#Winscum

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Dean is so fucking soft with Donna it makes me want to light myself on fire

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

Kick in the Ass

Title:  Kick in the Ass

Author:  Mimi aka @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

Summary:  Dean and Donna act like a couple on a hunt, at Jody’s suggestion.

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Word Count:  1505

Warnings:  fluff, mutual pining, fake dating, 

Author’s Notes:  Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration. My prompt was fake dating, one of my favorite tropes. I’m also using it for my Donna Hanscum square for @spndeanbingo​. 

“Jodes,” Donna hissed. “What are you doing?”

Jody shushed her, waving away the question. Donna narrowed her eyes and glared at her friend. She was up to something, she knew it.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Jody said.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Donna muttered, though she had a feeling the answer was “no” considering the look Jody gave her. Over the top of her friend’s head, she could see Dean, leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee clutched in one hand, a donut from the box on the table in the other, the shadow of a beard visible on his cheeks. He took a huge bite of the donut and grunted in Sam’s direction.

“Alright, Dean and Donna will go in the bar, pretend to be a couple, while Jody and I wait outside. We can cover the exits,” Sam explained. “Hopefully you guys can draw out the witch.”

Dean shrugged and shoved the rest of the donut in his mouth. “Works for me,” he mumbled around the food in his mouth. “You good with that D-Train?”

Donna nodded, but she felt numb. She couldn’t believe Jody had thrown her under the bus, volunteered her to pretend to be Dean’s girlfriend. Of course, Jody had no idea how Donna felt about Dean, that was a closely guarded secret that never came to light, ever. It wasn’t like being around him made her stomach twist in knots, or her heart pound, or sweat to pool between her shoulder blades, or her hands shake. No, not at all. She pushed herself out of her chair and darted out the back door, sliding to a stop on the patio and sucking in giant lungfuls of air.

“You okay?”

His gruff, whiskey-thick voice sent a chill racing down her spine. She steeled herself before turning around, vowing not to let herself get lost in those gorgeous green eyes.

“I’m good,” she nodded. “Just...nervous is all. Witches aren’t my favorite.”

“I hear ya,” Dean chuckled. “Witches are disgusting. But, we’ll be good, I promise. We go in there, lure out the guy casting the spells on couples, and we’ll be fine.”

“How are we going to keep him from casting some kind of spell on us?” Donna asked.

“Sam’s making us hex bags as we speak,” Dean said. “Honestly, D, we’ll be great. Might even have some fun, like a real date.” He bumped her with his shoulder, winked at her, and went back inside.

“Fun, sure,” she sighed.

Donna adjusted the skirt she had chosen to wear and climbed from the car. To her surprise, Dean caught her hand in his and tugged her close. He put his arm around her waist when he opened the door to the bar, leaving it there even after they were inside.

“Let’s find a table,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and making goosebumps break out all over her.

She could only nod and follow Dean’s lead. He led them to a table in the back, in the corner, positioning them so his back was to the wall and he could see everything. He ordered drinks and it wasn’t until the waitress set them down that Donna realized he’d gotten her favorite.

“How did you -”

“I pay attention, gorgeous,” he smirked. He leaned close, his lips just inches from hers. “By the way, you look absolutely stunning.”

“You’re a big giant fooler, Dean Winchester,” she breathed.

“I’m not,” he shrugged. He grabbed his beer and downed half of it before setting it back down. “You have a hard time taking compliments, don’t you?”

“A little,” Donna murmured. “I guess I’m not used to being complimented. Doug never -”

“Doug’s an idiot,” Dean grumbled. “The biggest idiot.” He squeezed her hand and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Relax, okay? Try to have fun.”

A blush colored her cheeks and she couldn’t stop fidgeting. She glanced around the bar, wondering which one, if any, of the patrons was the witch they were looking for. Someone had been cursing local couples, somehow amping up their jealous streaks to a point where people had died. The last two victims had been found in a destroyed apartment, with hex bags on them. The last place all the victims had been seen alive was this bar.

Two hours later, they were no closer than they’d been when the evening started. Donna was about to ask Dean if he wanted to call it a night when he abruptly rose to his feet and held out his hand.

“Come dance with me,” he said.

“What?” she mumbled.

Dean leaned over her, palms flat on the table. “We’re going to dance and we are going to play it up. Those cursed couples? All the witnesses said they were madly in love, disgustingly in love. We are going out on that dance floor and we are going to make a big old show of how crazy in love we are. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Donna nodded. She took his hand and followed him to the dance floor, with one brief stop at the jukebox, where Dean chose a song “appropriate for slow dancing”.

They’d just stepped onto the hardwood dance floor, along with several other couples, when the music started. The beat moved through Donna, loud, thrumming, her heart thumping out of time, too fast, too nervous, too much. She gasped as Dean pulled her into his arms, bending over to nuzzle her neck with his nose, his blunt fingers digging into her hips as he tugged her close. Heat blasted through her, settled deep in the pit of her stomach and took up residence, intent to stay.

“Relax,” he purred, his voice soft like velvet.

Donna nodded and took a deep breath and moved, letting the music and Dean guide her. She put her arms around his neck, her fingers loosely intertwined, nails scratching at the short hairs on the back of his neck. 

Dean smiled and dragged her right up against his body, flush against him, so close there wasn’t an inch of space between them. He pushed his knee between her legs, his hips wiggling, his green eyes flashing with something Donna couldn’t quite decipher.

She closed her eyes, shutting out everyone and everything but her and Dean. She forgot about the case. She forgot about her nerves. She even tried to forget that she had it bad for Dean Winchester and dancing with him would only make it worse. She shut down her brain and let her heart take control.

Dean’s hands traced her curves as they swayed to the music, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his eyes on her and her alone. He was a damn good actor, that was for sure. He even had her believing they were in love. She couldn’t look at him, fearful he would see her truth reflected in her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Donna peeked at him through her lashes, unable to handle the full force of his stare. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her head back, then he gently brushed a kiss across her lips.

“Don't hide from me, Donna."

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"What I should have done a long time ago," he whispered. "I'm not gonna fight it anymore."

"Fight what?" She was intentionally playing dumb, terrified that he was doing all of this for show, acting like he truly liked her when really, he didn't. She held her breath as she waited for an answer.

"Fight being with you. I think when this fake date is over, we need to try the real thing."

Donna froze. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because if you're joking, I swear I'll kick your ass."

"I'm not," Dean insisted. "I wouldn't. What do you say? Are you willing to give me a shot? I understand if you're not..."

Donna nodded, her blonde hair flying around her head. "Holy smokes, Dean, I've been crushing on you since the day I met you. Of course, I'm willing to give you a shot."

Dean's mouth was on hers, kissing her with an almost desperate need, the two of them clutching at each other as if they were somehow going to be torn apart. Which unfortunately happened about twenty seconds later when Donna felt Dean's cell phone vibrate in his front pocket.

Damn it," he muttered, yanking it out of his pocket and opening it. "It's Sam. He says stop messing around and get to work."

"Oh, shoot," Donna giggled. "I forgot we were working."

"Me, too," Dean smirked. He pressed another kiss to Donna's lips, pulling away reluctantly. "This isn't over, sweetheart. We're picking up right where we left off when this case is over."

Heart in her throat, Donna could only nod. Knowing that was going to make it very hard to concentrate for the rest of the night.

"Remind me to thank Jody later," Dean whispered. "She gave me the kick in the ass I needed."

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[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

My lowkey shipping of Dean x Donna is not so lowkey anymore...

[atc74]

You’re My Key

Summary: Donna decides it is time for her and Dean to take a vacation, but she has more than one surprise in store for him. 

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, Donna’s doubt

Pairing: Dean x Donna

Written for: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Kari’s SPN Girl Power Challenge

This can be read as a stand alone, but if you really want to know my story of Dean and Donna, read Wherever You Are first. Beta’d by my angel, @just-another-busy-fangirl. Love you to the moon and back!

Donna poured a second cup of coffee and casually meandered about the Bunker. It was her day off and the boys were on a hunt. She couldn’t believe this was her life now. It was only a little over a year ago that she and Dean decided to give this thing between them a shot. She got the deputy job in Smith County and now came home to Dean every night at the Bunker. It wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need perfect. She wanted real and that is what she and Dean had found in each other.

Sure, it was hard. She worked full time and Dean was hunting with his brother, but it was easier than if she still lived states away. She had the extra income coming in from renting out her house in Stillwater and she had been saving up for a while. She wanted to take Dean on an honest-to-God vacation. She was sure he hadn’t one of those in, like, ever. She had already planned a trip and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some much needed alone time with Dean.

Donna had already booked the rooms they would need along the way. She had discussed her plans with Sam, so he was in on the decision and wholeheartedly agreed that Dean needed a vacation. The boys would be returning from the hunt later today, then she and Dean would leave first thing in the morning. She spent the rest of her day packing their bags and double checking the itinerary. Now all she had to do was wait for her man to come home.

She didn’t have to wait long. She heard the heavy door to the garage slam close and echo through the halls, carrying into the kitchen where she was cooking dinner. Dean always appreciated a hot meal and a shower when he returned. Before she started dinner, she laid clean clothes and a fresh towel out for him in the bathroom. Donna hummed as she mixed the dough for the chicken and dumplings she was making. It was the perfect comfort food for a bone chilling day. Of course, she thought it was nice out, being from Minnesota; this was great weather!

“Donna? Honey, I’m hoooome,” Dean’s voice rang out.

“In the kitchen,” she called back, a smile on her face.

“Hey, good lookin’, whatchya got cookin’?” Dean laughed as he wrapped her in a hug, his arms tight around her waist, head resting on her shoulder. He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing her in. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she told him. Turning around in his arms, she kissed him deeply to show him just how much he was missed. “Now, go take a shower, dinner will be ready when you are done. And then I will show you that there is more where that came from.” He growled low, kissing her before she pushed him away, making a face. “Go, you stink.”

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed after he lifted his shirt up to his nose. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Donna dropped the dough into the creamy mix of chicken and vegetables and set a timer. The dumplings should be done before Dean returned. She grabbed the bowls from the cupboard, utensils from the drawer and set the table. She snagged three beers and put them down as well. The timer went off a few minutes later and no sooner had she set the steaming pot in the middle of the table on the trivet, Dean walked through the door.

“Something smells delicious!” He rubbed his hands together and took a seat, Donna sitting next to him. She dished up their bowls as Sam walked in, also fresh from the shower.

“My famous chicken and dumplings, boys. Dig in,” she told them. She watched each of their faces as they took the first bite. She knew it wasn’t necessary, that it wasn’t expected of her, but she also knew she felt the need to take care of these men that she loved. Dean, the love she thought she would never experience, and Sam, the brother she never had. It made her happy to take care of them, even though they told her over and over she didn’t need to. The three of them had fallen into an easy rhythm within a few weeks of her moving in and they all just fit in each other’s lives.

During dinner, Sam and Dean filled her in on the hunt. It was not as easy as they had hoped, but neither of them had sustained any injuries, and that was always a win. She thought she actually worried more about them now then she ever did when they were apart. But this was a relationship now, not just friendship. It was deep and meaningful.

The dishes were cleared and leftovers were stored. Donna took Dean by the hand and led him back to their room. She had set up an ice bucket with four beers in it next to the bed with an envelope leaning against it, Dean’s name neatly written in her hand across the front.

“What is this?” he asked seeing it there when he climbed into bed.

“Open it, silly goose,” she prompted. She watched as he opened the envelope, his eyes wide when he turned to look at her.

“Are you serious?” he was astonished, most likely because someone would do something like this for him.

“Of course, Dean! I think it is time we took a vacation. From talking to Sam, you guys have never really had a vacation, with the exception of Vegas week. You’ve earned it, Dean. We’ve earned it,” she explained.

“Route 66? This is gonna be awesome! Thank you, Donna. This is really great. I love it,” Dean whispered, pulling her in for a kiss. Whenever he kissed her, it knocked her socks off. He left her breathless and wanting more, even if it was just a peck. Dean approached everything like he did hunting: calculated and measured and every move with a purpose. He rolled them until he was hovering above her. He spent the next few hours loving her, showing her exactly what she meant to him.

Morning came too early for Dean’s liking, but Donna was already out of bed. He smelled coffee and shuffled to the kitchen, clad only in his dead guy robe.  Donna handed him a cup and continued bustling around the kitchen. She was packing sandwiches and snacks, along with extra beer, for their journey.

“You ready to begin our adventure today?” she looked over at him. He wasn’t even drinking the coffee, just admiring her as she moved about. Some days he couldn’t believe this beautiful and confident creature he was in love with was the same timid woman he met on a case more than four years ago.

“I am more than ready to start another adventure with you, Don. I’ll get dressed then carry this stuff out for you, then we are off,” he replied. He returned to the kitchen fully dressed and grabbed the cooler and headed for the garage, Donna right behind him with a smaller cooler she had packed the food in. They settled everything in the backseat, tossed the bags in and took their seats in the car.

“Ready?” she asked.

“First stop: Hamburger City!” Dean exclaimed as he turned the key and Baby’s engine roared to life. They pulled out of the garage on what Donna hoped was the next leg of their adventure together. She mentally crossed her fingers and prayed she was making the right move.

Their first stop was Robert’s Grill, a little diner in El Reno, Oklahoma. They each had an onion burger, the house specialty, and shared an order of chili cheese fries. “These are amazing!”

“This is probably the best burger I have ever had!” Donna declared as she shoved another chili covered fry in her mouth, licking her fingers.

“Honey, you keep that up and we won’t make it to our next destination,” Dean warned, a smile paying at his lips.

“Maybe that is the next destination,” Donna suggested. “We have been on the road for some time already…”

“Maybe a quick pit stop won’t hurt. Let’s get outta here, Sweetheart,” he slid out of the booth and reached for her hand. It was still early and the sun was shining bright. It took a bit of out of the way driving for them to find a secluded spot, but as soon as Dean parked, they made quick work of Donna’s promises from the diner. An hour later, they were back on the road.

Dean wasn’t as impressed with the Cadillac Ranch as Donna hoped he would be. He just didn’t get how people could do that to a car; it seemed so wrong in his eyes. They back tracked to Amarillo for dinner and checked into the hotel Donna had reserved. Dean was impressed with the hotel. The room didn’t smell like something had died and there was nothing growing in the shower. The bed was comfortable and the sheets were clean. He was with Donna and he couldn’t ask for more. This was already a memorable trip and he couldn’t wait to continue on this journey with her.

“Hey Don, I know you have TInkertown on the list, but I am kinda excited to see the Grand Canyon. Do you mind if we hit it up on our way back instead?” Dean asked Donna as they stopped for fuel.

“Oh hey, no! I think that sounds like a great idea, Handsome. Let’s go!” Donna exclaimed and climbed back in the Impala. Her plans were being pushed up slightly and now she was a little nervous. Her plan had been to arrive at the Grand Canyon nearing sunset and this would put them ahead of schedule. She may have to adjust her plan.

Dean and Donna sat hand in hand overlooking the Grand Canyon. They had stopped for lunch and a pitstop, arriving an hour or two before the sunset. Donna was relieved that the timing had worked. She looked over at the man next to her, not believing this could be her life. She shifted to her knees and turned to him.

“You see this Dean? The way the sunset unlocks even more natural beauty of the rock. It is already there, but like it needed a key to really shine,” she handed him a small box.

“Don, what is this?” Dean asked her, perplexed at the box she placed in his hand.

“Stop asking and just open it, please,” her big brown eyes, boring into his. He pulled the top off the box and lifted out the contents.

“A key?” he asked. An old fashioned key, small enough that it fit on a chain. Donna took the chain from him and placed it over his head, hanging perfectly over his heart. She took something from her pocket and placed an identical chain over her head.

“A key to this,” Donna held up a small lock that hung at the end of her chain. “The key that you hold, unlocks even more of me, the natural me that until I met you didn’t even know existed. You’re my key. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you have made me. I am a happier, more confident woman since the day you busted into my life. Dean, will you marry me?”

The look, the myriad of emotions, that crossed Dean’s face made Donna start sweating and question everything she had ever felt for him. Was she reading more into it than was really there? Did Dean love her as much as she loved him? Did he love her at all? What if she made a terrible mistake? She took a deep breath and hung her head in her hands. She stood and tried to take a step back, but his hand on her waist stopped her.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to start, much less what to say.” Dean licked his lips nervously, his eyes cast downward as he gathered his thoughts. Donna was terrified that he was going to end things with her; that she had gone too far.

“It’s okay, Dean. You don’t need to say anything. I get it,” she whispered.

“I thought I had it all worked out in my head and then you did all this, and now I can’t think of a single thing I wanted to say. I do have so many things I want to say, but they’re all going to fall short if held up against what you said.” He looked down at the key. “This is probably the best, most meaningful and perfect gift that anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. Hey, uh, why don’t we head out?” Donna looked out over the beautiful landscape laid out before them, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap. She was startled when she felt Dean’s large hand hold her two smaller ones.

“Look at me, Beautiful,” he said and Donna turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She still wasn’t sure what emotions she saw there, but felt that love was one of them. “I, um, I told Sam last week that you were it for me. It scares the hell outta me to think that, much less to say it out loud. Hell, Don, there was a time when you scared me. You are so beautiful and I couldn’t help but wonder what you wanted with a guy like me.”

Donna opened her mouth to speak, but Dean held his finger against her lips, silencing her.

“I never thought I would have this in my life, this unconditional love that I feel for you, and you for me. I never knew what that was. Despite all my faults, you love me anyways, and I love you even more because you can see past all my bullshit and excuses, and don’t hold back when I need to be called on it. I never thought in any lifetime, I would be saying these words and I find it so ironic that you said them first. So I’m just gonna give you this, since you beat me to it,” Dean laughed and handed her the small box he was holding. With shaky hands, Donna opened the box and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Dean,” she gasped. “What’re you doing?”

“Apparently, we had the same idea, but like I said, ya beat me to it,” he took the ring and slipped it on her finger. “Our love is like these knots. There is no end and no beginning, like my love for you.”

“I love it, and I love you. But, Dean, you never answered my question,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yeah that question that I wanted to ask, but as usual, you were one step ahead me. Yes, Donna. I wanna marry you, Sweetheart. Hell yes, I can’t wait to marry you.” Dean pulled her face to his and crashed their lips together. This kiss was like so many they shared before, full of love and passion, but this was the first kiss of the rest of their lives.

The Whole Enchilada Taglist: @iwantthedean @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @tankcupcakes @katymacsupernatural @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @meeshw777  @tmccarney @ruprecht0420 @theoriginalvicki @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @notnaturalanahi @impalaimagining @mrswhozeewhatsis @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 @tattooedmomster13 @sandlee44 @moonstar86 @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash  @squirrel-moose-winchester @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @feelmyroarrrr @itseverythingilike @smoothdogsgirl @supernatural-jackles @ryantherandomhero @love-kittykat21 @kathaswings @crispychrissy @paintrider13-blog  @bethbabybaby @ravenangel33 @shaelyn102

Dean’s Den of Iniquity: @akshi8278  @iamabeautifulperson18 @suzannebeaketa @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @boxywrites  @sparklesuperwholock88  @ericaprice2008 @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels 

[jayankles]

Is anyone a Dean/Donna shipper? Please tell me! Send Gifs!

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Heartbreaker, Gatekeeper

Pairing: Dean x Donna

A/N: Again - still not out of my hiatus but I found a little time tonight so here you go. An aesthetic of one of my fav pairings :D

This is 1 out of my 13 entries for @mamapeterson / @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Fanfiction Challenge where I chose the album “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. The song prompt for this aesthetic is: Smoke and Mirrors

She knew him better than any woman he had ever been with. She knew his life. She knew his world and she saw past all his smoke and mirrors. She broke down his well constructed walls a little by a little. Slowly he let her smiles and laughter fill his life.

Hunting was Dean’s life. He never thought a woman, much less a woman like her would fit into his world. He never thought any woman could sweep him away the way that Donna did. The best thing about her was that she didn’t even know what she was doing to him. She didn’t see how intoxicatingly beautiful and how smart and tough that she was.

That was Dean’s favourite thing about her. She had broken down his walls. He was all in now. He wanted her more than anything and he told her that when he asked her to marry him. Dean would never forget the gorgeous smile that lit up her face that day or the way she beamed when she gave him her yes and he gave her his.

Now Dean’s real work began. She had allowed herself to love him but he also knew that Donna still expected him to break her heart. She still expected him to leave her for someone better, but Dean wouldn’t. He wanted to show her that there was no one better than her. There was no one more deserving of his love and he was actually the one out of her league.

There was times where Dean thought all of this was a dream, that she wasn’t real, but she was. She was more real than anything in his life and she wanted him as much as he wanted her. With Donna Winchester at his side, Dean knew there was nothing this crazy world could throw at him, he wouldn’t make it through.

Deonna Tag Team

 @adriellej @katnharper @torn-and-frayed @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @winchesterswoonathon @sleepywinchester @jensen-gal @purgatoan @tas898 @iamnotsaneatall @love-kittykat21 @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @for-the-love-of-dean @jayankles @flufy07 @bringmesomepie56 

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance - V

Summary:  Donna tortures Dean.  

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings:  Smutty language, smutty thoughts.  

Notes:  Donna’s messages are in italics and Dean’s are in bold italics.  

Don’t know what’s going on?  Catch up here:

Part I 

Part II 

Part III

Part IV

Professional Distance

V

When the sun rose the next day, Dean woke up with the itch of anticipation under his skin.  It was palpable in every breath he took and every thought in his head.  It was perfect and it was torture.  Euphoria and sweet agony, twined around every thought until he couldn’t distinguish them anymore.

Donna was coming back today.

Euphoria.

They had a date.

Ecstasy.

He wouldn’t see her until that night.

Agony.

The day crawled by at a snail’s pace, the sinking sun teasing him as the afternoon wore on.  He tried to work, tried to think, but it wouldn’t happen.  His brain wasn’t capable of processing anything other than Donna’s face behind his eyes and the memory of her skin under his fingers.  The knowledge that he would see her in a few hours only made the anticipation worse until it was all he could do to keep from running out of his office and across the city to her hotel.  He’d run through the halls, screaming her name until he found her room and she had no choice but to let him in.  It was a good way to get a restraining order but he couldn't help but entertain the thought.

Finally his alarm went off, telling him it was time to go home and get ready.

Dean had laid out his suit that morning, pressing the wrinkles out of the deep black fabric and starching his white shirt.  His best black tie was set aside.  He’d stopped just short of picking every individual piece of lint off the damn thing, but only just.  The nervous energy made him very detail-oriented, apparently.  Now, he smoothed the jacket down and looked in the mirror for the dozenth time in the last half hour.  It fit him the same as it always did, tight across his shoulders but otherwise fine.  His hair had smoothed into place evenly and he’d shaved, trying very hard to look like someone who belonged with Donna.  He’d even gone so far as to dress in neutral black, not knowing what she was wearing and not wanting to clash with her.  Even if he hadn’t quite realized his motivations, subconsciously he wanted it too look like they belonged together.

He was ready too soon, he realized with a groan when he was ready and putting on his watch.  He wouldn’t have to leave for another hour.  Sighing and loosening his tie, Dean headed to the kitchen.  He’d drink a beer, eat some leftovers.  Pretend this wouldn’t be the longest damn hour of his life, dragging on and on until he felt like screaming.  Luckily the beer was cold and smooth on his tongue, sliding easily down his throat.  It settled warm in his stomach and he sighed again, this time in satisfaction.  He tossed a tupperware container in the microwave and took another long pull from the bottle.  

Only fifty-three minutes left to go.

The microwave dinged to let him know his food was edible and at his phone beeped simultaneously, his inbox letting him know that a new message had popped up.  Faced with very little else to do, he opened his email to find that the new message was from Donna.  He frowned first in confusion, then in concern that she was cancelling, only to find that it was a work email.  The message contained the next three chapters in the saga of Chloe and Dan.  

Dean pored over it, reading in between bites of leftover lasagna.  Chloe and Dan managed to kill the wendigo and make it out of the forest, although only barely.  Chloe was sporting some cracked ribs and Dan was spiking a fever, weak enough now that Chloe was almost carrying him down the trail.  She was able to radio for help as they got closer to civilization, the ambulance meeting them at the entrance to the forest just as she was ready to collapse.  They both got loaded up and taken in, Dan jokingly telling her not to run off before the pain pills kicked in and he passed out.

Chloe stayed.

Even after they taped up her ribs and she was cleared to leave, even after she learned that Dan would be fine, she stayed.  

This was a new MO for Chloe, who prided herself on her ability to avoid attachments.  She had her dad and her sister - everyone else was optional.  Except, suddenly, for Dan.  For Dan she stayed in that waiting room and worried herself sick, imagining the swollen and angry red edges of the wound as the EMTs ripped his shirt apart to treat him.  

A nurse came out and asked for her, shaking Chloe out of her brooding and down to something deeper than bone.  Maybe to her soul.  She hadn’t realized how scared she was that she might not see him again until the moment it was a possibility.  

“Detective Ransom?”

She nodded.  “That’s me.”

Ahem.  Sort of.

“He wants you.”

The words struck her completely mute.  She realized that the nurse meant he wanted to see her, but Chloe had been scared philosophical and she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes.  

“Do you need a minute?” the nurse asked, clearly making an effort to be accommodating.  In reality, she had a whole other wing of patients to worry about and mopping Chloe up off the waiting room floor was not a priority.  

“I’m good,” Chloe said, easing her sore torso up out of the chair.  “Lead the way.”

He wasn’t in the ICU, which she considered a good sign.  She was led to his room and then abandoned as the nurse took off for the next room, the next tower of paperwork.  Fine by her.  Dan was staring out the window, watching the sun as it sank behind dark storm clouds building on the horizon.  The light filtered through as a dark, bloody red that splashed over the floor and the blanket on his bed.  A reminder of what could have happened.  It made bile rise up in Chloe’s throat even as she studied him, appreciating the strong jaw and the half-week of beard growth.  He was gorgeous.  And smart.  And kind.  And resourceful.  Maybe even perfect, even if her logical brain balked at the word.

The nurse’s words rang in her ears.

He wants you.

She wanted him, too.

Finally Dan noticed her there and turned to face her with a big dopey grin, taking ten years off his face while still making those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appear.  Damn him.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Chloe was supposed to show up, kill the monster, and leave.  Maybe have a few laughs and a roll in the hay if a pretty face was in the area.  She wasn’t supposed to let herself get tied into a knot over some park ranger, even one with glittering emerald eyes and a voice that made every cell in her body hum.  

He was going to hurt her.

“Hey, detective,” he greeted, speech slurred by morphine, and patted the bed next to him.  “Come sit with me.”

And goddamn it, she was going to let him.  

Dean closed the document and looked at the wall in front of him, his dinner forgotten next to him.  His beer sat neglected on the counter.

This was the closest he’d gotten to a window into Donna’s thoughts, he realized.  

She was a master of deflection, avoiding topics like Doug with ease.  A bright smile and a quick shift of the conversation was all it took to put the unpleasantness in the rearview mirror.  She may have narrated her adventures with Jody and opinions on bobby pins, may have confessed to having thoughts about him that made his heart race, but she’d never told him much more than that.  Certainly had never hinted on what all this was about, even with Chloe and Dan racing inevitably toward each other.

Now he knew.  

Now he knew that she was just as torn up over him as he was over her.  Dean could relate - he craved her like sunlight, like air, even as he held himself back from initiating anything for fear of rejection.  It might have killed him, he realized now, and she must be feeling something close to that if Chloe’s inner dialogue was to be trusted.  He knew now that Donna was opening herself up to him, to whatever it was they were cultivating between them.  Even after a divorce, even after being hurt.  

She was giving him a chance.

And goddamn it, he was going to take it.

-- X --

Donna’s release party was in one of the big executive’s penthouses, an entire two floors perched atop a skyscraper in the densest part of the city.  Deciding against taking the chance that someone would scratch Baby in a public parking lot, Dean called for a cab and anxiously kept an eye on his phone the entire ride.  He’d started a new message roughly a dozen times, only to erase it and groan in frustration.  Even now he stared at his phone, willing himself to find the perfect words to convince her that she was safe with him.

She was perfect.

He wouldn’t hurt her.

She drove him crazy.

He wanted her so much that it was a physical presence in his veins, incinerating him with every beat of his heart.

As always, Donna beat him to the punch.  Her message popped up a block from the party, simple and somehow managing to convey every bit of her anxiety.  He could feel her tensing up from his place in the cab, worrying about speaking in front of people and then worrying about how personal she’d gotten with Chloe and Dan.

You still gonna make it?

Dean sent his reply and tucked the phone into his breast pocket, hoping he’d said enough to put her at ease.

Wouldn’t miss this for the world.

The cab dropped him off and the doorman checked his name against the guest list, letting him in with a smile and a general encouragement to have a nice time.  Dean smiled in thanks and headed for the elevator, pleased when it was occupied with people he knew.  Making polite small talk spared him from getting himself worked up over this going well.  It was all he could do to keep his head in the conversation instead of wondering where Donna would be when they got to the penthouse.  Would she be mingling?  Would she be waiting for him at the elevator?  Would she be cornered by another agent, pitching the newest movie deal?

The elevator opened and they all exited, greeted by catering staff with pressed white shirts and slim flutes of champagne.  Dean turned his down, wishing instead for another beer.  Hell, maybe whiskey. His eyes scanned the party, looking for Donna and coming up empty.  She was probably hyperventilating in a spare bedroom.  The thought made him grimace.  He wanted to help if she was nervous, which she almost certainly was.  He kept half of his attention on his phone in case she needed him, doing his best to stay at the edges of the crowd to keep a better eye out for her.

She didn’t show.

He didn’t catch a hint of her blonde hair or the fabric of her undoubtedly bright dress against the dark formal wear everyone else had donned.  Her bubbly laughter never rose above the murmur of the crowd or the faint beat of the music.  Dean circled the main room one more time, exchanged words with a few people he knew, and made his way back to the kitchen to peek inside.  The food was all vampire-themed to match Chloe’s latest baddie and while he was interested in the fang-marked cupcakes, they weren’t what he was looking for.  His mind turned traitor, suggesting that maybe Donna had changed her mind.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed for it a little too quickly, leaning against a bookshelf to keep anyone from reading over his shoulder.  His first thought was to go into interrogation mode - where are you? - but her message stopped him.  

Donna watched Dean move through the throng of people, stone-faced and single-minded in his pursuit.  At first she thought he might have been looking for something a little stronger than champagne, she couldn’t blame him for that, but then she noticed that his eyes popped up whenever a blonde head passed by.  Was he looking for her?

Dean scowled.   You know I am.

Waiting was torture, Donna thought to herself as she readjusted her dress for the hundredth time in the last hour.  She’d spent the day agonizing over seeing him, counting down the seconds until she could get an eyeful of the man who made her feel like an idiot teenager with hormonal problems.

You and me both.   He sighed, looking around the room again in hopes of catching a glance.  If she could see him, he could undoubtedly find her.   You know we could skip this, right?  Just get out of here?

God, how she wanted to.  She wanted to climb down the fire escape and get a taxi out of there, especially if Dean was offering to escape with her.  But she made a commitment and had every intention of sticking to it, even if it meant waiting that much longer to touch him.  Donna stared at him, the pouting jut of his lower lip as he frowned at his phone, and remembered dragging her tongue over that plump swell of flesh.  She wanted another taste more than she wanted her next breath.  

Dean didn’t know what she’d been doing all day, in between makeup and hair appointments and looking longingly at food that she wasn’t allowed to have.  Devoid of all other human satisfaction she’d been forced to write, pushing Chloe and Dan ever further toward completion.  Narrative completion as well as physical, she thought as she recalled scribbling filthy words on a hotel notepad.  Her skin had superheated in minutes, thinking less of the Dan’s character than she had the man who inspired him.

Dean’s brow furrowed and he snuck glances over his shoulders, making sure no one was behind him to read his phone.  

There was only so much you could do with your imagination but Donna did her best, imagining planes of muscle covered in lightly tanned skin.  She suspected the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones might appear elsewhere along the length of his body, a constellation to guide her intrepid fingers as they committed him to memory.  She would read him like braille before letting herself have a taste, Donna thought to herself.  If it took her all night, she would memorize every inch of muscle and bone and skin that made him whole.  Dean was an oasis and she’d been stranded in the desert a very long time - she would drink him in as though her life depended on it.

Dean’s eyes closed and he took a deep breath in through his nose, only barely holding it together.  The air passed back through his slightly parted lips but did nothing to calm his pounding heart.  

Maybe her life did depend on it, she mused to herself.  She’d spent the day fantasizing about what she’d do to him once they were in the same room and now it felt like she would die if she didn’t touch him.  Her imagination supplied all the details, from the fabric of his suit to the softness of his hair as it carded through her fingers.  The smell of his aftershave.  It was hell.  Sweet hell that made her every breath sizzle in her lungs.  They were a few scant feet away and heat had pooled mercilessly between her thighs, the slick flesh desperate for attention she couldn’t give.  Even if she could, her own fingers would only be a disappointment knowing Dean’s were in reach.

Jesus, Donna.   They were the only words his overwrought brain could process, most of his blood in the process of rushing elsewhere.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Dean was experiencing his own personal hell in that suit, flesh hardening against his zipper as Donna’s words scrolled across his mind.  Could he feel how much she wanted him through the phone?  She felt like everyone who passed her could tell that she was burning up, aching and wet.  How he was tolerating all this she would never know.

I’m going crazy here, he told her honestly.   I need to see you.  Please.

He never got the chance to plead his case.  The executive responsible for the party - Gabriel something or other - had stepped into the middle of the room, tapping his fork on his glass to get everyone’s attention.  He gave a charismatic introduction that got plenty of laughs and applause, smiling smugly at the attention even as he was talking up Donna’s success and the work she’d put into it.  Goddamn it, this was lasting forever.  Dean was considering giving up his place at the back of the room in favor of searching every room for his date but then he heard Donna’s pseudonym and he stood at attention again.  

The healthy smattering of applause faded into the roar of blood in his ears as Donna emerged from a dark hallway onto the landing above them, overlooking the party.  Her hair was pulled into an intricate knot at the base of her neck and her eyes had been lined in dark makeup, turning her warm eyes into something closer to sultry.  Gold earrings dangled from her ears, drawing his eyes to the smooth line of her neck and then to the bare expanse of her collarbones.  Gold bracelets dangled on her wrists as she grasped the banister, grounding herself.  

She was wearing the tightest dress he’d ever seen, the smooth black leather stretching over her waist and hips before transforming into dense black lace that brushed against the floor.  It was strapless, the neckline dipping low between her breasts before converging into a solid gold zipper that trailed down her front to stop at the apex of her thighs.   Dean felt like his every daydream had been picked apart and put on display, exposing the depth of his desire to a room full of people.  He watched helplessly as Donna’s eyes surveyed the crowd and found his.  Her gaze hit him like a crack of lightning, shooting straight down his spine to the insistent throb of his erection.

Wanting her was going to kill him.

[leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid]

What's Deonna?

Deonna is the ship name I use for Dean and Donna. Some call them Winscum as well. I hope that answers your question hun.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Imperium Locus

Summary: Dean wasn’t supposed to feel the way he did about Donna Hanscum. On paper, the pair were never meant to be, but what happens when he dares to let his guard down.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Word Count: 5.7k+ (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Language, show level violence, character death

Square Filled: Enemies to Lovers

Author’s Note: Written for @spngenrebingo​.  I honestly have no idea where this came from. Probably because I’m absolute Winscum trash. I have no regrets. Also, I’m not 100% sure this is even enemies to lovers. I tried though, therefore none of you can criticize me. I hope you all enjoy this, as always I love to hear what you thought. xoxo Alex. 

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

A camera flashed outside the main door to Imperium Locus as clients flooded inside. The lights inside were low, reflecting against the crystal that hung from almost every open space of the club. There was chatter from the locals intertwined with the jazz that the band created from the stage. 

“Mrs. Scott is a tramp, everybody knows that. Well, except for Mr. Scott.” Laughter rang out around the table as Dean was making his rounds. He made eye contact with his buddy at the table, squeezing his shoulder and bringing him up to stand next to him. 

“Hey, Garth, how about we keep the gossip for the column, eh? People are trying to enjoy themselves tonight.” Dean patted down his wrinkled tie and raised a single brow at the journalist.

“You won’t have to worry much longer Dean. I’m working on something big right now, you’ll see.” Garth’s words were slurred as they came from his mouth. “They’ll all see!”

Dean once again patted his friend’s shoulder, leaving him to be with the group he had shown up with. Garth was always on about how he had some big story that he was working on, and it almost always ended up as some sort of fluff piece in the local paper. Dean had no worries about the strange fellow he called a friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to cut him off before he could no longer walk straight. 

As he made his way to the bar, a shot was slid across the wood and into his ready hand. Dean tipped it back, allowing the whiskey to burn down his throat. Ash stepped down the way to wipe the counter in front of his boss. 

“Only water for Garth from now on, okay? He can come to me if he’s angry but I don’t need him getting himself into trouble on my account.” 

“Got it, boss.” Ash nodded his head once at the club owner before refilling his shot. Dean threw it back again without hesitation. “By the way, isn’t Jo supposed to be on by now?”

Both men turned their heads to the stage devoid of the Imperium’s star performer. Though it wasn’t unlike her to be a little late to the stage, her absence never sat right with Dean. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and hummed, “Yeah, let’s give her a couple of minutes.” 

As Dean spoke, the lights dimmed in the club as the stage lights grew. The head of his jazz ensemble came onto the stage to announce Jo’s arrival, and the crowd broke out into applause and whistles. 

“What a dame,” Ash sighed from beside Dean. 

“She gets ‘em every time.”  Dean agreed. The pair of them watched the charismatic woman charm the crowd like she did every other night since joining the staff at the Imperium. Jo was the secret to Dean’s recent success with the club. Ever since the paper did a column on her show, people from all around the greater area were coming to see her perform. The small, spirited woman had a way with the music that captivated even the most skeptical and frazzled customers. 

“Dean,” Ash’s face fell as he glanced towards the front door. Dean caught his gaze and followed it, only to be hit with the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. His place was more packed than ever and more than that, he wanted a peaceful evening that didn’t end in a bloodbath. 

Walking in the front doors of his club was none other than Fergus MacLeod, the notorious jackass that pretty much owned the town just a mile south of Lawrence. He was flanked by his usual henchman, Gordon Walker. None of that pissed him off more than the woman on his arm, Donna Hanscum. 

Donna was a girl that had grown up right here with his little brother Sammy. Just a few years younger than himself. She was quiet and kept to herself in school mostly but what had always caught his eye was her beauty. Her soft blonde curls were always in place and her mother never failed to pick out a dress for her that didn’t bring out the amber in her eyes. She was a sweet girl. That is until she married Doug. Somehow, that was where it all went downhill for the young woman. Ever since her association with Doug, the pair had been attached to MacLeod’s side. Even after Doug left her, Donna stuck around the vile man that Dean assumed was less than human. They were the dynamic duo of Pleasant Grove, ironically enough. But everyone knew of the back door dealings they tried to hide. Not to mention all the trouble they have caused the Winchester family. Fergus wanted to take over Lawrence, where the real money was to be made, and he had tried to use John’s death as a means to get inside. Dean had been warned by his father of the MacLeod’s long before he was murdered, and had sworn to protect Lawrence from them at all costs. So that’s what he does, protects the town he loves from the evil they can’t even begin to comprehend, and now, here MacLeod was, in his late father’s club, and that pissed Dean off. 

“I’ll take care of it, but call for Benny.” Dean tapped the bar with his knuckles before pushing off of it and leaving Ash to head to the back of the house. Dean licked along his lower lip, his eyes narrowed at the people in his house. Donna caught his line of sight, her head tilting up and a sly smile appearing on her lips when she realized he was staring at her. She pulled on her sky blue gown as she went down the steps into the lounge area, the slit in the satin reaching far higher than anything Dean had seen before. 

Fergus gripped her elbow and guided her to a table behind Gordon. The henchman tapped the shoulder of the paying customers at the table and shooed them away with a tip of his hat. He pulled out the chair for Donna who sat down next to the man that was evil personified. Her eyes still on the green-eyed club owner. 

“Well well, if it isn’t little Cassie Robinson.” Donna turned her attention away from Dean and towards Fergus, where he now had the arm of a young woman trapped in his grasp. “You have the money you borrowed from me?”

“Not yet, but I have something in the works.” She flashed him a brilliant smile, but one that was laced in fear and embarrassment. Her eyes averted back and forth, hoping no one in the area was paying any attention to her predicament. 

“Not yet? Well, that was a glass of mighty expensive champagne I saw you drinking over there.” Fergus’ lips twitched into an evil smirk. 

“Well, a lady has to keep up appearances.” 

“Your appearance is gonna suffer if you don’t get me my money. Twenty four hours.” His voice dropped dangerously low and Cassie ripped her arm from his fingers. A frown fell onto her face as he sneered at her, the young woman stomping off without another word. Donna looked away as Cassie passed her, ashamed that she couldn’t help the poor woman. She couldn’t even save herself, so what was she to do for Cassie?

The young woman in trouble knocked into Dean’s shoulder as he passed on his way to MacLeod, and he watched her run off with a sigh. 

“Can I help you?” Dean stopped next to Donna, his eyes on the man whose vile leached out into the atmosphere around. 

“Wow, Dean Winchester. What a pleasure.” MacLeod did nothing to hide the sarcasm in his voice, a smile still on his lips. Dean pushed back his suit jacket and slipped his hands into his pockets as his gaze flicked to Donna for half a second. “You know I actually thought this was my club for a while, considering that’s my singer up there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to inform you, but your club is down the road,” it was Dean’s turn to smile now, “The one lacking customers.”  

“Hmm, funny.” Fergus pretended to ponder over his thoughts. “Give me my girl back, and I’ll let you live.” 

“Jo is free to do whatever she wants, and she wants to stay here.” Dean turned as he spoke his next words, his forefinger pointing towards the main entrance. “You, on the other hand, are free to go.” 

MacLeod laughed, an earnest chuckle, “You know this club had such class when your father ran it. You know it’s too bad your mother and John had such a horrific accident, I mean your mother was always so,” Fergus licked his lips, his eyes narrowing, “Hospitable.” 

“I think it is time for you to get out of my club, or I will throw you out.” All hint of amusement was gone from Dean’s face. His blood was boiling underneath his skin, and it took everything in him not to sock the man staring up at him. 

Fergus didn’t take his eyes off Dean, both men were intent to size the other up. “Gordon,” 

Dean turned just in time to see Gordon smash a bottle against the table, holding up the jagged edges to the club owner’s face. Dean didn’t back down, his jaw ticking as he stood his ground. The music around them faded away as all eyes in the club had been drawn to the commotion. Even Jo stood watching with bated breath from the stage. 

“Hey,” Benny now stood at the entrance to the club, his gun resting in plain sight on his hip. He was flanked by Dean’s other right-hand man, Castiel, who also was accompanied by his piece. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” 

Gordon dropped the glass with a small nod from his boss, who stood then, taking his coat from Gordon and slipping it back on his shoulders. The three walked by Dean, all eyes on them as they made their exit. Fergus paused in front of Dean, looking out towards all the hesitant faces. “Thanks for the lovely evening.” He sneered before continuing out. 

Donna stopped to watch him return to her, letting him pass by out the door. Her gaze landed on Dean one last time and he couldn’t help but wonder if he detected something in her eyes this time. Was it fear? Or maybe it was a concern? Either way, it set Dean Winchester on edge, and that was not an easy feat. 

Dean followed them until the trio disappeared behind the doors, turning back around to his still silent club members. “Sorry ladies and gentlemen, round on the house!” Dean flourished his arm towards the stage. “Jo Harvelle!” He signaled towards the band to start up again, wanting nothing more than for the little scene with MacLeod to be over with. He took a deep breath as the attention turned back to his star performer. 

~

The Mercedes rolled to a stop outside MacLeod manor as a fog settled in the small town. 

“Give us a minute, Gordon.” Fergus caught the eye of his driver in the mirror and waited for him to exit the car. Donna turned her attention on the man, a confused tilt in her brow. Fergus took a deep breath and looked off out the opposite window. 

“I saw you making eyes at Dean tonight,” he stated. 

Donna forced a smile on her face and breathed out a chuckle, “I was doing nothing of the sort.” 

“I know what I saw, don’t make a liar out of me.” Fergus gripped her bicep in his stubby fingers, his nails digging into her soft flesh. The pair exchanged equally heated stares, Fergus with his teeth bared and Donna on the verge of tears. “You are only still alive right now because you have been useful to me. The second that changes, you are done. Now go to bed.” 

Fergus leaned over her to push open the car door. The blonde climbed out of the Benz without a word, her heart hammering deep in her chest. She knew his words were not just a veiled threat, but a promise. 

Gordon pushed open the gate as he pulled the toothpick from between his plumps lips, “I believe you, Donna, I know you only have eyes for me. Sweet dreams,” he sneered, taking it upon himself to smack her behind as she walked past him without comment. 

~

The crowd inside the Imperium was thinning as the night came to a close. Dean helped Garth out, making sure he headed in the right direction towards home before coming back inside. 

“Last chance,” Cassie purred as she walked up to the eldest Winchester, handing over her fur shawl to him. 

“Good night, Cassie,” Dean smiled as he helped her into her shall. “Oh and Cassie, those were nice days we had.”

“Sure they were,” she sighed. “Sorry I had to break your heart.” And with those teasing words, she was gone, her smile faltering as she exited the club. 

“Are you sure you can still handle your whiskey, Chief?” Benny came up behind Dean as he watched the dark-skinned woman go. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Why?” 

“Cause you just let Cassie Robinson walk out of here without paying her tab.” Benny held up the slip of paper to his boss, a quirk in his brow as he stared at the frowning man. Dean took the slip from between Benny’s fingers and ripped it in half. “Wow, I’ve been working with you for over ten years and I have never seen you tear up a bar tab.”

“Ah, she’s just down on her luck. Mark my words, Benny, someday Cassie Robinson is gonna change the world.” Dean patted his buddy’s shoulder and walked off to make sure his employees began their closing duties for the night. He slipped off his jacket as he set out to help clear the tables and go through some of the night's paperwork. He was leaning against the bar, rifling through his mail when the doors opened, revealing the long legs of Miss Hanscum. The club owner pushed off the bar and made his way to stop her before she could get too far inside. 

“Sorry, but we’re closed.” He breathed out as he came up the three stairs to the foyer. 

“I know,” she smiled. “My car broke down.” 

“Right, so you can lure me outside and Fergus and his goons can work me over.” Dean cocked his head, stopping a safe distance from the woman before putting his hands into his pockets. He straightened his shoulders. “No thanks.”

As Dean turned to leave, Donna raised her voice, “Fergus isn’t with me.” she cast her eyes down to where her feet were planted, the silver of the straps a sharp contrast to the dark tile below. Dean turned back to her, an incredulous look in his eye. He did not believe the lady standing in front of him. He had seen all too well with his own eyes the things that those two got up to. “Promise.”

The two stared at each other for a second, though it felt like minutes to Dean. Donna had a glint in her eye that was making his stomach churn, but there was something about the upturn in her smile that calmed the storm inside him. For some reason, he believed her. “Let me grab my coat.”

Donna led Dean outside to the street just in front of the Imperium as he slipped his hat onto his head. A sleek black Mercedes Benz was parked right against the curb, identical to all the others that the MacLeod legion used. He assumed it was a loaner for her. 

“Let me see what I can do, I’m not really the mechanic type,” He drawled as he lifted the hood to the car. The tall man bent over the engine, peering inside and fiddling with some things that seemed out of place to him. “The advancement of these things is amazing. How much did this set you back?” 

“Oh hundreds,” Donna leaned against the cool metal, watching as Dean’s white button-down stretched over the muscles of his arms. Dean smiled to himself, knowing damn well this woman next to him had no clue how much the car in front of him truly cost. “What about you? What do you drive?” 

“I don’t, not ready to give up on old fashion walking.” Dean turned to catch her eye as he finally succumbed to the fact that he truly had no idea what he was doing. A silence fell between the pair for only a moment before Donna spoke. 

“You know, no one has ever stood up to Fergus like that before,” Her words were nothing more than observation but even she couldn’t hide the curiosity that lingered beneath them. 

“That right?”

“Mhmm, and to be perfectly honest, I think that confrontation made him respect you. That’s how he judges people, you know, are they weak or are they strong? It’s his way.” Donna turned her back to where Dean was puzzling at the engine of the car, her gaze off in the distance down the road. 

“It’s not my way. I’m a kind man unless you give me a reason to be otherwise.” Donna turned to look at him as he stood up straight, seeing the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke. A bashful smile replaced his serious face, “I’m sorry, my Uncle Bobby was the mechanic in the family.” Dean reached above his head and closed the hood of the car. 

“It’s okay, leave it. But you wouldn’t mind a good old fashioned walk home, would you?” Donna mocked his earlier tone, offering him back his coat that she held in her arms. 

“Sure,” Dean slipped the coat on, stumbling over his next words. “I can do that, where do you live?” 

Donna peered behind her, her eyes going south down the main road in Lawrence. “That way.” 

“Alright,” Dean agreed, coming to walk next to her as the pair made their way down the street. 

The moon was high in the night sky as they made their way out of the sleeping town. There were no other pedestrians on the street as they reached the bridge on the outskirts of town, the last obstacle before leaving Lawrence. The string of lights hung along the white bridge, bringing the wooden walkway to life in the night. 

“I don’t know how I feel about the war,” Donna mused as Dean watched his feet moving against the aging wood. “I mostly just worry about our boys. I could fight you know, or be a nurse. What do you think?”

“I guess,” Dean hummed. Donna wanted more out of Dean than one-word answers. The man that had always been an enigma to the young blonde. He had taken up duty looking after his city when his Daddy died and he did it well. It was like she had said, no one had ever stood up to Fergus as he had, not even John Winchester.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” She blurted out, hoping to God that he didn’t leave her alone on that bridge in her idiocy. 

“I don’t think I know you well enough yet to say something like that.” 

“Well, you certainly don’t talk much yourself. Why would you agree to walk me home if you weren’t going to talk?” 

“Not much of the gabbing type.” Dean’s voice was even as the woman pushed him. Sure he had agreed to walk her home, but he wasn’t ready to open up his heart to the woman. After all, the only thing he was sure of was she worked for MacLeod. That meant that she was a threat. 

“What’s a girl got to do for some interesting conversation?”

“Fine,” Dean stopped his trajectory and adjusted the hat on his head. Donna continued on a half step before she noticed he had stopped. She turned to look at him, the deep look in his eyes making her smile falter. “Tell me, why do you associate yourself with a guy like MacLeod? He’s scum. Everybody knows the types of things he gets into. People disappear around him. And yet, you let him own you.” 

“Nevermind,” Donna husked out, a grimace now on her face. 

“Oh no, now you said you wanted to talk. Here I am walking you home, against his wishes I’m sure. I’d just like to know.” Dean shook his head at the woman as she attempted to evade the conversation she had started. 

“It’s a long story,” 

Dean looked off to the road ahead of them, “I’ve got time.”

“I was in love once, Doug was my whole life. But he was also an idiot... and a dog. He got into trouble with Fergus, money trouble, and I being a naive young lady threw myself on the fire to save him.” Donna admitted without hesitation. It felt better than she could ever explain to tell someone how far she had fallen. The pair continued towards their destination as she explained to him the turmoils of her life. 

“You’re a slave,” Dean stated.

“I’m an employee,” she tried to correct him but even she didn’t believe her own words. 

“Call it whatever you like, a dog is still a dog.” Dean was fighting every instinct in his body telling him to reach out and touch her, instead choosing to ball his hands up inside his pockets. 

“What is a girl supposed to do? I laid my life on the line for a man that ran off as soon as he thought he was free of me. I haven’t been free for most of my life.” Donna explained, the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. 

“I’m not sure if you expect me to help you with that,” Dean worried.

“I’ve made my bed, Dean. More than anything I need to feel the freedom of the wind in my hair, but I can’t expect anyone but myself to do that for me. I don’t need some-”

“You are,” Dean interrupted her tirade. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Earlier you asked me if you were pretty. You are.” The pair locked eyes as he said the words aloud. “But it’s your heart that makes you beautiful. 

“Thank you,” Dean couldn’t believe himself that he had blurted out that admission. In the small amount of time it took him to walk her home she had somehow wormed her way into his heart. Maybe he bled for her a little, understanding the loss she must have been feeling, or perhaps it was the fact that he now understood every action she had ever taken since walking into Fergus’ life. Donna was a fool, but she was not a cold-hearted person. “This is me.”

Both of them stopped outside the apartment on Main street. It was just as quiet in this town as it had been in Lawrence. “No one else knows that story about Doug, not in the whole world. Just me, him, and now you.” 

“I won’t say a word,” He promised. Donna gave him a soft nod back in thanks. “You know, there is a sign above the door in my club, it says ‘stay awhile, have a nightcap’. Maybe you and I could do that sometime?” 

“Have a nightcap?” 

“Whatever you’d like.” He mused. Donna and Dean shared playful smirks on their faces, both of them equally unsure of what had transpired though they may be for different reasons. But there was something stirring deep inside Dean’s belly, and he couldn’t have stopped his next words even if he had tried. “Would it be alright-”

“Shut up and do it already,” Donna chuckled and Dean had to shake his head at that. What more surprises could this woman possibly have in store for him tonight? 

He leaned into her, Donna meeting him halfway in a pressed kiss. It was short, but it left something burning inside him. “Good night, Donna.” 

Donna nodded, turning without another word to enter her home. Neither of them noticed Cassie Robinson in the shadows. 

~

Three cars were parked across the bridge just outside of town, their engines running, ready for a quick getaway. The lights from their headlamps are the only thing illuminating the night. 

“Just had to go snooping where you didn’t belong, kid. That’s what will get you killed.” MacLeod was standing in the middle of the bridge, eyeing up the scraggly reporter that was bound and stuck into a cement bucket. The henchman around him laughed at the horrendous snide, eager to appease their boss at whatever cost. 

“Stop it! What is this?” Fergus turned his head as Donna came rushing towards him. One of his henchmen moved to halt her advancement. “Get your hands off me,” She shoved him aside. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I followed you here. I had a feeling you were up to something, but I never fathomed…” Donna trailed off. Somewhere deep down she always knew the truly horrendous things Fergus got up to in the night, but she let herself believe it was all a lie so she could sleep at night. 

“What about you? How’s Dean doing, whore?” Donna stumbled back from his words as if they had physically assaulted her. 

“He killed John Winchester. I said I was on to something and I was right. He murdered him.” Garth spoke up from his confines, his mouth already bloodied. Fergus hollered to shut him up and the henchman obeyed, giving two swift punches to the gut. 

“Is that true?” 

“Go wait in the car!” Fergus ordered, but Donna was far too lost in her distraught, instead choosing to grab his arm.

“Is that true?!” She bellowed this time, only to be treated to a smack across her face. Donna stumbled on her heels, her hand coming up to wipe away the blood now on her lip. Fergus ordered her to the car again, looking back to his previous task. Donna took her opportunity and ran. She ran straight to the first person she could think of for help. 

Dean was preparing his club for the night’s festivities when she came barreling through the door. The clicking of her heels on the tile caught both his and Benny’s attention.

“They have Garth, they’re gonna kill him.” She blurted out. 

“What?”

“He found out that Fergus killed John.” Dean’s eyes went wide before his gaze was lost somewhere far off in the distance. “Dean I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” 

Dean was fishing for something under the bar before she could even try to explain herself. He pulled out a small gold box, flipping the lid open to reveal a single revolver. “Benny, go. Find Cas and get back here.”

“Chief, what are you doing?” 

“Let’s just go,” Donna whined. 

“Listen to her. Cas and I can handle this.” Benny tried to reason with his boss. 

“You’ll get hurt.” Donna tried again. 

“He hurt me when he took my father away from me. He’s hurt everybody, including you. He needs to be stopped once and for all.” 

“Oh, Dean,” Donna’s tears were making tracks in her makeup along her cheeks as she took in the one man that could help her even if she didn’t think that she needed it. 

Dean looked back at Benny, nodding for him to go before walking past Donna and out of the club. But they were too late. A car came towards them on either side of the road effectively blocking their escape plan. 

Gordon climbed from the car first, “Get over here, Donna.” He ordered. “Donna now!” 

“She’s with me.” Dean stood his ground, blocking Donna from the man now stalking towards them. Gordon laughed a good laugh before reaching for his pistol. Dean was faster on the draw, pulling the trigger of his revolver before Gordon even knew what had hit him. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking his gold shirt as it poured from his wound. Dean walked over, kicking Gordon’s dropped gun from his reach. 

“Why does everything always have to be so messy?” The sound of a car door closing had Donna and Dean snapping their attention to the other car. Dean aimed his gun at Fergus, unrelenting in his stance against the man. 

“Alright,” Fergus put up his hands and turned around, an evil smirk on his face. “Not even I would shoot a man in the back, Dean. That’s not true, I’ve shot several men in the back. Most of them deserved it, but I wouldn’t recommend you do it. Cause I have a surprise for you.” 

Dean’s attention was diverted to the car door opening again, this time revealing a grim Cassie Robinson. The confusion was all it took for Dean to let his guard down for a moment, giving Fergus ample time to reveal his own weapon. Dean was forced to relent, putting his hands up and dropping his gun. 

“That’s a good boy.” Fergus laughed. “Alright Miss Robinson. Finish your job and your debt is clear.” He sneered as he offered the gun in his hand to her. She took the metal weapon with shaking fingers, continuing to keep it pointed at Dean. 

“I’m sorry, Dean.” 

“Cassie, we’ve all had hard times. You don’t have to do this.” He was stepping backward away from where she was shaking. 

“Yes, I do. I should have done this a long time ago.” A smile etched itself across her face before she spun around and pulled the trigger on the weapon only to be met with thundering silence. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Fergus mused. He reached out and slapped Cassie, sending her barely onto the wet concrete below. Donna gasped as he turned back to her and Dean, another gun already in his hand. 

“If you want something done right-” The sound of the gun being fired rang out in the small city street. Benny threw himself onto Fergus in that same moment, not having enough time to draw his weapon before Fergus had discharged. Dean flung his weight towards his gun to point it at Fergus. Both Benny and Dean had him in their sights, guns trained on his head when a small whimper of Dean’s name had him spinning around. 

Donna stood there, clutching her abdomen where warm blood was now pouring out of. “Donna?” Dean reached for just as she collapsed, both of them falling to the ground. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He tried to reassure her as her eyes no longer focused on anything. “It’s okay, you are gonna be okay.” She was gasping as she looked up at him, her body fighting to live. 

“We are gonna leave, yeah, just you and me,” Dean had one hand pressed against her wound and the other was cradling her head, forcing her to look up at him as he spoke. “C’mon.”

Donna sucked in one last breath, uttering a soft exhaled “I love you,” up at the man cradling her in his arms. Dean dropped his head as the heavens opened up above him, letting down the rain that had been in the forecast all night. Her body was now limp in his arms and he no longer felt the need to fight the tears in his eyes. He leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes falling shut as he did so. 

“You’re free now, Donna.” He whispered to her before a sob racked his body. 

A hollered shout of his name had him snapping his head up, unaware of where the voice had come from. The thunder shook the world around before he heard it again. With the blink of his eyes, his little brother Sammy came into view, the world suddenly much brighter than it had been before. 

“Dude, why do you even agree to watch movies if you are gonna fall asleep?” Sam had kicked down the footrest of Dean’s lounger. He had to blink a few more times to allow his surroundings to come back to him, the credits of the black and white film Sam had chosen for movie night still playing on the television. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew you were gonna pic this boring shit.” Dean groaned, the reality now crashing over him. Sam frowned at his older brother before stalking off without cleaning up, leaving Dean to deal with the mess. 

The eldest Winchester rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. There was this emptiness in the pit of his stomach that the dream had left behind, a nagging feeling that he knew all too well. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t the first time Donna had found her way into his dreams, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

The hunter wasn’t exactly sure when it had all started. Time had always been hazy to him, but now as he found himself lucky to live another day, time was meaningless. Maybe it was then that the plucky sheriff from Minnesota had found her way into his heart. Dean had let his guard down a long time ago, and with it went the walls around his heart. Donna had a way about her that never failed to make him laugh, and she sure knew the storms raging in his head before anyone else. Donna was a badass and everything he could see himself needing in a woman. The only problem was that he couldn’t let himself have her. Not when the universe's largest target, God himself, was out for his blood. No, she deserved far better than a broken hunter who likely won’t even be able to save himself in the end. 

Dean stretched out his limbs as he climbed from his chair, his body creaking from years of abuse. The hunter couldn’t be bothered with what his brother had left in the movie room, instead, flipping the light off as he exited, his mind elsewhere as the black and white credits droned on in the now dark room.

Forevers: @polina-93​​ @22sarah08​​ @callmekda​​ @hobby27​​ @​tranquility-or-chaos​ @dawnie1988​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​  @akshi8278​ @superfanficnatural​ @malfoysqueen14​ @deanwanddamons​ @waywardbeanie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @talesmaniac89​ @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @flamencodiva​ @janicho88​ @anathewierdo​ @ellewritesfix05​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @lyarr24​

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

For the fandom meme: F, N, Q and W. :)

Thanks @nelavili for playing this ask game! :D  Love these ones!

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom: Let’s see, the longest is about...26 years now? And that would be The X-Files fandom. I grew up in love with Mulder and Scully’s story and MSR, and I will never not love them.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)  1) reblogs of fanfiction (yep, I’m going there. something’s happened on tumblr the past several years where writers get shafted with the sharing of stories. it royally sucks.)  2) more posts promoting the things people love about their fandom instead of the constant ship war posts. the ship war posts--pure drama--get more comments and reblogs than actual appreciation posts (metas, ask games, art, fics, discussions, etc.). I’m so over that.  3) more metas. i love reading the insights others come up with, i love seeing things that maybe I didn’t see before when creative metas are detailed. I miss those.

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why: see my answer here 

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships: Ohh, fun one!  Okay, fave ships: 1) Caryl - Carol & Daryl, TWD  2) MSR - Mulder & Scully, The X-Files 3) Philinda - Phil Coulson & Melinda May, Agents of Shield  4) Deonna/Winscum - Dean Winchester & Donna Hanscum, Supernatural5) Sully & Dr. Mike - Byron Sully & Michaela Quinn, Dr. QuinnAnd 5 kinks I like best:1) mutual pining--my gosh, give me alllllll the angst2) bed-sharing3) unexpected first kiss4) the simple taking care of each other trope, in whatever shape that takes for the duo of dummies5) being a badass with everyone in the world but being soft as satin with THAT PERSON 

Fandom Meme ask game

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance IV

Summary:  Dean and Donna pass a week of separation.

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warning:  Slightly adult themes.

IV

Donna texted him just before midnight, letting him know that they’d made it back to the hotel.  Her sister-in-law was wasted and had to be poured into bed, so Donna was going to stick around in case she got sick.  She was a good friend - kind and caring.  Dean couldn’t fault her for that.  The downside was that her plane was leaving early the next morning to take them back to Minnesota - she was dropping off her sister-in-law and hanging out with family for a week before she came back to the city for her release party.  

Dean told her to get some rest - he’d see her next week.

He dragged himself into bed late that night but couldn’t force himself to go to sleep.  His head was still buzzing, drunk with the memories of Donna pressed so close to him.  He thought of their kiss and his head spun, taking him right back to the moment he’d first tasted the sweetness of her lips and felt her hands on him.  She’d never done anything but shake his hand before that moment but kissed him like she’d been thinking about it for years.

Donna wanted him.

The thought was a drug and he was hooked, riding the high.  

At this rate he’d never sleep again.

-- X --

Work was harder than he thought it would be the next morning, which wasn't improved by the fact that it was a Saturday.  Dean still forced himself to sit down with his laptop, making peace with his lot.  An alarming number of chapters had piled up in his queue while he was pining over Donna the last few weeks.  None of his authors were making a fuss but he felt bad about it anyway, knowing they were too polite to give him hell.  It was his only task of the morning to try and get to his longest-neglected works.  

Dean worked through the morning and ate lunch at his computer, straining his eyes until he had a roaring headache.  He once again contemplated the need for reading glasses.  The thought made him grimace - he was too young for that, damn it.  He wasn’t even forty yet.

He was popping some painkillers and bemoaning his age when his phone buzzed from his desk.  Distracted, he perked up only when he realized that it was a message from Donna.  He pulled up the message and one eyebrow quirked up in confusion.  

It was a short excerpt of prose but it wasn’t Chloe or Dan.  

Donna dragged herself across the airport, tired to the point of falling over.  The early morning flight had seemed like a good idea until her idiot sister-in-law decided to go clubbing and fall off the wagon.  Donna was up holding her hair out of the toilet until two in the morning.  Their flight left at seven.  There was a chance she was in Hell.  The real one - not that vegan bakery she found in California.

Dean smirked and another message appeared.

The only thing propelling her tired behind through the crowd was her memories of the night before, her brain occupied with thoughts of candy apple green eyes and long legs.  Scruff the color of cinnamon, flecked with gold.  Mmm, cinnamon sounded good.  Every airport had a Cinnabon, right?  Hold on.

This time he laughed aloud, collapsing back into his chair and looking at the ceiling.  It was a few minutes before another message appeared.  

They totally had a Cinnabon.  

Donna was pleased at this turn of events.  With enough carbs she would be able to refrain from strangling the walking hangover next to her.  She had no intention of going down for murder - not today, anyway - so she ate the doughy roll of sugar in a few bites.  If she got an extra one in a to-go box it was a public service, thank you very much.  

Dean snorted.

Anyway, Donna was thinking about Dean.  About the way his full lips caressed the rim of his coffee cup and the way his tongue darted out in concentration while they spoke.  Watching him think was nothing short of pornographic.  Brows drawn, bottom lip between his teeth.  She was a few seconds away from fanning herself even now, with just the memory to keep her company.  Watching those lips in action was a burlesque show - feeling them on hers was another matter entirely.  The taste of him on her tongue turned her inside out.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his chair.  

Leaving was the last thing she’d wanted to do that night.  What she wanted was to pay the check, drag him out of there, and pin him against the side of that shiny black car in the parking lot.  She’d kiss him silly, until she couldn’t breathe and her head spun.  If her hands happened to wander, who could blame her?  And if the two of them happened to fall into the backseat, everyone would understand.  Really, just look at the guy.

She had no idea what he would have given for that.  Even now his hands itched to touch her again.  The image of Donna getting handsy with him against his beloved Baby was a daydream he would have to file away for future use.

When her phone rang she wanted to chuck it across the restaurant because she knew what it meant.  It meant walking away from the hunk of beefcake she’d been lusting after for years, just when she got her first taste.  The injustice of it all rendered her breathless.  Surely the universe wasn’t so cruel as to deprive her of him completely.  

Like hell, he thought to himself.  He typed a quick reply, not worrying about interrupting her train of thought.  

The next time I see you, you’re mine.  Hell or high water, sweetheart.

It was several long minutes before Donna replied, making him sweat.  Maybe he should have thought of something better.  He dove as soon as her name popped up on the screen.  

Donna read Dean’s message, the words making her swoon.  She had no choice but to collapse into a puddle in the middle of the airport.  Maintenance en route.  

Dean chuckled and put the phone aside, mouth stretched into a bright smile.  Donna wanted him.  Donna had wanted him for years, apparently.  The knowledge felt miraculous - too good to be true.  Chest tight, he read over her messages again.  Laughed harder, smile hurting his cheeks, wishing he could live in that moment for just a little while longer.  Then reality seeped back in the cracks and it was okay.  His headache had lessened and his work no longer seemed so oppressive.  Things were good.  

His world was better with Donna in it.  

-- X --

Donna sent more of the same messages over the next few days, all in the same narrative format.  They told him about her day, what she was thinking at any particular time.  She didn’t seem to require responses from him, which was good because he rarely knew what to say.  He would comment every so often just so she would keep going.  Mostly he was afraid that he would break the spell that had wound around him, keeping him walking on air.  Those texts had gone from amusing to a lifeline in a matter of days.  If he couldn’t have Donna, they were the next best thing.  

Donna woke with a smile on her face and the smell of breakfast in her nose.  The former because of a certain editor, and the latter because… wait.  Who was in her house?!

...

It was fine.  Donna’s mother had snuck in through the back door to surprise her with food.  Which was normal.  Mothers did that.  Right?

Not mine, Dean thought.  Though she did pick the lock on his front door once when she left her cell phone in his couch.

Donna told herself she wasn’t going to go hang out with Jody this trip.  It was a short one and she didn’t have time to do a five-day hangover recovery program.  But gosh, did she miss Jody.  They’d been best friends since middle school and Jody had a taste for trouble that Donna didn’t.  Drinking and getting matching tattoos kind of trouble.  She’d barely escaped last time, just before she’d drunkenly inked “party girl” into her thigh.  

Dean couldn’t imagine her with a tattoo.  At all.  But then he really wondered if she had one and filed that question away for later.  

The next day Donna was determined to work.

The blank page stared, mocking.  Chloe and Dan were in serious need of resolution but their creator was distracted.  Something to do with her editor, but they didn’t know that.  They only knew that Dan’s wound was infected and they needed to kill the monster and get him to a hospital. He might get sepsis and die at this point.

Poor Dan, he thought.  Tough break.

This was all Dean’s fault.  It might be his fault that Dan existed at all, so when her characters came to life as vengeful fictional spirits they could haunt him first.  

Dean scoffed and replied, Is that a confession?  

A few minutes later she replied, Donna had to go sorry bye.

They spent the week that way, Donna sending prose and Dean sending back snarky comments to keep her going.  He read her messages in between edits, using them as rewards for getting actual work done.  Donna bought books with her mother.  Cooked with her dad.  Got caught texting him under the dinner table, after which her phone was taken away because they didn't buy her telling them it was for work.  It didn’t seem to matter that she was in her thirties.  

She did, in fact, go out with Jody.  

She was, in fact, hung over afterwards.  

It must have been pretty bad because the only thing she sent him the next day was:

Diagnosis: Acute alcohol poisoning.

Cause: Jody effing Mills.

Prognosis: Leave me here to die.

She must have been down for the count because he didn't hear anything else until the next afternoon, when she narrated making travel plans to come back for her release party.  Chloe Ransom’s fifth adventure had hit the shelves the week before and was already a success, leading her publisher to throw her a party to celebrate.  Any other author would have basked and preened but not Donna.  Donna had to take good news and turn it into a death sentence.

Donna finished an email to her stylist and sighed, nerves already mounting.  Her skin prickled in anxiety and all her worst nightmares started springing up in her mind, all in excruciating detail.  Writing was one thing but those people might want her to talk. Out loud. In front of an audience.  What the heck was that about?  

Her fear of public speaking wasn't news to him. Donna had been actively avoiding speaking engagements for years.  She personally felt as though they should just hire an actress to be Chloe so she could come and speak in character, leaving Donna out of it completely.

What if she stuttered?  Or passed out?  Or got sick!  Mary and Joseph, she'd never live that down.  It would wind up on YouTube and that would be it.  End of story.  There goes that writer lady - she tossed her cookies all over her publishers and never wrote again.  

Dean smirked as he walked to his car, finally done for the night.  He replied, That's not going to happen.

Dean didn't know.  He wasn't psychic, but the gesture was appreciated.  

I could be psychic.  You never know.

She did know.  If Dean were psychic all these years it wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures to get his attention.  He would have heard her every depraved thought through a megaphone, straight into his brain.  Donna would have seen the smoke coming from his ears, because she really did have a terrific imagination.

Dean’s eyes crinkled as he smirked. Were you having unprofessional thoughts about me?

Donna would confess to nothing, but the images sprouted up behind her eyes anyway.  Would he ever know the kinds of thoughts she’s had about him over the years?  The sheer number would probably horrify him.  Climbing into his lap on the couch along the back wall of his office, praying no one walked in as she ran her fingers through his tousled hair.  Or looking up at him through her lashes from under his desk as her fingers found the clasp of his belt.

He cleared his throat.  Those are definitely not professional.

You asked, she replied, dispensing with the narration for the first time since they started texting a few days ago.  Dean laughed and sent his reply before putting his phone down and pulling into traffic.

I did.  

Are you coming to the release party?

I always do.  

Maybe don’t bring a date tomorrow?

Dean stopped at a light, smile threatening to break across his face.  If he didn’t know any better Donna was asking him out.  What she didn’t know was that he’d never brought a date to one of her events.  He’d always been afraid that whatever woman he brought would take one look at him near her and figure it out.  The fact that he was crazy about her would have been written across his face.

Maybe I don’t.  What if I find one there?

That’s the idea, handsome.

Dean drove the rest of the way home with a smile on his face and happy anticipation buzzing in his ears.  

He wanted Donna.

Donna wanted him.

They had a date tomorrow night.  

He whistled through dinner, sang while he did the dishes, and still couldn’t bring himself to go to sleep until after midnight.  

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Anybody else notice Dean didn’t react until Chuck mentioned Donna? Cause I did...

[just-another-busy-fangirl]

After The Case is Over?

Another fic for my SPN Kink Bingo Card and Kink List (98), requested by @feelmyroarrrr

Square Filled: Handcuffs Ship: Dean x Donna Rating: Mature Tags: Dean getting turned on by rough Donna, promises of more fun to come Summary: Dean surprises himself and Donna with how much he enjoys being handcuffed, promising for good times later. Word Count: ~700 Written/Created for @spnkinkbingo

It’s just part of the plan, all part of the plan… was the mantra going through Dean’s mind as Donna shoved him against her sheriff’s jeep, hard enough that he bounced a bit on impact.  If his ears hadn’t been ringing so loudly he would have heard her thank the shapeshifter who had taken the place of an officer from the next town over.

Yes, that was the plan, Dean reminded himself.  He was getting arrested, placing him inside of the station so that he could work from the inside, Sam and Donna coming at the shifter from the outside.

Part of the plan, he thought to himself even more forcefully when the cold cuffs were snapped on his wrists.  He had to bite his lip to hold back a groan, feeling the way Donna was pressed against him.  Fuck, she felt good.

And the cuffs did, too.

Donna manhandled him a bit, yanking him away from the car by pulling at his now cuffed hands.  Dean’s head hung down, hoping that if he seemed compliant, Donna (and the shifter) would just put him in the jeep and get going.  Wishful thinking, right?

Donna’s left hand was holding his shoulder while her right hand kept ahold of the chain between his hands, jostling him around a bit with power.  She and the shifter were still talking, but he wasn’t listening to that.

He was feeling the way the cuffs were biting into his skin, the way Donna was controlling his every move, the way he was completely helpless…

Well, actually, he was Dean Winchester, so of course he could have gotten out of the cuffs if he’d really wanted to.  But for the first time in his life, he couldn’t imagine getting himself out a pair of handcuffs, getting himself out of his helpless situation.

He wanted to be in the cuffs, and he wanted Donna to be the one cuffing him.

Ah, finally – the shifter was walking back to his cruiser and getting in…and Donna was leading Dean to the back door of her jeep.

“Alright there, Dean-o?” she asked, opening the door for him.  She was still putting on the show of pushing him around – the shifter was still right there – but it wasn’t quite as rough as before.

Dean missed it.

He didn’t respond, sitting in the seat when she pushed him in.  “Dean?” she asked again, a slight twinge of concern in her voice.  Dean met her eyes, trying to keep his inner turmoil to himself.

“Are the cuffs too tight?” she asked, trying to figure out what was wrong.  “I can’t take them off now, did I hurt you?  I’ll loosen them as soon as the bastard’s out of sight-“

“No,” Dean interrupted, obvious arousal in his voice.  Donna’s eyes widened.  “Don’t want you to take the cuffs off, Donna.”

The two of them were silent for a period of time, understanding shared between them.  Dean shifted in the seat of the car, Donna still standing outside the door.  Her eyes were drawn to his lap where she could clearly see the outline of his erection.

Donna gulped.

“Maybe, ah…” Dean thought over his words.  “Maybe you can get the cuffs out again…after the case is over?”

Dean let his invitation hang in the air between them, unsure of how Donna would feel about his proposition. This was completely new territory, he was definitely taking a risk bringing it up.  He shouldn’t have said anything, oh God what if she thinks he’s a freak –

“You betcha, Dean.  We can definitely get those suckers out later, just you and me.”

The confidence in Donna’s voice went straight to Dean’s groin, the man surprised at how excited he was for Donna to take control of him in a more…intimate way.

“Let’s get the hell done with this case, then,” he insisted, motioning with his head for Donna to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.  She stared at him for a split second before jumping into action, just as eager as Dean was.

This would be one hell of a night, that’s for sure.

Forever Tag

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[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

Dean and Donna: Little Things

I thought this was too cute! The idea is to take your ship and answer the “who would” questions. Thank you @jessica-bones-winchester for tagging me in this and suggesting I give my thoughts on my favorite couple. I loved the thought of the little things about Dean and Donna’s relationship that might not come out in a fic, but are still a part of who they are as a couple. The list comes from here.

who would be the one to randomly adopt a puppy without consultation

Donna. She always wanted a puppy and Doug didn’t. After the divorce, she kept meaning to get one, but things kept coming up - vampires, haunted costumes, Dean. But one of these days, she was getting that puppy, and by golly, Dean would love it whether he wanted to or not.

who would force the other to take aesthetic pictures of them

Donna. Not because she likes to see herself in a photo (she doesn’t) but because every second with Dean is important to her and she wants to remember them all.

who would do stuff they think is stupid just to make the other one happy

Dean. If Donna wants to do it, then he’ll do it. He only wants to make her happy and if that means going to look at Christmas lights in the freezing cold or dressing up as Indiana Jones to go to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark, well, he’ll do it. Because he wants to see her smile.

who picks out the horror movies to watch just so the other will cling to them

Dean. He’d never really been into horror movies, not when he knew what was really out there, but Donna loves them. He agreed to watch them with her, but he got to pick them out. The scarier, the better. Because it rarely took more than five minutes for her to be scooting closer to him, burying her face in his shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, giggling and squealing every time something scary happened, getting closer and closer until she was basically sitting in his lap. They rarely made it to the end of the horror movie.

who is constantly studying and who is constantly trying to distract them

Donna. Ever since learning about Dean’s world and the things that live in it, Donna has devoured everything she can get her hands on related to the supernatural. She even read the Carver Edlund books (though Dean doesn’t know that). But when Dean’s around, he makes it really hard to concentrate on anything other than him. Not that she wanted to.

who initiates the facetime calls whenever they’re separated

Donna. Sometimes she just needs to see him, even more than she needs to hear his voice, see him so she knows he’s in one piece. That little smile, the crinkles around his eyes, the dimples she loves so much. She has to see him to know he’s alive.

who is more likely to storm out after a fight and who is more likely to cry when they do

Dean is more likely to be the one to storm out after a fight. Sometimes he just needs a minute, a second to pull his head out of his ass and relax. He knows he has a temper, knows that he can be the most stubborn person on the planet. Walking away after a fight keeps him from saying something stupid to the woman he loves. Donna on the other hand, will almost always cry when he storms off. She hates it when they fight, she always feels responsible, feels like it’s her fault, and Dean leaving terrifies her, because she is convinced that one of those times, he won’t come back.

who stays up way too late binge-watching their favorite shows

Dean. He’ll stay up half the night catching up on Game of Thrones, bingeing The Walking Dead, or one of those superhero shows. He knows he should get some sleep, but sometimes, he just has to know what is going to happen. Donna would stay up with him, but inevitably, she would fall asleep, her head on a pillow or in his lap, the blanket from the back of the couch thrown over her.

who bites the other’s ear when they’re feeling frisky

Dean. He figured out completely by accident that nibbling on Donna’s ear was a sure fire way to rev her engine. She’d giggle and try to pull away, while leaning into him at the same time. He knew just what she liked and exactly how to get her going.

who sprays the other with water when they’re washing the car

Dean. There’s nothing like getting Donna wet to put a smile on his face.

who has more fun decorating the house during holidays

Donna. She goes a little crazy. Or maybe a lot crazy. But Dean secretly loves it, even when he’s tripping over stuffed Christmas bears, or being forced to help stuff candy in stockings. If Donna is happy, so is Dean.

who is more likely to give the silent treatment when they’re mad at the other

Dean. He keeps his mouth shut so he doesn’t say something he’ll regret, something he won’t be able to take back. He doesn’t want to hurt her with senseless words thrown out in haste. Better to lock it down than fuck it up.

who plays with the others’ hair more

Dean. It’s an absentminded thing, twirling her hair around his fingers as they watch TV, running his fingers through it when he’s kissing her, burying his nose in it when they make love. He loves her hair, how soft it is, how sweet it smells, how it curls around her face when it falls from her ponytail. He can’t help but touch it.

who is more likely to climb all over the other one when they’re bored

Donna. She can’t help herself. She has to touch him, remind herself that he’s real, that he’s there, that he’s her’s. She’ll crawl in his lap, wrap her arms around him, anything to get as close as possible to him.

who tries to kiss the other as often as they can

Dean. He loves kissing Donna, loves the feel of her lips moving with his, loves the taste of her - the cherry chapstick she uses, the lingering taste of minty gum. He loves the way she lets out these little sighs, or how she sometimes moans into his mouth, her fingers digging in and pulling him close. He could kiss her forever.

who initiates the sex

Dean. That’s not to say that Donna doesn’t, but Dean knows it makes her uncomfortable to be the one to initiate sex, after all this time she’s still scared he’ll reject her. So more often than not he takes the lead. Of course, if he had his way, he and Donna might never leave the bedroom. She knows that, just like she knows that sometimes when Dean is kissing her, pulling off her clothes, that it’s because he knows it’s what she wants, maybe even what she needs, and he’s just doing what she can’t.   

who always forgets the umbrella and who holds it when they actually have one

Donna always forgets the umbrella. She is always leaving it in her desk drawer at work, tucked under the seat of her car, or in the mudroom at home. On those few occasions when they have one, Dean holds it. He’s taller, so it doesn’t smack him in the head like it does when she holds it.

who demands showering first in the mornings

Donna. Except she doesn’t demand it necessarily, she just insists on using it first, especially when they’re at her place. Dean tends to use all the hot water, justifying it by explaining that he never gets a hot shower in the crummy motels he stays at. She starting setting an alarm so she’d be up and in the shower first.

who sneaks into the shower with the other one in the mornings

Dean. Donna might get to the shower first, but that just means he gets to do his favorite thing, sneak in with her. He slips in behind her, his hands sliding over her wet body, pushing her hair off her shoulder so he can kiss her bare skin, squirting soap into his hands so he can run his hands over the curves he loves so much, caress every inch of her. She doesn’t know that he lets her get in the shower first.

who will text the other one thirty times in a row until they respond

Dean. Especially when they’re apart. He’ll text her, and if she doesn’t answer, he’ll text her again. He worries about her, worries too much, thanks to that damn Djinn, and the demon in Wyoming. He knows it makes him look possessive, if you’re on the outside looking in, but he knows, and Donna knows, that when you love someone, when you find someone, someone you never thought you’d have, that love manifests in ways not everyone understands. She knows the truth, she knows what’s in Dean’s heart. He can text her a million times if it makes him feel better.

who always forgets to charge their phone overnight

Donna. She’ll toss it on the table beside the charger, but she forgets to plug it in, at least three or four times a week. Which is one of the reasons Dean has to text her dozens of times before he gets an answer. Hard to answer a text message from a dead phone.

who comes up behind the other and slide their hands into their back pockets

Dean. He loves Donna’s ass, especially in her favorite pair of jeans, so it’s nearly impossible for him to keep his hands to himself. He’ll walk up behind her, push her hair off of her neck so he can kiss her, then he’ll turn her around, pull her tight against him, sliding his hands into the back pockets of her jeans, squeezing gently. She always giggles, tries to push him away, but it isn’t serious, it’s halfhearted at best, a game they play. Two kisses in and her hands are in his back pockets, squeezing his ass.

who is louder and who constantly has the tell the other to be quiet

Donna is the loud one. When they’re at her place, Dean doesn’t care, in fact, the more noise she makes, the more it fires him up. She gets embarrassed, blushing, which he loves, her cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of pink. She swears she can’t help herself, it’s because of the things he does to her. When they’re at the bunker, Sam a few doors away, he’ll try to shush her, even though it usually ends with him laughing, and Donna giggling, and Sam pounding on the door, begging them to keep it down. The next morning she’ll barely be able to look Sam in the eye, and her face will be tinged a permanent shade of pink.

Dean and Donna Tags: @mamapeterson @sweetmisseddreams2002 @katnharper @ultimatecin73 @thebunkerismyhome @deathswaywardson @chrisatplay @geekylibrarian24 @jessica-bones-winchester @winchesterswoonathon @for-the-love-of-dean @tonifish @nichelle-my-belle @torn-and-frayed @ksgeekgirl @missandmrsgalxy @prettyboydean @tia58 @nerdyplantbasednurse @madamelibrarian @icantthinkofaname-oops @bringmesomepie56 @waywardjoy @iwriteshortstuff @piratedaydreams @that1seniorchick @starswirlblitz @pizzarollpatrol @lazairahel @hidingfrommychildren @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @district12-erudite @castiel-angelofthelord @misswhizzy @deansdirtywhore @wonderless-screwup @downworlder--impala @superbluhoo2 @deandoesthingstome @jencharlan @feelmyroarrrr @okay-okay18 @spnbrennafae @rattyretro-blog-blog @ladyroche @climbthatmooselikeatree @rizlow1 @smoothdogsgirl @mischief-maker1 @winchesterprincessbride @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @sckslife @sis-tafics @youwerelikeadream @i-dream-of-dean @oriona75 @writingbeautifulmen @meeshw777 @mrswhozeewhatsis @gemini75eeyore @vote-for-pedro @tom-is-in-my-tardis @percywinchester27 @atc74 @chelseafartnoise @missbeccamay @findingfitnessforme @tas898 @munroe-foster @goofynerd-67babylove @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @gallxntdean

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

Salt and Burn

Title: Salt and Burn

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Summary: Dean and Donna go on a simple salt and burn.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Word Count: 1764

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of blood

Author’s Notes: Thank you to @feelmyroarrrr for the idea. She’s utterly amazing at coming up with Dean and Donna ideas. Expect to see more.

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

“That was exhausting,” Donna sighed, tossing the shovel over her shoulder. She put her foot in Dean’s hands and let him boost her out of the grave, then she reached down and took his hand, helping him to climb out. “And gross.” She nodded at the pile of skeletal remains in the coffin. “Hard to believe that pile of goo is causing all this trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s the pile of goo,” Dean chuckled. “The pile of goo and these baby teeth.” He rattled the small jar in his hand and tossed into the grave. “We’ll salt and burn it, then head back to the motel, wait and see if things go back to normal.” He pushed himself to his feet, dropped a kiss to the top of Donna’s head, and grabbed the can of gasoline. He set it down beside her and nudged her with his foot.

“Let’s go, gorgeous,” he murmured. “No sitting on the job.”

Donna sighed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing her hands off on her jeans. She grabbed the salt while Dean poured gasoline over the corpse. As she turned, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement. She reached for the iron crowbar Dean had given her, but she wasn’t quick enough. The entity hit Dean, sending him flying, crashing into a headstone, falling in a heap, his leg twisted awkwardly beneath him.

“Dean!” she yelled.

“Burn it!” he replied, throwing the book of matches towards her.

She scooped it up and raced back to the grave, flinging the salt over the gasoline soaked corpse. She heard a gunshot behind her, making her flinch. Another gunshot, a few feet to her left, the ghost disappearing as Dean’s salt rounds hit it. She lit a match, then sparked the others, setting the entire book aflame before dropping it in the grave. She jumped back as the flames licked up the side, watching in awe as the ghost that had been coming for her disappeared in a flash.

She breathed a sigh of relief, even as she hurried to Dean’s side, dropping to her knees beside him.

“Shit, Dean, are you alright,?” she mumbled, tucking her arm under him and helping him to his feet. She got a good look at the jagged piece of wood sticking out of the ground, wood with blood on it.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, wincing painfully when he tried to put weight on his right foot. Two steps and he was down, hitting the ground, cursing like a sailor the second he hit.

“You’re not fine,” Donna snapped. “For pete’s sake, you can’t even walk.” She eased herself under him, pulling his arm over her shoulder, half helping, half dragging Dean to the Impala parked on the far side of the cemetery. She had to stop a couple of times to catch her breath.

“Forget crossfit, I’m just gonna drag your ass around a cemetery a couple of times a week,” she grumbled.

Dean chuckled and muttered something about being fine and her just being stubborn. Donna ignored him. She chanced a glance down at his leg, inwardly groaning at the sight of his blood-soaked jeans. He was definitely not fine.

Once they reached the Impala, Donna propped Dean against the side of it and reached for the passenger side door.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she said. “I’m helping you into the car.”

“On the wrong side,” he scoffed. “Help me around to the driver’s side.”

“Um, no,” Donna shook her head. “Look at your leg, Dean. You’re not driving anywhere.”

“So who’s gonna drive?” He seemed confused.

“You’re losing too much blood, Winchester. Your brain isn’t functioning properly,” she muttered. “I’m driving.”

He opened his mouth and she knew he was going to argue, use some lame ass excuse to keep her from driving his Baby. She knew how possessive he was of his damn car, knew that he hated to let anyone, even Sam, drive it. She’d never even sat behind the steering wheel. Not once.

“Donna -”

“Don’t say it, Dean,” she cut him off. “Not if you know what is good for you.” She yanked open the door and pointed at the seat. He limped along the car, holding the roof to keep himself steady, then he lowered himself inside. He pulled the keys from his jacket pocket and held them out to her. Reluctantly.

She leaned down, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and kissed him. “I’ll be right back.” She slammed the door and hurried back into the cemetery. Fifteen minutes later, she was back at the Impala. She opened the trunk and deposited everything inside - shovels, gas can, the crowbars. She took a minute to catch her breath, running a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, before slamming the trunk and moving around the car to the driver’s side. She willed her hands to stop shaking before dropping inside.

Dean was sprawled across the seat, head on his jacket, leaning against the window, eyes half closed. She thought he was asleep until he spoke.

“We good, gorgeous?” he mumbled.

“We’re good,” she replied. “How’s the leg?”

“Hurts,” he muttered, wincing as he shifted.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes,” she said. “Can you hold out a little longer?”

“I’ll survive,” he nodded. “Just be careful with my car.”

Donna chose to ignore his comment, instead she started the Impala and flipped on the radio, turning the volume up so she wouldn’t have to listen to Dean comment on her driving. She eased down the winding roads of the cemetery, taking her time, getting a feel for the powerful, black car. It was huge, she felt like she was driving a tank, and maneuvering the corners was interesting; it was definitely different than driving her police cruiser, that was for sure. By the time she reached the main road back to town, she was feeling pretty confident, accelerating quickly, cruising the road a couple of miles over the speed limit.

To her surprise, Dean hadn’t commented once on her driving. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, expecting him to be asleep. He was still lying against the door, head on his jacket, but he was watching her, a smile on his face.

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She always got flustered when Dean looked at her like that, like she was the most important thing in his world, like the only thing that mattered to him was her. She didn’t know what to say, or how to act.

“Stop staring at me,” she whispered, staring at the road.

“I like staring at you,” Dean chuckled. “Especially when you blush.”

“You’re making me blush by staring at me,” she shook her head. “Knock it off.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, but she did notice that he turned his head and looked out the window, only glancing her way every now and then.

“You’re doing fine, you know,” he said after a few minutes, so quietly she almost missed it. “You can drive my Baby any time.” When she glanced over at him, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even.

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the motel parking lot, taking up two spots. She was out of the car before Dean had moved, rushing to open the door before he could. He groaned as she helped him from the car, and this time, he didn’t argue when she put an arm around him and helped him inside.

He fell to the bed, pulled a pillow under his head, one arm thrown over his eyes, grunting incoherently when Donna tried to talk to him. She left him alone, for a few minutes anyway, while she grabbed the first aid kit and some towels and washcloths from the bathroom. She sat on the bed by his feet and eased off his boots, then she unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them down, wincing when she finally got a good look at Dean’s leg.

He had a jagged four or five inch gash on his calf, deep, deeper than she’d thought. It was going to need stitches, that was for damn sure. She moved his leg, adjusting it so she could clean it. She kept an eye on Dean as she wiped the dried blood from it, grimacing every time he did, biting the inside of her mouth to keep quiet.

“Does it need stitches?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” she replied. “A few.”

It took her nearly twenty minutes to get the stitches in, a feat she was surprised to accomplish in such a short time. Dean barely moved, something she wasn’t surprised about, not with the number of scars covering his body. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Once she had finished, had the wound bandaged, she was finally able to relax, blowing out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She left Dean to rest while she cleaned up, first the implements of her work as a doctor, then herself, running the water as hot as she could stand it, scrubbing the blood from her hands, and the smoky corpse smell from her hair and skin. She didn’t get out of the shower until the water ran cold.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, it looked like Dean was asleep, lying on his side, the blankets pulled up to his chin. Donna smiled to herself, finished putting her still damp hair in a bun on the top of her head, clicked off the light, and climbed into the bed beside Dean.

He wasn’t asleep; the second her head hit the pillow he was wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He rained kisses over her face, his hand sliding beneath her shirt, warm on her bare skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” she asked.

“Taking care of me, taking care of my Baby,” he replied. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m pretty sure I love you even more now than I did before.”

“Yeah?” Donna giggled.

“You did great with her,” Dean said. “It was kinda hot.” He caught her lips in his, kissing her for a long time, both of them breathless when they broke apart.

She melded herself to him, humming in the back of her throat, her arms sliding around his neck, her fingers running through his hair, her face pressed to the side of his neck. They stayed like that until sleep caught up with them.

Dean and Donna Tags: @mamapeterson @sweetmisseddreams2002 @katnharper @ultimatecin73 @thebunkerismyhome @deathswaywardson @chrisatplay @geekylibrarian24 @jessica-bones-winchester @winchesterswoonathon @for-the-love-of-dean @tonifish @nichelle-my-belle @torn-and-frayed @ksgeekgirl @missandmrsgalxy @prettyboydean @tia58 @nerdyplantbasednurse @madamelibrarian117 @icantthinkofaname-oops @bringmesomepie56 @waywardjoy @iwriteshortstuff @piratedaydreams @that1seniorchick @starswirlblitz @pizzarollpatrol @lazairahel @hidingfrommychildren @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @district12-erudite @castiel-angelofthelord @misswhizzy @deansdirtywhore @wonderless-screwup @downworlder--impala @superbluhoo2 @deandoesthingstome @jencharlan @feelmyroarrrr @okay-okay18 @spnbrennafae @rattyretro-blog-blog @ladyroche @climbthatmooselikeatree @rizlow1 @smoothdogsgirl @mischief-maker1 @winchesterprincessbride @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @sckslife @sis-tafics @youwerelikeadream @i-dream-of-dean @oriona75 @writingbeautifulmen @meeshw777 @mrswhozeewhatsis @gemini75eeyore @vote-for-pedro @tom-is-in-my-tardis @percywinchester27 @atc74 @chelseafartnoise @missbeccamay @findingfitnessforme @tas898 @munroe-foster @goofynerd-67babylove @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @gallxntdean