stubbornness, the complete disregard for self-preservation when it came to each otherâtheyâd probably diagnose you both with something and slap you with a warning label.
But for as long as he could rememberâeven before you and Dean finally got togetherâit had always been like this. Back when you were just a couple of reckless teenagers, trading jabs and daring each other into stupid, dangerous situations. Before things got complicated with feelings and labels.
You and Dean were like flint and steelâconstantly striking, constantly sparking, burning hotter than anything Sam had ever seen.
But the fire never went out.
It should have. By all logic, it should have burned itself to the ground a dozen times over. But instead, it just kept going, somehow forging you both into something stronger.
It was chaos. It was infuriating.
And, honestly? It was kind of impressive.
Even if it made Samâs head want to implode.
But then there were moments that tore away all the noise, stripped everything down to the bare bones of what you and Dean truly were. Moments that left no room for doubt.
Because when it came down to itâwhen it really matteredâthe two of you didnât just care. Didnât just love each other. You were willing to bleed for one another, break for the other, burn the whole damn world down if you had to.
And tonight? Tonight just proved that.
The hunt was supposed to be routineâget in, take care of the pack, get out. But the damn werewolves were faster, stronger. They had numbers. And somewhere between the chaos and the fighting, you made a split-second decision.
You saved Deanâs life. And you nearly lost your own in the process.
Dean caught you before you hit the ground. One second you were standing, the next you were collapsing, blood soaking through your shirt, pooling between his fingers as he pressed down hard against the gash in your side.
âNoâno, no, no,â Deanâs voice was hoarse, raw with panic. âYou're okay. I got you.â
Sam barely had time to react before Deanâs head snapped up, his eyes wild, desperate.
âSam! Get the car!â
Sam was already moving, sprinting for the Impala as Dean held you against him, his flannel already stripped from his shoulders and bunched against your wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
âYouâre gonna be okay, sweetheart,â Dean murmured, his grip unrelenting. His fingers trembled against your skin, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. âJust hang on. I got you.â
Sam skidded to a stop beside the car, yanking the door open. He turned back just in time to see Dean lifting you into his arms, his expression twisted in barely contained panic.
Sam didnât miss the way his brother held youânot just with urgency, but with a kind of care that made his chest ache.
He helped ease you into the back seat with Dean, still pressing the flannel to your side. His voice was shaking, but his grip was steady.
"Step on it, Sammy.â
Sam didnât argue. The second he was behind the wheel, he floored it, tires screeching against the asphalt.
The drive was a blur of traffic violations, but because it was nearing midnight, the roads were practically empty, making up for the reckless driving. The city flashed by in streaks of yellow and white, and in the rearview mirror, Sam could see Dean cradling you against him, his forehead nearly pressed to yours as he whispered every reassurance he could think of.
"Stay with me, sweetheart.â
"Youâre okay.â
âI swear to God, youâre gonna be okay.â
But Sam heard the crack in his brotherâs voice. Saw the way his hands were shaking. Dean wasnât just worried. He was terrified.
By the time they crashed through the ER doors, shouting for help, Dean was covered in your blood.
The nurses barely had time to react before Dean was snapping at them to hurry, his voice sharp, desperate. And then you were goneâwhisked away behind double doors, leaving Dean standing there, breathing hard, fists clenched, and your blood staining his hands.
Then came the waiting.
Dean couldnât sit still. He paced the hospital waiting room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair over and over, jaw tight, eyes darting to every single doctor or nurse that walked by. Â
The agitation built inside him like a pressure valve ready to burst, as Sam sat nearby, watching his brother unravel, feeling helpless.
"What the hell is taking so long?" he growled, throwing his arms up in frustration as his gaze stayed trained on the double doors they had wheeled you through. Â
Sam let out a quiet sigh. He was just as worried, but kicking and screaming wasnât going to make time move faster. âTheyâre doing everything they can, man. You have to let them do their job.â Â
Dean clenched his jaw, his entire body rigid with anxiety, and Sam could see the cracks forming in his brotherâs usual composure. Deannwas a lot of thingsâfearless, reckless, stubborn as hellâbut right now? Right now, he just looked scared.
When the doctor finally approached them, Dean nearly jumped down his throat. Â
"How is she? Is she okay?"
âShe lost a lot of blood,â the doctor said. âBut weâve managed to stabilize her. She needs plenty of rest, and weâll have to monitor her overnight and go from there.â Â
Sam let out a breath of relief. But DeanâDeanâs shoulders sagged, his lips pressing into a thin line as something unreadable passed through his expression. Â
They had lied, of course. Told the doctors youâd been attacked by a bear because ââyeah, doc, she got slashed by a goddamn werewolfâ â wouldâve landed them in padded cells. Thankfully, the doctors didnât ask too many questions.
When they were finally allowed to see you, Sam watched as Dean crumbled at the sight of you lying in that hospital bed. Â
You looked so small. So fragile. The machines beeped steadily beside you, an IV hooked up to your arm, your face pale from the blood loss. It made even Samâs heart twinge painfully to see you this way. You were not only his brotherâs girlfriend. You were his best friend. His sister.
Dean approached cautiously, like he was afraid youâd disappear if he got too close. Then, without a word, he sat beside you and grasped your hand, his fingers brushing over your knuckles with a gentleness that didnât match the man who had just been almost punching walls in the waiting room. Â
His throat bobbed. Then, wordlessly, he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering there as he exhaled shakily.
"You scared the hell outta me," he muttered, his voice thick, raw. âYouâre gonna pull through this, you hear me?â
He swallowed hard, then softer, more brokenâ "cause' I can't lose you."
Sam swallowed hard against his own emotions. He knew this wasnât just about saving you anymore. It was about Dean confronting the most terrifying thing he could ever imagineâthe thought of losing you. And for a man like Dean, who was constantly worrying about this very thing, you'd think he'd be somewhat prepared for the real thing. Evidently not. It was crushing, breaking him into a thousand pieces.
Sam wasnât sure how long he stood there, watching the way Deanâs thumb traced gentle circles against your skin, but he saw the anger rise, predictable from his brother's guilt and fear as it continued to chip away at him the longer he looked at you.Â
âDammit, Y/N. Why didnât you listen to me? Iââ Deanâs breath hitched, and for a moment, he just closed his eyes, like he was trying to pull himself together. Â
And then, as if on cue, you stirred. Your fingers twitched in his grasp, your eyelids fluttering, and Dean went stillâhis breath caught, his entire body frozen as he waited.
Slowly, your eyes opened, hazy with exhaustion and pain, but when they focused on him, you still managed a weak, lopsided smile.
"Worth it.â you murmured, voice hoarse. Â
Dean closed his eyes like he wanted to strangle you and kiss you at the same time, because of course youâd have a comeback, even on the brink of death.
Sam huffed a small, teary laugh, shaking his head.
Because this was the two of you. Always on the brink of disaster. Always throwing yourselves in front of danger for each other. Always driving each other insane.
It was a deep love. A dangerous love.
But it was real.
And it was true.

AN: What started off as a Drabble, became a one shot lol. I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was fun to do. đđ Also I am still working on part 2 of In The End , I'm sorry for the delay guys đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#spn#spn fanfic#sam winchester#jensen ackles#spnfamily#lovely readers
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Aww thank you both đ„č @maddie0101 & @ambiguous-avery youâre both so immensely talented and iâm so glad i get the pleasure of reading your work đ
I read so many fics by so many talented peeps and just bravo to you all đđ» and sorry if i miss anyone, itâs either because i havenât read your work yet or my aging brain đ
@bettystonewell @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @jollyhunter @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @kittenofdoomage @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy @wendichester @deanwritings @bejeweledinterludes @middleearthislife @my-stories-vault @jackles010378 @titsout4jackles + many more đ
And a thank you to all of you readers out there who keep up our spirits đ€đ
reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them
#writer appreciation#i love my moots#talented brilliant incredible amazing show stopping spectacular never the same totally unique
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Haha people always seem to find my (smuttier) fics during the worst/inconvenient points in their real lives and iâm here like oops, sorry đ
But also feel you on the shitty job front đ«
He is a dream tho right? đźâđš i feel like one night, even in rebound form, would be unforgettable đ€đ
Thank you for reading lovely đđđ
âMr Right Nowâ
(Source)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings/tags: Implied Smut (18+), swearing, fluff, one night stand... kinda, mentions of cheating
A/N: Entirely based on this lil clip right here đđ»đ, however this will be from the readerâs POV in the beginning and perhaps a lil' insight into Deanâs funny walk đđ€Ł
Main Masterlist

Valentineâs Day.
Itâs supposed to be your favourite night to work. Singles Night always brings in a good crowd, fun music, and flirty banter that makes your shift fly by. But tonight?
Tonight, you want to crawl under the bar and disappear.
Six months ago, your ex â Travis â said you were âpressuringâ him when you asked if heâd ever thought about marriage or kids. After three years together, you figured it wasnât a crazy question. But the truth came out not long after: heâd been sleeping with your downstairs neighbour. Class act, right?
And today? You found out he just proposed to her.
Yeah. Happy freakinâ Valentineâs Day.
So yeah, youâre bitter. And tired. And trying not to punch the next person who asks for a âLove Me Long Timeâ shot with a wink.
You were mid-pour when you noticed him. Dean. That rugged, flirty regular who always nursed his whiskey like he had secrets too heavy to say out loud. Itâd been a while since he last came in â his job took him all over, heâd once vaguely mentioned. Never said much more.
But tonight, he looked good. That usual cocky smirk in place, dark flannel and jeans and those green eyes doing their usual scan of the room before settling on me.
âHey, stranger,â you say, once you finished up with your customer, managing a warm smile.
âHere to scope out the sea of desperation?â You teased. And Dean grinned, shaking his head.
You knew he played the field, usually always leaving with a woman on his arm. And a day like today must be like hitting the jackpot for him. You didnât judge him for it though, these ladies knew what they were getting into.
âThat obvious, huh?â he chuckles, his eyes already making their familiar appreciative sweep over you. Heâd aimed and missed with you once before â back when you were still with âhe-who-shall-not-be-named.â But he respected the boundary, and you appreciated that. Now, though⊠you find yourself not minding if he looks.
âI mean, if you want to feed yourself to the piranhas, who am I to stop you.â You winked and then poured his usual - double whiskey, neat.Â
âIâm surprised youâre working tonight,â he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. âThought youâd be spending Valentineâs with⊠whatâs his name again? Trevor? Tyrone?â
âTravis,â you correct, unable to keep the disgust from your voice. The name tastes like poison now.
Dean notices. Raises a brow. âTrouble in paradise?â
âTry dumping me after three years because I had the audacity to ask about our future,â you say with a tight smile. âTurns out, it wasnât because I was pressuring him â it was because he was screwing the twenty-four-year-old downstairs.â
âNo shit.â Dean blows out a breath, brows raised.
âShit. And get this.â You lean in like youâre telling him the worldâs dirtiest secret. âI found out today, of all damn days, the asshole proposed to her.â
You let out a bitter laugh. Dean just shakes his head.
âWhat a douchebag,â he mutters, voice rough with genuine annoyance on your behalf.
âJust feels like such a giant waste of time, you know.â you sigh, glancing out at the dance floor where the lonely and the bold are coupling off, laughing, swaying, kissing. All of them looking far less wrecked than you feel.
Then Rachel â your co-bartender and part-time devil on your shoulder â slides in beside you, muttering with a smirk, âWell, you know what they say⊠Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.â
She nods toward Dean before spinning off to help another customer. Subtle as ever.
âSheâs not wrong,â Dean says, that glint in his eye turning mischievous.
You raise a brow, curious. âWhat, are you offering?â
âI wasnât not offering,â he replies smoothly.
Your pulse skips.
The tension between you two has always been there â a low simmer under the surface. Banter. Glances. But you were off-limits. Now?
Now youâre single. And hurting. And Deanâs looking at you like heâs more than willing to be your rebound.
âIâm off in an hour,â you say, leaning across the bar just enough to let him see the smirk tugging at your lips. âThink youâll survive?â
Deanâs grin is slow, sinful. âOh, sweetheart. Iâve been waiting for the last year. Whatâs sixty more minutes?â
An hour later, Deanâs on your couch, thick thighs spread, watching you strip off your jacket with hooded eyes.
You straddle his lap, fingers sliding through his hair as you kiss him. Itâs rough, desperate, unlike anything youâve ever experienced. His hands grip your waist, pull you flush against him, and you moan into his mouth.
âMy ex,â you whisper against his lips, âused to call me a sex freak.â
Dean tilts his head, grinning. âYeah? Sounds like the douchebag couldnât keep up.â
You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard beneath you. âSaid I was too much.â
âSweetheart,â he growls, voice low and thick, âI like too much.â
Your clothes hit the floor in a trail of chaos. You barely make it to the bedroom before heâs pushing you against the wall, kissing you like a man starved. Somewhere between the laughter and the gasps, you tie his wrists to the headboard with your scarf.
His eyes go wide. âOh, you are wild.â
You just smile. âStill game?â
Dean huffs a laugh, already breathless. âHell yes.â
And he is. Game for all of it. For your hands, your mouth, the way you ride him like youâve got something to prove â maybe to yourself, maybe to him. He lets you take control, lets you wreck him, and when he finally comes undone beneath you, sweaty and flushed and utterly ruined, he lets out a hoarse, âFuck... Iâm gonna feel that for a week.â
You collapse next to him, laughing into the curve of his shoulder.
âWant me to kiss it better?â
He turns his head, kisses you slow and sweet. âI think now itâs my turn, sweetheart.âÂ
And before you can reply, heâs rolling you beneath him, dragging you into round two with a look that says heâs nowhere near done.
When you wake the next morning, deliciously sore in all the best ways, you turn to find Dean still there, tangled in your sheets, a lazy arm draped over your waist. You smile and appreciate his beauty for a minute and wonder why you hadnât just fucked Travis off sooner and took up Deanâs offer, because holy shit that was probably the best sex youâd ever had.Â
Dean seems to notice your staring and hums as he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, then your neck, all the way up until heâs claiming your lips once more.Â
You sigh happily into it and as he shifts closer and he groans. âDamn, sweetheart. You really did a number on me.â He chuckles and drops his head to your shoulder.
You giggle beneath him, but bite your lip a little insecure. âToo much?â
He seems to notice your apprehension and lifts his head, his grin is lopsided as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âNever too much. Iâll take the limp proudly.â
The two of you burst out into laughter and then spend another 20 minutes sharing a few more lazy kisses before he finally vacates your apartment, leaving you with one last long, lingering kiss at the door and a promise of a repeat.
Back at the bunker, Dean limps into the kitchen like heâs been hit by a truck, wincing with every step. He makes a beeline for the fridge, yanks it open, and grabs a questionable takeout container like a man on the edge.
Sam glances up from his laptop, frowns. âIs that a hickey?â
Dean pops the lid, scoops a bite of rice into his mouth and immediately spits it out, not caring if half of it ends up on the floor. He was too hungover for this.
He sets down the container and shuffles toward the coffee pot like itâs holy salvation. Thank God Samâs an early riser.
âAnd?â Dean grunts. âIt was Valentineâs Day. Canât help it if Iâm a hopeless romantic.â
âYou got half of that right,â Sam mutters, not looking up.
Dean smirks. âJust doing my civic duty. Helping a recently single lady rediscover her joy.â
âSo⊠you were the rebound?â
Dean rolls his eyes. âYou know the best thing about February fourteenth? You donât have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now, and if that means in the rebounding sense? Who cares? I still got laid.â
Sam scoffs. âClassy.â
Dean huffs, tired of the third degree. âYeah? What did you do, judgy? Curl up in a snuggy, watch fifty shades on cable?âÂ
âYeah. No.â Sam huffs humourlessly.
Meanwhile, Dean sips his coffee, eyes unfocused as his mind wanders back to the scratch of your nails down his back, the gasp you made when he kissed that spot behind your knee, the way your voice broke when you said his name.
Yeah. He thinks.
Best. Night. Ever.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was a fun little experiment and just what my brain conjured up watching this clip lol đ I don't know about you guys, but Dean could happily be my rebound đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x you#dean winchester x female reader#dean winchester smut#spn#spn fanfic#dean winchester fic#lovely moots
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Tysm @toadspondofwhimsy i love your tastes đ
Dance with me - blink-182
No one does it better - You me at six
Sun Queen - Gerry Cinnamon
Ooh ahh (my life be like) - Grits
Pacifier - Catfish and the bottlemen
Forget me too - MGK
No pressure tags: @chevroletdean @jollyhunter @bejeweledinterludes @bettystonewell @ambiguous-avery @beakaleak32 @zepskies @waynes-multiverse + anyone else đ
tysm @thebitterbeanjuice for the tag! The chain was kinda long so I started a new one

gekka no yasoukyoku by malice mizer
beast and the harlot by avenged sevenfold (honestly hell yeah)
join me by him
dive in by pierce the veil
demolition lovers by mcr (goddamn this wants me dead huhđ)
falling on deaf ears by hail the sun
a lot of these are pretty fitting tbh very cool tho!!
@undead-vamp @doctorbrightside @er0gutz @therealaxlrose @aresissad @d3l-t4co @m1lkywaymikey @stupidlanie @fawn-ehehehehehe @the-fabulous-killjoy @glxybld-mustdie and anyone else!
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Aww thank you lovely đ„č i feel honoured truly đ It was a really fun one to do đ€
âMr Right Nowâ
(Source)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings/tags: Implied Smut (18+), swearing, fluff, one night stand... kinda, mentions of cheating
A/N: Entirely based on this lil clip right here đđ»đ, however this will be from the readerâs POV in the beginning and perhaps a lil' insight into Deanâs funny walk đđ€Ł
Main Masterlist

Valentineâs Day.
Itâs supposed to be your favourite night to work. Singles Night always brings in a good crowd, fun music, and flirty banter that makes your shift fly by. But tonight?
Tonight, you want to crawl under the bar and disappear.
Six months ago, your ex â Travis â said you were âpressuringâ him when you asked if heâd ever thought about marriage or kids. After three years together, you figured it wasnât a crazy question. But the truth came out not long after: heâd been sleeping with your downstairs neighbour. Class act, right?
And today? You found out he just proposed to her.
Yeah. Happy freakinâ Valentineâs Day.
So yeah, youâre bitter. And tired. And trying not to punch the next person who asks for a âLove Me Long Timeâ shot with a wink.
You were mid-pour when you noticed him. Dean. That rugged, flirty regular who always nursed his whiskey like he had secrets too heavy to say out loud. Itâd been a while since he last came in â his job took him all over, heâd once vaguely mentioned. Never said much more.
But tonight, he looked good. That usual cocky smirk in place, dark flannel and jeans and those green eyes doing their usual scan of the room before settling on me.
âHey, stranger,â you say, once you finished up with your customer, managing a warm smile.
âHere to scope out the sea of desperation?â You teased. And Dean grinned, shaking his head.
You knew he played the field, usually always leaving with a woman on his arm. And a day like today must be like hitting the jackpot for him. You didnât judge him for it though, these ladies knew what they were getting into.
âThat obvious, huh?â he chuckles, his eyes already making their familiar appreciative sweep over you. Heâd aimed and missed with you once before â back when you were still with âhe-who-shall-not-be-named.â But he respected the boundary, and you appreciated that. Now, though⊠you find yourself not minding if he looks.
âI mean, if you want to feed yourself to the piranhas, who am I to stop you.â You winked and then poured his usual - double whiskey, neat.Â
âIâm surprised youâre working tonight,â he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. âThought youâd be spending Valentineâs with⊠whatâs his name again? Trevor? Tyrone?â
âTravis,â you correct, unable to keep the disgust from your voice. The name tastes like poison now.
Dean notices. Raises a brow. âTrouble in paradise?â
âTry dumping me after three years because I had the audacity to ask about our future,â you say with a tight smile. âTurns out, it wasnât because I was pressuring him â it was because he was screwing the twenty-four-year-old downstairs.â
âNo shit.â Dean blows out a breath, brows raised.
âShit. And get this.â You lean in like youâre telling him the worldâs dirtiest secret. âI found out today, of all damn days, the asshole proposed to her.â
You let out a bitter laugh. Dean just shakes his head.
âWhat a douchebag,â he mutters, voice rough with genuine annoyance on your behalf.
âJust feels like such a giant waste of time, you know.â you sigh, glancing out at the dance floor where the lonely and the bold are coupling off, laughing, swaying, kissing. All of them looking far less wrecked than you feel.
Then Rachel â your co-bartender and part-time devil on your shoulder â slides in beside you, muttering with a smirk, âWell, you know what they say⊠Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.â
She nods toward Dean before spinning off to help another customer. Subtle as ever.
âSheâs not wrong,â Dean says, that glint in his eye turning mischievous.
You raise a brow, curious. âWhat, are you offering?â
âI wasnât not offering,â he replies smoothly.
Your pulse skips.
The tension between you two has always been there â a low simmer under the surface. Banter. Glances. But you were off-limits. Now?
Now youâre single. And hurting. And Deanâs looking at you like heâs more than willing to be your rebound.
âIâm off in an hour,â you say, leaning across the bar just enough to let him see the smirk tugging at your lips. âThink youâll survive?â
Deanâs grin is slow, sinful. âOh, sweetheart. Iâve been waiting for the last year. Whatâs sixty more minutes?â
An hour later, Deanâs on your couch, thick thighs spread, watching you strip off your jacket with hooded eyes.
You straddle his lap, fingers sliding through his hair as you kiss him. Itâs rough, desperate, unlike anything youâve ever experienced. His hands grip your waist, pull you flush against him, and you moan into his mouth.
âMy ex,â you whisper against his lips, âused to call me a sex freak.â
Dean tilts his head, grinning. âYeah? Sounds like the douchebag couldnât keep up.â
You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard beneath you. âSaid I was too much.â
âSweetheart,â he growls, voice low and thick, âI like too much.â
Your clothes hit the floor in a trail of chaos. You barely make it to the bedroom before heâs pushing you against the wall, kissing you like a man starved. Somewhere between the laughter and the gasps, you tie his wrists to the headboard with your scarf.
His eyes go wide. âOh, you are wild.â
You just smile. âStill game?â
Dean huffs a laugh, already breathless. âHell yes.â
And he is. Game for all of it. For your hands, your mouth, the way you ride him like youâve got something to prove â maybe to yourself, maybe to him. He lets you take control, lets you wreck him, and when he finally comes undone beneath you, sweaty and flushed and utterly ruined, he lets out a hoarse, âFuck... Iâm gonna feel that for a week.â
You collapse next to him, laughing into the curve of his shoulder.
âWant me to kiss it better?â
He turns his head, kisses you slow and sweet. âI think now itâs my turn, sweetheart.âÂ
And before you can reply, heâs rolling you beneath him, dragging you into round two with a look that says heâs nowhere near done.
When you wake the next morning, deliciously sore in all the best ways, you turn to find Dean still there, tangled in your sheets, a lazy arm draped over your waist. You smile and appreciate his beauty for a minute and wonder why you hadnât just fucked Travis off sooner and took up Deanâs offer, because holy shit that was probably the best sex youâd ever had.Â
Dean seems to notice your staring and hums as he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, then your neck, all the way up until heâs claiming your lips once more.Â
You sigh happily into it and as he shifts closer and he groans. âDamn, sweetheart. You really did a number on me.â He chuckles and drops his head to your shoulder.
You giggle beneath him, but bite your lip a little insecure. âToo much?â
He seems to notice your apprehension and lifts his head, his grin is lopsided as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âNever too much. Iâll take the limp proudly.â
The two of you burst out into laughter and then spend another 20 minutes sharing a few more lazy kisses before he finally vacates your apartment, leaving you with one last long, lingering kiss at the door and a promise of a repeat.
Back at the bunker, Dean limps into the kitchen like heâs been hit by a truck, wincing with every step. He makes a beeline for the fridge, yanks it open, and grabs a questionable takeout container like a man on the edge.
Sam glances up from his laptop, frowns. âIs that a hickey?â
Dean pops the lid, scoops a bite of rice into his mouth and immediately spits it out, not caring if half of it ends up on the floor. He was too hungover for this.
He sets down the container and shuffles toward the coffee pot like itâs holy salvation. Thank God Samâs an early riser.
âAnd?â Dean grunts. âIt was Valentineâs Day. Canât help it if Iâm a hopeless romantic.â
âYou got half of that right,â Sam mutters, not looking up.
Dean smirks. âJust doing my civic duty. Helping a recently single lady rediscover her joy.â
âSo⊠you were the rebound?â
Dean rolls his eyes. âYou know the best thing about February fourteenth? You donât have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now, and if that means in the rebounding sense? Who cares? I still got laid.â
Sam scoffs. âClassy.â
Dean huffs, tired of the third degree. âYeah? What did you do, judgy? Curl up in a snuggy, watch fifty shades on cable?âÂ
âYeah. No.â Sam huffs humourlessly.
Meanwhile, Dean sips his coffee, eyes unfocused as his mind wanders back to the scratch of your nails down his back, the gasp you made when he kissed that spot behind your knee, the way your voice broke when you said his name.
Yeah. He thinks.
Best. Night. Ever.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was a fun little experiment and just what my brain conjured up watching this clip lol đ I don't know about you guys, but Dean could happily be my rebound đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female reader#dean x you#spn#spn fanfic#dean winchester fic#lovely mutuals
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Aww tysm Faith đ„č iâm glad you enjoyed this one đ ily đ€
A Dangerous Love
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Sam's POV of yours and Dean's relationship.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings/tags: Implied smut, angst, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, poor Sammy! Dean being his typical over protective self, both of them are stubborn.
AN: Hey guys, I know I've been MIA for a lil while, but I'm doing okay, still getting there, although this isn't a full return, I just wanted to pop on and give you guys a little something, as well as catch up on some reading now I have a minute đ
. This was sitting in my drafts and finally touched it up. I tried something little different with It being from Sam's POV. But I enjoyed this one and I hope you guys do too! â€ïž
Main Masterlist

They were fighting again.
Sam didnât even flinch. He barely glanced up from his laptop as the sharp words echoed through the paper-thin motel wallsâvoices rising, footsteps pounding, another inevitable blowout brewing like a summer storm.
âYou canât just run in like that!â
âI had it handled!â
âNo, you almost got yourself killed!â
âIâm not a child, Dean! I know what Iâm doing!â
âWell, you couldâve fooled me with the way you acted tonight!â
Sam sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Heâd heard this fight a hundred timesâprobably more. Same argument, different hunt. Dean being overprotective, you pushing back, neither of you knowing when to shut up.
Then came the inevitableâ
âGo to hell!â
âAlready been, sweetheart.â
Sam winced a second before a door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls. Right on cue, his own door flew open, and in stormed Deanâstill fuming, chest heaving, hands clenched at his sides, his face flushed with frustration.
Sam didnât look up. Heâd learned his lesson. Playing mediator between you two was about as effective as standing between two charging bulls. So, he kept his eyes locked on his screen, feigning deep concentration on the case he was researching.
A small town in Lincoln, Nebraska. Three bodies in a week, hearts missing. Probably a werewolf. Maybe a Rugaru. Definitely not as terrifying as the emotional carnage currently unraveling in the room.
Dean stalked back and forth like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair. âUnbelievable,â he muttered, mostly to himself.
Sam made the mistake of humming in vague agreement. That was all the opening Dean needed.
âRight? I mean, she justâshe just goes in, no backup, no plan, like sheâs got a damn death wish.â
Sam finally looked at his brother, eyebrows raised. âYou mean like you do? All the time?â
Dean scowled. âThatâs different.â
Sam snorted. âOh, is it?â
But Dean ignored him, too deep in his rant to acknowledge logic.
âShe doesnât listen. Ever. I tell her to stay back, and what does she do? Runs straight into danger like sheâs got something to prove.â
From the other side of the wall came a muffled, but unmistakably pissed-off voice: âI can hear you, jackass!â
Dean didnât even hesitate. âGood!â
Sam sighed, long and suffering, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was his life. Not just the near-death experiences, not just the monsters and the ghostsâno, this. Being caught between his stubborn brother and his brotherâs equally stubborn, equally reckless, equally loud girlfriend.
Dean, still grumbling to himself, flopped onto the opposite bed and crossed his arms like an angry child. Sam wisely said nothing. He knew the drillâDean would rant, stew for a while, and eventually, in a few daysâ
Wait... Scratch that.Â
A few hours later, Sam was rudely jolted awake by a very different kind of disturbance.
Something rhythmic. Repetitive. Suspiciously⊠breathy.
At first, his sleep-fogged brain struggled to make sense of it. A fight? Noâtoo much giggling between the groans.
And thenâ
Oh. Oh, no.
Realisation hit like a freight train at full speed and his stomach churned.
The unmistakable sound of a headboard knocking against the wall. The low, hushed moans. And worst of allâ
âOh, God, Deanââ
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Sam groaned, grabbed his pillow, and smothered his own face with it like he could suffocate the memories before they fully formed. How could he forget about the damn make-up sex? He shouldâve known when Dean left the room and didnât return that this is what would come of it.Â
Burying himself deeper under the blanket, he contemplated driving to another damn state. Maybe exorcising himself. Was there a ritual for that? A way to erase the mental scarring?
Eventually, after a painfully long time, blissful silence returned, and with it, the symbolic, albeit fragile, truce between you and Dean.
The next morning, Sam nursed his coffee like a war veteran as he sat in the outdated diner, watching the two of you with equal parts fascination and whiplash.
You were nestled beside Dean on the other side of the booth, stealing bites of his pancakes with a smug grin.
Deanâwho, under normal circumstances, would stab a man with a fork for even looking at his foodâjust smirked, all stupid heart eyes, letting you get away with it like you were some divine exception to the rule.
Sam squinted. Not even twenty-four hours ago, you two were about five seconds away from an actual homicide.
Now? Now, you were practically glowing, exchanging touches, finishing each otherâs sentences, giggling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a CW drama.
Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
Every relationship expert on the planet would call this toxic. Hell, if he described it to anyoneâthe explosive fights, the impossible stubbornness, the complete disregard for self-preservation when it came to each otherâtheyâd probably diagnose you both with something and slap you with a warning label.
But for as long as he could rememberâeven before you and Dean finally got togetherâit had always been like this. Back when you were just a couple of reckless teenagers, trading jabs and daring each other into stupid, dangerous situations. Before things got complicated with feelings and labels.
You and Dean were like flint and steelâconstantly striking, constantly sparking, burning hotter than anything Sam had ever seen.
But the fire never went out.
It should have. By all logic, it should have burned itself to the ground a dozen times over. But instead, it just kept going, somehow forging you both into something stronger.
It was chaos. It was infuriating.
And, honestly? It was kind of impressive.
Even if it made Samâs head want to implode.
But then there were moments that tore away all the noise, stripped everything down to the bare bones of what you and Dean truly were. Moments that left no room for doubt.
Because when it came down to itâwhen it really matteredâthe two of you didnât just care. Didnât just love each other. You were willing to bleed for one another, break for the other, burn the whole damn world down if you had to.
And tonight? Tonight just proved that.
The hunt was supposed to be routineâget in, take care of the pack, get out. But the damn werewolves were faster, stronger. They had numbers. And somewhere between the chaos and the fighting, you made a split-second decision.
You saved Deanâs life. And you nearly lost your own in the process.
Dean caught you before you hit the ground. One second you were standing, the next you were collapsing, blood soaking through your shirt, pooling between his fingers as he pressed down hard against the gash in your side.
âNoâno, no, no,â Deanâs voice was hoarse, raw with panic. âYou're okay. I got you.â
Sam barely had time to react before Deanâs head snapped up, his eyes wild, desperate.
âSam! Get the car!â
Sam was already moving, sprinting for the Impala as Dean held you against him, his flannel already stripped from his shoulders and bunched against your wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
âYouâre gonna be okay, sweetheart,â Dean murmured, his grip unrelenting. His fingers trembled against your skin, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. âJust hang on. I got you.â
Sam skidded to a stop beside the car, yanking the door open. He turned back just in time to see Dean lifting you into his arms, his expression twisted in barely contained panic.
Sam didnât miss the way his brother held youânot just with urgency, but with a kind of care that made his chest ache.
He helped ease you into the back seat with Dean, still pressing the flannel to your side. His voice was shaking, but his grip was steady.
"Step on it, Sammy.â
Sam didnât argue. The second he was behind the wheel, he floored it, tires screeching against the asphalt.
The drive was a blur of traffic violations, but because it was nearing midnight, the roads were practically empty, making up for the reckless driving. The city flashed by in streaks of yellow and white, and in the rearview mirror, Sam could see Dean cradling you against him, his forehead nearly pressed to yours as he whispered every reassurance he could think of.
"Stay with me, sweetheart.â
"Youâre okay.â
âI swear to God, youâre gonna be okay.â
But Sam heard the crack in his brotherâs voice. Saw the way his hands were shaking. Dean wasnât just worried. He was terrified.
By the time they crashed through the ER doors, shouting for help, Dean was covered in your blood.
The nurses barely had time to react before Dean was snapping at them to hurry, his voice sharp, desperate. And then you were goneâwhisked away behind double doors, leaving Dean standing there, breathing hard, fists clenched, and your blood staining his hands.
Then came the waiting.
Dean couldnât sit still. He paced the hospital waiting room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair over and over, jaw tight, eyes darting to every single doctor or nurse that walked by. Â
The agitation built inside him like a pressure valve ready to burst, as Sam sat nearby, watching his brother unravel, feeling helpless.
"What the hell is taking so long?" he growled, throwing his arms up in frustration as his gaze stayed trained on the double doors they had wheeled you through. Â
Sam let out a quiet sigh. He was just as worried, but kicking and screaming wasnât going to make time move faster. âTheyâre doing everything they can, man. You have to let them do their job.â Â
Dean clenched his jaw, his entire body rigid with anxiety, and Sam could see the cracks forming in his brotherâs usual composure. Deannwas a lot of thingsâfearless, reckless, stubborn as hellâbut right now? Right now, he just looked scared.
When the doctor finally approached them, Dean nearly jumped down his throat. Â
"How is she? Is she okay?"
âShe lost a lot of blood,â the doctor said. âBut weâve managed to stabilize her. She needs plenty of rest, and weâll have to monitor her overnight and go from there.â Â
Sam let out a breath of relief. But DeanâDeanâs shoulders sagged, his lips pressing into a thin line as something unreadable passed through his expression. Â
They had lied, of course. Told the doctors youâd been attacked by a bear because ââyeah, doc, she got slashed by a goddamn werewolfâ â wouldâve landed them in padded cells. Thankfully, the doctors didnât ask too many questions.
When they were finally allowed to see you, Sam watched as Dean crumbled at the sight of you lying in that hospital bed. Â
You looked so small. So fragile. The machines beeped steadily beside you, an IV hooked up to your arm, your face pale from the blood loss. It made even Samâs heart twinge painfully to see you this way. You were not only his brotherâs girlfriend. You were his best friend. His sister.
Dean approached cautiously, like he was afraid youâd disappear if he got too close. Then, without a word, he sat beside you and grasped your hand, his fingers brushing over your knuckles with a gentleness that didnât match the man who had just been almost punching walls in the waiting room. Â
His throat bobbed. Then, wordlessly, he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering there as he exhaled shakily.
"You scared the hell outta me," he muttered, his voice thick, raw. âYouâre gonna pull through this, you hear me?â
He swallowed hard, then softer, more brokenâ "cause' I can't lose you."
Sam swallowed hard against his own emotions. He knew this wasnât just about saving you anymore. It was about Dean confronting the most terrifying thing he could ever imagineâthe thought of losing you. And for a man like Dean, who was constantly worrying about this very thing, you'd think he'd be somewhat prepared for the real thing. Evidently not. It was crushing, breaking him into a thousand pieces.
Sam wasnât sure how long he stood there, watching the way Deanâs thumb traced gentle circles against your skin, but he saw the anger rise, predictable from his brother's guilt and fear as it continued to chip away at him the longer he looked at you.Â
âDammit, Y/N. Why didnât you listen to me? Iââ Deanâs breath hitched, and for a moment, he just closed his eyes, like he was trying to pull himself together. Â
And then, as if on cue, you stirred. Your fingers twitched in his grasp, your eyelids fluttering, and Dean went stillâhis breath caught, his entire body frozen as he waited.
Slowly, your eyes opened, hazy with exhaustion and pain, but when they focused on him, you still managed a weak, lopsided smile.
"Worth it.â you murmured, voice hoarse. Â
Dean closed his eyes like he wanted to strangle you and kiss you at the same time, because of course youâd have a comeback, even on the brink of death.
Sam huffed a small, teary laugh, shaking his head.
Because this was the two of you. Always on the brink of disaster. Always throwing yourselves in front of danger for each other. Always driving each other insane.
It was a deep love. A dangerous love.
But it was real.
And it was true.

AN: What started off as a Drabble, became a one shot lol. I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was fun to do. đđ Also I am still working on part 2 of In The End , I'm sorry for the delay guys đ
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#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#spn#spn fanfic#sam winchester#jensen ackles#lovely mutuals
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Aww i loved this đ„č
Itâs bittersweet but also so unique and different. Itâs also ironic how she feels is exactly how us humans feel sometimes đ so sheâs on the cusp of getting it đđ»
And the âiâm leaking again.â đ weâve all been there đ«
I know you said this felt like a doozy at first but i think youâve captured it so well. I really enjoyed this Avery. So much so, i wouldnât mind reading more to this⊠maybe the boys showing her these âsmall thingsâ that make up living đ
No pressure obvs this was amazing regardless đ and also i hope you feel better soon! đđđ
Glitter and Ashes
No pairings, fem!Angel!Reader/You | WC: 1513
Summary: Dean finds you during a hunt gone sideways. He expects a demon or a curse. Not an angel with tear-stained cheeks and whoâs given up on humanity. You donât think thereâs anything left to save. But Dean thinks otherwise.
Tags/Warnings: no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men
A/N: My submission for @chevroletdeanâs 500 celebration! Not gonna lie, this thing was a doozy for me to try and come up with an idea for! But it was a super fun challenge! A huge shout out to @jollyhunter, @losers-clvb, and @bettystonewell for all the help! I was hoping to get this done and uploaded earlier, but a bug has kept me in bed for the last two days straight. Iâm still on cold medicine right now, so please forgive me if some of this seems... not entirely coherent.
When Dean kicked down the door of the motel room, he expected claws and fangs or maybe some sort of creature mid-feast. What he wasnât expecting to find was you sitting on the bed with a horribly out of date floral-patterned comforter, wearing little more than an oversized t-shirt, staring at the static on the television, and with countless beer cans littered around the room.
Your gaze flicked over to him and Sam as they stepped into the room, surveying the mess around you. You made a small noise of acknowledgement.
âHuh... thought youâd be taller.â
âExcuse me?â Dean asked, lowering his gun and flashing you a confused expression.
âI watched you before I fell. A lot of angels did.You were the Righteous Man. Michaelâs vessel. We all thought youâd be⊠I dunno⊠more impressive in person?â You shrugged and took another swig from the beer can in your hand. You grimaced at the taste.
âYouâre an angel?â Sam asked, stepping further in the room. His gun was still trained on you, but he wore the same confused look as his brother.
âWas.â The word was bitter on your tongue. âFell about three months ago. Still getting used toâŠâ you made a vague gesture to yourself, âall this. Hunger. Exhaustion. Intoxication.â You raised your beer can in a mock toast. âAnd emotions. God the emotions! Theyâre like the worst part of it all.â
âYeah, well, welcome to being human. It sucks.â Dean tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and cautiously moved around the room. You didnât flinch when he stepped closer and the floor creaked beneath his boots. âSo, what, you just decided to take a little vacation from Heaven? Thought youâd slum it with us mud monkeys for a while?â
You barked out a laugh that sounded less like a laugh and more like shattering glass.
âVacation? Is that what you think this is?â You gestured with the hand holding the beer can, sloshing the liquid over yourself and the bed. You didnât bother wiping it away. âCan you believe I chose this?â You asked incredulously. âWe chose. Me and her. We believed in what Castiel was fighting for. Humanity. Free will. All of it. We thoughtâŠâ Your voice caught in your throat. âThought it would be worth it. Wanted to experience it.â
âWhatâs your name?â Sam asked, finally lowering his weapon. His expression softened as he came to stand by Dean.
âDoesnât matter anymore,â you muttered, reaching for another beer that sat on the table next to you. âThe name I had in heaven means nothing here.â You cracked open the lukewarm beer and downed a quarter of it in one go.Â
âYouâve just been living like this?â Dean asked. There was no judgement in his voice. Just... pity? Understanding? Sadness? You werenât entirely sure.
âI stopped living when she died,â you said quietly, turning your attention back to the static on the TV. âThis is just what comes after.â
âWho are you talking about?â
âMy sister,â you said, the words feeling hollow in your mouth. âWe fell together. Cut out each otherâs grace. Figured weâd navigate this whole human thing together as a team.â You took another long drink, the alcohol going down easier than it had a couple weeks ago. âAbout a month in, a demon found us. Recognized what she was. What we were.â Dean frowned, his expression hardening.
âIâm sorry,â he said quietly.
âDonât be.â You shrugged. âYou didnât rip her apart while I watched. I couldnât do anything. No grace. No power. Just... screaming.â Your free hand covered your ear, as if it could silence the cries you heard in your head every night. Sam moved closer, his foot kicking one of the stray beer cans on the floor.
âIs that why youâve been causing trouble? The incidents around townââ
âI havenât been causing trouble!â you snapped. âIâve been trying to survive. Turns out that humanity doesnât exactly welcome my kind with open arms. No ID, no history, no skills. Canât even smite anything anymore.
âCastiel gave up everything for your kind. And we followed him down thinking that maybe we could understand what he saw. But itâs all just pain. Cruelty for no reason. And these parasites you call emotions,â your voice cracked as you spoke. âThey feed on you when you least expect it. I thought you humans were supposed to have hope. And longing. And happiness. All Iâve gotten is despair and hurt.â
Sam and Dean shared a look between them, a silent conversation you couldnât decipher even after a millennia of people-watching. It was different being among them â being one of them. Dean met your gaze.
âYeah, some days itâs mostly crap.â Deanâs voice was gruff but there was a sense of understanding laced in it. âBut thatâs not all there is.â
âThen where is it?â you straightened up, beer sloshing over the rim of the can. âCause Iâve been searching for the last month and a half, and all I get is ending up back at this motel room.â The room felt too small with the three of you in it. The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and desperation.
âIt doesnât just come to you,â Sam said gently. âThatâs not how being human works.â
âThen how does it work?â your voice went quiet. âBecause I donât understand any of this. I watched humanity for centuries. I saw civilizations rise and fall. I thought I understood, butââ
âYou were watching from the cheap seats, sweetheart,â Dean interrupted. âBig difference between seeing a game and being in it.â He stepped closer and carefully took the beer from you, scowling when he felt how warm it was. âLook, I get it. The worldâs a mess, and people are worse. And when youâre in the thick of it, it can feel like thereâs nothing good left.â
You sank back into the pillows on the bed, his words sinking into you like lead. The weight of humanity dragged at your bones in a way your vessel never did when you had your grace.
âI just wanted to understand,â you whispered. âI thought that... whatever Castiel mustâve felt had to be wonderful if it was enough for him to sacrifice everything.â Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you.
âMaybe thatâs the problem. Maybe youâre looking for some big revelation. Some perfect moment that makes everything worth it. But thatâs not what being human is about,â he said gently.
âThen whatâs it like?â You hated how small your voice sounded. How human it made you feel.
âItâs... moments.â Sam paused, searching for the right words. âSmall ones. A good cup of coffee. A book that holds your attention while the hours go by. Laughing until your sides hurt.â
âOr pie,â Dean cut it, his lips quirking up in a half smile. âDefinitely pie.â You stared at them like they had gone mad or perhaps grown a second head.
âThatâs it?â you asked incredulously. âThatâs what makes all this,â you gestured vaguely to the room around you, âworthwhile?â
âDidnât say it would be easy,â Dean said, crossing his arms. âBut yeah, those little moments? They matter. Theyâre what you fight for.â
âIâm not fighting for anything anymore.â The admission felt like defeat. Regret. Regret for falling. Regret for ever believing in silly little humans. Dean held his hand out for you.
âYouâve seen the worst of us. Let us show you the rest.â
You looked down at your own hands. Hands that used to hold the stars and now shook from sorrow and regret. For a brief moment, they seemed to twinkle in the dim light of the motel room. And after another second, you realized they werenât twinkling. Tears had dripped down onto your palms and caught the light.
âOh,â you whispered. âIâm... leaking again.â
âCrying,â Sam corrected softly. âItâs normal. Healthy, even.â You wiped the tears away with the heel of your palm.
âIt feels terrible.â
âYeah, well,â Dean gave a half-shrug, his hand still extended towards you. âMost of the important things in life do.â You stared hard at his outstretched fingers â calloused, scarred, human. The hand of someone whoâs fought and bled and lost but kept going regardless. After a long moment, you took it, letting him pull you to your feet.
âSo what happens now?â you asked, swaying slightly.Â
âFirst, a shower.â Dean wrinkled his nose. âAnd some fresh clothes for you. Then food. Real food. Not whatever crap youâve been living on.â
âI had pizza the other day.â
âYeah, youâre gonna need more than that, sweetheart. How about this? You shower, weâll get you some clothes and some pie, then we can get you to someone who can help you adjust better than we can.â
âWho?â Your defenses immediately went up. The world had taught you caution these past few months. Every kindness came with a price tag you couldnât afford.
âCas,â Dean said simply. âHe made you believe in us. Let us show you that weâre worth believing in.â
---
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!
Tagging everyone on my list bc it's Spn related: @jollyhunter @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101 @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @voodoochildthings @theamuz
Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!
#fic rec#chevroletdean's 500#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#dean winchester fanfiction#jensen ackles characters#lovely mutuals
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Aww tysm! đ„čđ Iâm so glad you liked it đ€ it was a bit of a challenge, but i saw the clip and my brain was like - âi have to write a backstory for this, itâs too funâ đ
(same đ€€)
âMr Right Nowâ
(Source)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings/tags: Implied Smut (18+), swearing, fluff, one night stand... kinda, mentions of cheating
A/N: Entirely based on this lil clip right here đđ»đ, however this will be from the readerâs POV in the beginning and perhaps a lil' insight into Deanâs funny walk đđ€Ł
Main Masterlist

Valentineâs Day.
Itâs supposed to be your favourite night to work. Singles Night always brings in a good crowd, fun music, and flirty banter that makes your shift fly by. But tonight?
Tonight, you want to crawl under the bar and disappear.
Six months ago, your ex â Travis â said you were âpressuringâ him when you asked if heâd ever thought about marriage or kids. After three years together, you figured it wasnât a crazy question. But the truth came out not long after: heâd been sleeping with your downstairs neighbour. Class act, right?
And today? You found out he just proposed to her.
Yeah. Happy freakinâ Valentineâs Day.
So yeah, youâre bitter. And tired. And trying not to punch the next person who asks for a âLove Me Long Timeâ shot with a wink.
You were mid-pour when you noticed him. Dean. That rugged, flirty regular who always nursed his whiskey like he had secrets too heavy to say out loud. Itâd been a while since he last came in â his job took him all over, heâd once vaguely mentioned. Never said much more.
But tonight, he looked good. That usual cocky smirk in place, dark flannel and jeans and those green eyes doing their usual scan of the room before settling on me.
âHey, stranger,â you say, once you finished up with your customer, managing a warm smile.
âHere to scope out the sea of desperation?â You teased. And Dean grinned, shaking his head.
You knew he played the field, usually always leaving with a woman on his arm. And a day like today must be like hitting the jackpot for him. You didnât judge him for it though, these ladies knew what they were getting into.
âThat obvious, huh?â he chuckles, his eyes already making their familiar appreciative sweep over you. Heâd aimed and missed with you once before â back when you were still with âhe-who-shall-not-be-named.â But he respected the boundary, and you appreciated that. Now, though⊠you find yourself not minding if he looks.
âI mean, if you want to feed yourself to the piranhas, who am I to stop you.â You winked and then poured his usual - double whiskey, neat.Â
âIâm surprised youâre working tonight,â he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. âThought youâd be spending Valentineâs with⊠whatâs his name again? Trevor? Tyrone?â
âTravis,â you correct, unable to keep the disgust from your voice. The name tastes like poison now.
Dean notices. Raises a brow. âTrouble in paradise?â
âTry dumping me after three years because I had the audacity to ask about our future,â you say with a tight smile. âTurns out, it wasnât because I was pressuring him â it was because he was screwing the twenty-four-year-old downstairs.â
âNo shit.â Dean blows out a breath, brows raised.
âShit. And get this.â You lean in like youâre telling him the worldâs dirtiest secret. âI found out today, of all damn days, the asshole proposed to her.â
You let out a bitter laugh. Dean just shakes his head.
âWhat a douchebag,â he mutters, voice rough with genuine annoyance on your behalf.
âJust feels like such a giant waste of time, you know.â you sigh, glancing out at the dance floor where the lonely and the bold are coupling off, laughing, swaying, kissing. All of them looking far less wrecked than you feel.
Then Rachel â your co-bartender and part-time devil on your shoulder â slides in beside you, muttering with a smirk, âWell, you know what they say⊠Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.â
She nods toward Dean before spinning off to help another customer. Subtle as ever.
âSheâs not wrong,â Dean says, that glint in his eye turning mischievous.
You raise a brow, curious. âWhat, are you offering?â
âI wasnât not offering,â he replies smoothly.
Your pulse skips.
The tension between you two has always been there â a low simmer under the surface. Banter. Glances. But you were off-limits. Now?
Now youâre single. And hurting. And Deanâs looking at you like heâs more than willing to be your rebound.
âIâm off in an hour,â you say, leaning across the bar just enough to let him see the smirk tugging at your lips. âThink youâll survive?â
Deanâs grin is slow, sinful. âOh, sweetheart. Iâve been waiting for the last year. Whatâs sixty more minutes?â
An hour later, Deanâs on your couch, thick thighs spread, watching you strip off your jacket with hooded eyes.
You straddle his lap, fingers sliding through his hair as you kiss him. Itâs rough, desperate, unlike anything youâve ever experienced. His hands grip your waist, pull you flush against him, and you moan into his mouth.
âMy ex,â you whisper against his lips, âused to call me a sex freak.â
Dean tilts his head, grinning. âYeah? Sounds like the douchebag couldnât keep up.â
You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard beneath you. âSaid I was too much.â
âSweetheart,â he growls, voice low and thick, âI like too much.â
Your clothes hit the floor in a trail of chaos. You barely make it to the bedroom before heâs pushing you against the wall, kissing you like a man starved.
Somewhere between the laughter and the gasps, you tie his wrists to the headboard with your scarf.
His eyes go wide. âOh, you are wild.â
You just smile. âStill game?â
Dean huffs a laugh, already breathless. âHell yes.â
And he is. Game for all of it. For your hands, your mouth, the way you ride him like youâve got something to prove â maybe to yourself, maybe to him. He lets you take control, lets you wreck him, and when he finally comes undone beneath you, sweaty and flushed and utterly ruined, he lets out a hoarse, âFuck... Iâm gonna feel that for a week.â
You collapse next to him, laughing into the curve of his shoulder.
âWant me to kiss it better?â
He turns his head, kisses you slow and sweet. âI think now itâs my turn, sweetheart.âÂ
And before you can reply, heâs rolling you beneath him, dragging you into round two with a look that says heâs nowhere near done.
When you wake the next morning, deliciously sore in all the best ways, you turn to find Dean still there, tangled in your sheets, a lazy arm draped over your waist. You smile and appreciate his beauty for a minute and wonder why you hadnât just fucked Travis off sooner and took up Deanâs offer, because holy shit that was probably the best sex youâd ever had.Â
Dean seems to notice your staring and hums as he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, then your neck, all the way up until heâs claiming your lips once more.Â
You sigh happily into it and as he shifts closer and he groans. âDamn, sweetheart. You really did a number on me.â He chuckles and drops his head to your shoulder.
You giggle beneath him, but bite your lip a little insecure. âToo much?â
He seems to notice your apprehension and lifts his head, his grin is lopsided as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âNever too much. Iâll take the limp proudly.â
The two of you burst out into laughter and then spend another 20 minutes sharing a few more lazy kisses before he finally vacates your apartment, leaving you with one last long, lingering kiss at the door and a promise of a repeat.
Back at the bunker, Dean limps into the kitchen like heâs been hit by a truck, wincing with every step. He makes a beeline for the fridge, yanks it open, and grabs a questionable takeout container like a man on the edge.
Sam glances up from his laptop, frowns. âIs that a hickey?â
Dean pops the lid, scoops a bite of rice into his mouth and immediately spits it out, not caring if half of it ends up on the floor. He was too hungover for this.
He sets down the container and shuffles toward the coffee pot like itâs holy salvation. Thank God Samâs an early riser.
âAnd?â Dean grunts. âIt was Valentineâs Day. Canât help it if Iâm a hopeless romantic.â
âYou got half of that right,â Sam mutters, not looking up.
Dean smirks. âJust doing my civic duty. Helping a recently single lady rediscover her joy.â
âSo⊠you were the rebound?â
Dean rolls his eyes. âYou know the best thing about February fourteenth? You donât have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now, and if that means in the rebounding sense, who cares? I still got laid.â
Sam scoffs. âClassy.â
Dean huffs, tired of the third degree. âYeah? What did you do, judgy? Curl up in a snuggy, watch fifty shades on cable?âÂ
âYeah. No.â Sam huffs humourlessly.
Meanwhile, Dean sips his coffee, eyes unfocused as his mind wanders back to the scratch of your nails down his back, the gasp you made when he kissed that spot behind your knee, the way your voice broke when you said his name.
Yeah. He thinks.
Best. Night. Ever.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was a fun little experiment and just what my brain conjured up watching this clip lol đ I don't know about you guys, but Dean could happily be my rebound đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x you#dean winchester smut#dean x reader smut#spn#spn fanfic#jensen ackles#lovely mutuals
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Holy, wow đ„”
This was the hottest, monetarily worrying, sweetest thing ever đ and that smut tho đ„”
For second there at the end i was worried we were going to have two idiots in our midsts but, thank god for that đźâđšđ
this was incredible đđ
Say It
Summary: @impala-dreamer issued a Dean POV challenge, and I accepted. The prompt for this fic is âdrunken mistakesâ.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader
Word Count: 3197
Warnings: smut from the outset, angst, Deanâs POV, oral sex, fingering, full penetrative sex, alcohol use, intoxicated intimacy, ambiguous ending
AO3 Link
Itâll never be more than this, he tells himself every time sheâs got her hands on him, every time her vodka-soaked tongue is in his mouth. It canât be more than this; drunken fumblings in the dark, dingy corners of back-street bars where they share a few shots before sheâs got her fingers on his belt, her lips on his throat, and all the while his mind is screaming at him to tell her, to confess, to risk it all. Tomorrow, it will be unspoken again, left in the darkness⊠like it never happened.
Except it keeps happening. Tonight is no different than the last four times heâs failed to resist her. Heâs helpless when it comes to her, weak and pliable, hard by the time her hand is inside his pants, fingers wrapping around him. Sheâs moaning in his ear even though he hasnât even touched her, and the sound makes him shudder.
It takes every ounce of willpower he has to pry her hand out of his jeans. She pouts, that full bottom lip sticking out in a way that almost makes him give in but he is going to have her in a bed tonight at least. Theyâve yet to find one in any of their drunken endeavours; alleyways, the Impala, a park bench, but not a bed, and heâs determined that theyâll make it to one this time.
His resolve weakens when they get outside the bar, into the silent nighttime beyond the booming jukebox and watered-down beers. She tugs him around the corner towards a wall, already dropping to her knees before he can stop her. Anyone could see them there, but that doesnât stop her pulling him out of his pants, her hot little mouth descending on him before heâs got time to blink. His head almost hits the bricks as she takes him down, making all the right noises that vibrate along his cock and completely wreck any coherent thought he might have.
He has to stop her. He doesnât want it to be like this, not here anyway. But the wet cavern of her mouth is distracting, and it takes the flash of headlights for him to finally stop her. That bottom lip comes out again - he ignores it, and pulls her to her feet, tucking his cock away before they can be arrested for indecent exposure.
She stares at him, either confused or hurt, and he doesnât want either of those things. He takes her hand, smiling as he jerks his head towards the motel room across the street. âSamâs out,â he murmurs, too afraid that if he says outright what he wants, sheâll reject him. The expression on her face morphs into a wicked smile that steals his very soul and her fingers squeeze his before theyâre moving off in tandem.
Itâs definitely warmer in the motel room. Her desire hasnât waned either; theyâre barely in the door when sheâs on her knees again, and he finds himself with his back against the wall as she swiftly resumes the mind-shattering blowjob sheâd started moments before. He canât think as her tongue slides along his shaft, letting her pull his pants down a little further so she can cup his sac. The sensation has his eyes rolling back, and a long drawn out moan leaves his lips when he feels her throat tightening around his tip. Sheâs messy, drooling as she deep-throats him, choking every so often in a way that almost tips him over the edge, fingers working on his balls and the inches of his dick she canât fit in her mouth.
Heâs close within minutes. He doesnât want to come yet, even if the heat of her mouth is so welcoming he could easily lose himself in it. The last time she did this, she swallowed his load without missing a beat, and heâd almost told her he loved her.
He canât ever tell her that.
God, he wants to.
âStop,â he gasps, trying to pry her off. She scowls and releases him, looking up without pouting this time. Heâs annoyed her. âI donât wanna come yet.â The scowl doesnât disappear but she lets him pull her to her feet. He takes a chance and caresses her face with the back of his knuckles; maybe itâs too intimate for them, and his fear of driving her away makes him act like he always has. âWanna get you off first.â
She meets him in a harsh kiss, swiping her tongue into his mouth with a moan. His hands slide around her hips, pushing her towards the bed, but she breaks away and almost dances out of his grip, kicking her shoes off with more grace than he expects considering just how much vodka they had piled on top of the beers. He definitely still feels drunk, though he feels a little like heâs more drunk on her than he is on the booze, following her as if sheâs holding a leash on his dick.
Maybe itâs around his heart. Maybe itâs both. He doesnât care as long as he can taste her.
âYouâre staring,â she whispers with amusement, reaching out with one hand to snap open the buttons on his shirt. He wants to tell her he canât help it but sheâs kissing him before he can say a single word, and heâs suddenly consumed with wanting her naked underneath him, tearing at both her clothes and his until heâs got her on her back, legs spread with his face buried in her pussy. Itâs something he dreams about more than heâll ever admit; feeling her tremble as he licks at her clit, the way she whimpers when he pushes her into a climax that soaks the sheets under her ass.
He could drown in her. Could die happy between her thighs, whichever way sheâll have him. Feeling her fingers in his hair, encouraging him to go harder until sheâs practically riding his face, hearing her tiny moans as she drips down his chin. Sheâs addictive, yet she doesnât know it.
âOh god, Dean -â
That, he thinks absently. She speaks his name like an urgent plea to God. He slides a finger inside her, making her say it again, feeling a jolt in his cock that matches the twitch of her slick walls around his intruding digit. A second fits in alongside the first, and she starts to cry out when he fucks them into her until sheâs nearly thrashing on the bed.
âDean, fuck me, please,â she begs; he canât deny her, not in any lifetime. He climbs up the bed, stealing another kiss as he fumbles between their bodies to line his cock up with her entrance, and he canât help groaning into her mouth as he fills her, swallowing down her whines. Sheâs tight, wet, hot around him; heâs sure he can feel the throb of her pulse through his cock, and he indulges in the sensation, holding himself inside her as he tries not to lose control.
Her knees press into his sides as her impatience gets the better of her. He anticipates her move before she makes it, letting her roll them both until sheâs in his lap, still stuffed full of him, and the sound she makes as she arches at the extra pressure inside her is nothing short of euphoric. He loves this view, he muses, as she grinds down on him, head thrown back in wild abandon as she takes exactly what she needs from him. His teeth grind together in concentration - he doesnât want to come, not right now when heâs enjoying the show so much. Sheâs fucking beautiful, a goddess riding his cock without a care, and heâd tell her just as much, if he thought for a second she would believe him.
She comes with a cry, toppling forward to catch her weight on her hands either side of his head. Her hips are still moving, lifting her off of him by a few inches before dropping down, and he groans at the extra friction. Thereâs no way to resist the ecstasy swimming in his veins, building with every stroke, threatening to tear him apart at the seams. She drops her lips to his, kissing away the desperate sounds heâs spilling out, and he grabs for her hips, matching her speed until heâs driving up into her without a care for whether it lasts or not.
Her whole body tenses as he wrings another orgasm out of her, moaning into her mouth when he follows in her wake, thrusting until he feels the first spurt of come filling her. He holds her down on his cock, determined to get every last drop inside her, and she doesnât fight it, dragging her lips away along his jaw, finally collapsing onto his chest with a low whimper of contentment.
Itâs a finite few seconds he gets to bask in her. Too soon, she slips off and to the side, curling underneath the sheets as she pants quietly. He wants to kiss her again, to tell her all the things he shouldnât feel, but his body demands other needs be seen to. She doesnât say a word when he gets up and pads naked towards the bathroom.
He cleans up, mentally thinking about what happens next, but when he returns a few moments later, sheâs already asleep, curled up in his bed. A triumphant smile lifts the corners of his mouth, and he pulls on a pair of boxers before reoccupying the spot heâd been in, turning to face her. He watches her sleep, trying to memorize the shape of her face, the curve of her shoulder, desperately trying to stay awake just so he can marvel at having her right there next to him. But the hunt, the alcohol, and the exertion, eventually drag him into unconsciousness.
Her side of the bed is empty when he opens his eyes and squints at the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains. She hasnât gone far; he spots her immediately when he sits up, sitting at the table with a takeaway coffee in front of her. Thereâs a second cup, presumably for him, so he gets up, throwing on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before joining her at the table. She doesnât look at him, and his heart thumps painfully in his chest when she slides the cup closer to him.
âSamâs not back yet?â he asks, wishing sheâd look at him.
âHe texted me a couple of hours ago,â she replies. No eye contact. He feels cold from head to toe. âSaid heâll be back in an hour or so.â
He nods, clasping the coffee cup in both hands. Itâs still hot. Did she wake up beside him this morning? The other bed in the room doesnât look slept in. He wants to ask, but he knows he has to phrase it carefully.
âDid you sleep okay?â
She speaks at exactly the same time. âWe should probably talk.â
His stomach drops to the floor. He takes a breath when she meets his gaze, her face in a mask he canât translate. Does she want to end⊠whatever this is?
She answers his question when he doesnât speak: âI slept fine.â It doesnât tell him where she slept. For all he knows, she made the other bed when she got up - she has a habit of doing that. He holds eye contact, still terrified, still unsure what to even say, and eventually she blinks and looks away, tucking her chin into her chest.
Sheâs going to end it. Sheâs gonna leave.
He canât help the panic that clogs his throat. Swallowing does nothing to clear it, and the seconds before she speaks stretch into eternity.
âIâm sorry,â she blurts out.
That he wasnât expecting. âWhat?â he asks incredulously, frowning at her. âWhat are you sorry for?â
âWe keep - I keepâŠâ Whatever sheâs trying to say isnât coming out, and her hands tense around her coffee as her eyes close for a brief second. She inhales deeply, then exhales, finally looking at him. âItâs been a rough year,â she says softly, âand I needed an outlet. I shouldnât⊠I shouldnât be using you for that.â
His own personality gets the better of him, and he smirks. âI ainât complaininâ,â he drawls, immediately regretting it when she winces. He sobers, frowning again. âHey, look, weâre both adults, consenting -â
âItâs a mistake, Dean.â
The way she says it has a hard edge to it, something that bristles along his spine and fills his gut with acid. He has never thought of it as a mistake, even if theyâd gone about it in all the wrong ways. To hear her say it, to even imply that she regrets being with him⊠it hurts more than any rejection heâs ever experienced.
Then she speaks again, and a different kind of agony fills him.
âI know Iâm not the type of girl you usually go for,â she whispers, keeping her eyes on the table. Sheâs trembling. He hates it. âThis is just a roll in the hay for you, but I canât - I canât keep pretending like I donât feel something for you.â There are tears in her eyes now, and his heart is breaking. âI donât think Iâm strong enough to - to keep doing this.â
Sheâs so far from the truth that he could laugh, but he recognizes that would probably be the worst thing to do. All this time, his feelings were reciprocated, yet here she was, believing that he canât want her that way, that he is just⊠using her.
He feels sick.
If it shows on his face, she doesnât see it. âI-I was thinking about heading back to New Jersey,â she continues, fidgeting in her seat. âYou and Sam donât need me to hunt, and Iâm used to going it alone, so -â
Exactly what he was so terrified of hearing. The thought of watching her leave makes him want to burn the whole world. âNo,â he says suddenly, silencing her. She lifts her chin and stares at him in disbelief.
âWhat?â
âI donât want you to go,â he clarifies. The truth sits on his tongue, begging to be told, only the consequences of it frightened him beyond belief. She might want him, might feel the same way, but whenever heâs gotten close to anyone, bad things happen. His damage is a curse that infects everyone. He canât see that happen to her⊠except heâs already close to her. Since the moment she had ripped him a new one for disrupting her hunt six months ago, heâs been unable to keep her out of his thoughts for more than five minutes. And now heâs had her, he knows what it feels like to be inside her, he doesnât think he can go back.
Her eyebrows draw together in confusion. âThen what do you want?â she asks quietly, haltingly, like sheâs terrified of the answer.
Heâs scared of it too.
His mouth opens and closes but he canât get the words to come out. He wants her to stay, wants her to be with him, more than these fleeting drunken moments that leave him aching constantly. But he canât say it. He canât give voice to his desire knowing it will damn her so thoroughly.
Coward.
The expression on her face hardens and she gets to her feet, abandoning his coffee. âItâs better this way,â she mutters, dragging her bag from where sheâd kicked it underneath the bed. He watches her, feeling the chasm in his chest widen at the idea of never seeing her again. She keeps her back to him as she packs her things before disappearing into the bathroom, and he releases the breath he was holding.
He canât let her walk away. He knows heâll regret it if he does. Itâs selfish, and it will probably get her killed, or worse, but he canât.
When she comes out of the bathroom, heâs on his feet, staring at her like sheâs the sun. She freezes, shampoo in one hand, conditioner in the other, meeting his stare with a mixture of confusion and alarm. âDean?â
âI -â He licks his lips. Speaking is never usually this difficult for him. But this is different. âI donât want you to go because I -âÂ
She tilts her head with a frown. âYou what?â she prompts when he fails to finish his sentence.
âI donât wanna pretend either,â he finally forces out, words almost jumbling together. âAbout feelings. Because I have them. For you.â How eloquent, his brain mocks, and he wants to scowl at himself when his inner voice sounds a little too much like his brother. Sam has already told him multiple times to tell her how he feels, receiving choice curse words in return.
It hasnât felt that simple before. But as the silence lingers after his confession, he starts to think that maybe it didnât matter. Maybe saying it isnât enough to make her stay. Either way, the truth is out there now, and all he can do is wait for her to say something.
Anything.
Her shoulders drop into a sigh that tears through him with the power of a tornado. âThatâs not funny, Dean,â she mumbles, taking her gaze away from him and back to packing.
He scowls at her back, more than a little frustrated and hurt that sheâs taking his very honest moment as nothing more than a prank. âIâm not joking,â he replies in a stiff tone, holding his fists at his sides. She doesnât turn, and he feels a flare of anger that sheâs just dismissing him. âNone of this is a mistake to me. Not one second of it. Maybe we shouldnât have gone zero-to-fucking within the blink of a shot but this will never be something I regret, Y/N. You are someone I will never regret.â
This time, his words make her turn. She stares at him in disbelief, and he longs to close the gap between them, to kiss her and remind her just how fucking good they are together. He wants to wake up with her in the morning, go to sleep by her side at night, he wants every cheesy Hallmark moment that could possibly exist, but most of all, he just wants her.
âBut -âÂ
Her tongue darts out along her bottom lip after the single word escapes, and itâs obvious sheâs trying to figure this out, figure him out, because heâs never been great at anything but the Dean Winchester mask heâs worn since the moment he carried Sam out of that burning nursery. With her, the pretense is gone, and heâs so fucking vulnerable - he has to trust sheâs not to going to break his heart.
He already knows heâs gonna do everything to keep hers safe.
The space between them is unbearable. She doesnât so much as flinch when heâs suddenly in front of her, one hand cupping her cheek. âI donât want you to go,â he says softly, âbecause Iâm in love with you.â
There. His final confession. He holds his breath, and waits.
#fic rec#dean winchester#supernatural#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester smut#spn#spn fanfic#amazing
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Aww thank you Beth đ€
This was a fun lil experiment, and really this is what captured that series? đ± Personally i havenât watched passed season 10 as much, so the episodes get more foggy for me, iâm deffo more of an og season 1-5 watcher đ
maybe thats just because they feel the most nostalgic to me.
But also for the sake of this fic, letâs forget about Amara and let Dean fantasise đđ and maybe this might not be the end of these two đ€ âŠâŠ
âMr Right Nowâ
(Source)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings/tags: Implied Smut (18+), swearing, fluff, one night stand... kinda, mentions of cheating
A/N: Entirely based on this lil clip right here đđ»đ, however this will be from the readerâs POV in the beginning and perhaps a lil' insight into Deanâs funny walk đđ€Ł
Main Masterlist

Valentineâs Day.
Itâs supposed to be your favourite night to work. Singles Night always brings in a good crowd, fun music, and flirty banter that makes your shift fly by. But tonight?
Tonight, you want to crawl under the bar and disappear.
Six months ago, your ex â Travis â said you were âpressuringâ him when you asked if heâd ever thought about marriage or kids. After three years together, you figured it wasnât a crazy question. But the truth came out not long after: heâd been sleeping with your downstairs neighbour. Class act, right?
And today? You found out he just proposed to her.
Yeah. Happy freakinâ Valentineâs Day.
So yeah, youâre bitter. And tired. And trying not to punch the next person who asks for a âLove Me Long Timeâ shot with a wink.
You were mid-pour when you noticed him. Dean. That rugged, flirty regular who always nursed his whiskey like he had secrets too heavy to say out loud. Itâd been a while since he last came in â his job took him all over, heâd once vaguely mentioned. Never said much more.
But tonight, he looked good. That usual cocky smirk in place, dark flannel and jeans and those green eyes doing their usual scan of the room before settling on me.
âHey, stranger,â you say, once you finished up with your customer, managing a warm smile.
âHere to scope out the sea of desperation?â You teased. And Dean grinned, shaking his head.
You knew he played the field, usually always leaving with a woman on his arm. And a day like today must be like hitting the jackpot for him. You didnât judge him for it though, these ladies knew what they were getting into.
âThat obvious, huh?â he chuckles, his eyes already making their familiar appreciative sweep over you. Heâd aimed and missed with you once before â back when you were still with âhe-who-shall-not-be-named.â But he respected the boundary, and you appreciated that. Now, though⊠you find yourself not minding if he looks.
âI mean, if you want to feed yourself to the piranhas, who am I to stop you.â You winked and then poured his usual - double whiskey, neat.Â
âIâm surprised youâre working tonight,â he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. âThought youâd be spending Valentineâs with⊠whatâs his name again? Trevor? Tyrone?â
âTravis,â you correct, unable to keep the disgust from your voice. The name tastes like poison now.
Dean notices. Raises a brow. âTrouble in paradise?â
âTry dumping me after three years because I had the audacity to ask about our future,â you say with a tight smile. âTurns out, it wasnât because I was pressuring him â it was because he was screwing the twenty-four-year-old downstairs.â
âNo shit.â Dean blows out a breath, brows raised.
âShit. And get this.â You lean in like youâre telling him the worldâs dirtiest secret. âI found out today, of all damn days, the asshole proposed to her.â
You let out a bitter laugh. Dean just shakes his head.
âWhat a douchebag,â he mutters, voice rough with genuine annoyance on your behalf.
âJust feels like such a giant waste of time, you know.â you sigh, glancing out at the dance floor where the lonely and the bold are coupling off, laughing, swaying, kissing. All of them looking far less wrecked than you feel.
Then Rachel â your co-bartender and part-time devil on your shoulder â slides in beside you, muttering with a smirk, âWell, you know what they say⊠Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.â
She nods toward Dean before spinning off to help another customer. Subtle as ever.
âSheâs not wrong,â Dean says, that glint in his eye turning mischievous.
You raise a brow, curious. âWhat, are you offering?â
âI wasnât not offering,â he replies smoothly.
Your pulse skips.
The tension between you two has always been there â a low simmer under the surface. Banter. Glances. But you were off-limits. Now?
Now youâre single. And hurting. And Deanâs looking at you like heâs more than willing to be your rebound.
âIâm off in an hour,â you say, leaning across the bar just enough to let him see the smirk tugging at your lips. âThink youâll survive?â
Deanâs grin is slow, sinful. âOh, sweetheart. Iâve been waiting for the last year. Whatâs sixty more minutes?â
An hour later, Deanâs on your couch, thick thighs spread, watching you strip off your jacket with hooded eyes.
You straddle his lap, fingers sliding through his hair as you kiss him. Itâs rough, desperate, unlike anything youâve ever experienced. His hands grip your waist, pull you flush against him, and you moan into his mouth.
âMy ex,â you whisper against his lips, âused to call me a sex freak.â
Dean tilts his head, grinning. âYeah? Sounds like the douchebag couldnât keep up.â
You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard beneath you. âSaid I was too much.â
âSweetheart,â he growls, voice low and thick, âI like too much.â
Your clothes hit the floor in a trail of chaos. You barely make it to the bedroom before heâs pushing you against the wall, kissing you like a man starved.
Somewhere between the laughter and the gasps, you tie his wrists to the headboard with your scarf.
His eyes go wide. âOh, you are wild.â
You just smile. âStill game?â
Dean huffs a laugh, already breathless. âHell yes.â
And he is. Game for all of it. For your hands, your mouth, the way you ride him like youâve got something to prove â maybe to yourself, maybe to him. He lets you take control, lets you wreck him, and when he finally comes undone beneath you, sweaty and flushed and utterly ruined, he lets out a hoarse, âFuck... Iâm gonna feel that for a week.â
You collapse next to him, laughing into the curve of his shoulder.
âWant me to kiss it better?â
He turns his head, kisses you slow and sweet. âI think now itâs my turn, sweetheart.âÂ
And before you can reply, heâs rolling you beneath him, dragging you into round two with a look that says heâs nowhere near done.
When you wake the next morning, deliciously sore in all the best ways, you turn to find Dean still there, tangled in your sheets, a lazy arm draped over your waist. You smile and appreciate his beauty for a minute and wonder why you hadnât just fucked Travis off sooner and took up Deanâs offer, because holy shit that was probably the best sex youâd ever had.Â
Dean seems to notice your staring and hums as he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, then your neck, all the way up until heâs claiming your lips once more.Â
You sigh happily into it and as he shifts closer and he groans. âDamn, sweetheart. You really did a number on me.â He chuckles and drops his head to your shoulder.
You giggle beneath him, but bite your lip a little insecure. âToo much?â
He seems to notice your apprehension and lifts his head, his grin is lopsided as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âNever too much. Iâll take the limp proudly.â
The two of you burst out into laughter and then spend another 20 minutes sharing a few more lazy kisses before he finally vacates your apartment, leaving you with one last long, lingering kiss at the door and a promise of a repeat.
Back at the bunker, Dean limps into the kitchen like heâs been hit by a truck, wincing with every step. He makes a beeline for the fridge, yanks it open, and grabs a questionable takeout container like a man on the edge.
Sam glances up from his laptop, frowns. âIs that a hickey?â
Dean pops the lid, scoops a bite of rice into his mouth and immediately spits it out, not caring if half of it ends up on the floor. He was too hungover for this.
He sets down the container and shuffles toward the coffee pot like itâs holy salvation. Thank God Samâs an early riser.
âAnd?â Dean grunts. âIt was Valentineâs Day. Canât help it if Iâm a hopeless romantic.â
âYou got half of that right,â Sam mutters, not looking up.
Dean smirks. âJust doing my civic duty. Helping a recently single lady rediscover her joy.â
âSo⊠you were the rebound?â
Dean rolls his eyes. âYou know the best thing about February fourteenth? You donât have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now, and if that means in the rebounding sense, who cares? I still got laid.â
Sam scoffs. âClassy.â
Dean huffs, tired of the third degree. âYeah? What did you do, judgy? Curl up in a snuggy, watch fifty shades on cable?âÂ
âYeah. No.â Sam huffs humourlessly.
Meanwhile, Dean sips his coffee, eyes unfocused as his mind wanders back to the scratch of your nails down his back, the gasp you made when he kissed that spot behind your knee, the way your voice broke when you said his name.
Yeah. He thinks.
Best. Night. Ever.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was a fun little experiment and just what my brain conjured up watching this clip lol đ I don't know about you guys, but Dean could happily be my rebound đ
If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like đ
Dean Winchester/series Tag List:
@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter
@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2
@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown
@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault
@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27
@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith
@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse
@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes
#dean winchester#supernatural#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader smut#dean x you#spn#spn fanfic#lovely mutuals
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