#dean winchester x

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Husband Effect

Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff

A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!

__________

“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”

“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”

“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.

“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”

“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.

“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.

“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”

“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.

“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”

“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”

“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”

“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.

“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”

“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.

“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”

“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.

“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“Please hurry Sam.”

One Week Later

“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”

“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”

“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.

“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”

“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”

“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 

“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”

“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.

“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.

“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”

“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”

“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 

“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”

“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”

“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”

“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”

“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.

“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.

“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”

“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 

“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.

“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”

“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”

“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”

“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”

“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”

“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“

“I do feel loved,” said Dean.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.

“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”

“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.

“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”

“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.

“Cool with it?” you asked.

“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”

“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.

“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”

One Year Later

“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”

“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”

“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.

“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.

“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”

“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”

“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”

“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.

“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”

“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.

“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.

“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”

“You got something special planned?” you asked.

“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”

“You read my mind.”

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[deansapplepie]

deansapplepie’s Masterlist

What I’m writing ✍️

About me (soon)

Angst - 🍁 Fluff - 🪷 Smut - 🥵

Daryl Dixon

Till THE DEAD do us part Series Masterlist 🍁🪷🥵

I don’t believe in colors… (Soulmate AU) 🍁

Inherited Masterlist (Cowboy AU) 🍁🪷🥵

Everything with you, everything from you 🥵

The Spitting Image Series Masterlist 🍁🪷(?)

Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart 🍁

Period . 🪷🍁

Do I look like I wanna laugh? 🥵

Drabbles & Blurbs

All you needed 🪷🍁

A piece of meat 🥵

That’s the least I could do for ma girl 🪷

I would never let you in pain 🪷 (?)

Remus Lupin

Soon…

Events

Marchweres Event

@marchweres by @lazyneonrabbitt

Day 1 - 2: Full Moon, Shapeshifting, Predator-Prey (Daryl Dixon x Reader) 🥵

Day 3: The Bite, Mating Bite(Daryl Dixon x Reader)🥵

Day 4 - 5: Cursed, Finding Out (Remus Lupin x Reader)🍁🪷

Day 6: Wet Dog (Daryl Dixon x Reader)🪷

Day 7: Hunting (Daryl Dixon x Reader)🪷

Day 8: Loyal (Daryl Dixon x Reader) 🍁(?)

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 1

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, GLOW AU, self-worth issues, implied smut (reader x unknown dude 🤷‍♀️), cheating, Sam and Dean are not related in this story (--> check the series masterlist for overall warnings!)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Truthfully, I wasn’t gonna share it because it was just a fun, silly project to get over some writer’s block (which I did!). Netflix never gave me an ending to this amazing show, so I wanted to write my own, y’know? But hey, it’s already written, so why not share it with the class, right? As my awesome cheerleader on this project @panicking-outside-the-disco said, the dilaogue screams Dean AU 🖤 (Thank you so much for your encouragement, bestie!) Fellow fans of the show, you’ll be happy to know I kept all the good stuff in there, from Steel Horse to pink, frosted donuts. Everyone else will make sense of those words soon enough. So, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this nostalgic love tribute, and let’s give ourselves a decent ending, shall we? 🤩

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

1. Holding Out For A Hero

Another failed audition.

Moving from Nebraska to Los Angeles at the sweet age of eighteen, Y/N has played the Hollywood game for quite some time. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-seven by La-La Land standards, she only has little to show for herself, though. She’s had a few background roles and starred in a handful of low-budget plays, but her big breakthrough, the role that changes everything, still remains a hopeless and seemingly unreachable daydream.

Worst of all, she is sick and tired of the simple and reduced roles Hollywood forces upon its actresses. She wants more than the shitty role of the secretary who tells a powerful man his wife is on the phone. Y/N wants a real part instead of playing second fiddle to yet another pompous dick.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After her latest failure, she even became so desperate she hid in a bathroom stall for three hours before ambushing her casting director Josie while the poor woman was fucking peeing. But instead of the customary, unexplained rejection, Y/N wanted to hear reasons this time. She wanted to find out why she always gets pushed over for someone else, wanted to know if she could do something better, for crying out loud.

Usually, it’s the agent’s job to tell an actor all the reasons why they were wrong for the role, but she doesn’t even have an agent anymore because, as it bitterly turns out, everyone stops fucking caring about you if you haven’t worked in over two years. For once, though, she wanted some goddamn feedback.

The casting director’s response?

“Look Y/N, every director I work with says, ‘Get me someone I don’t know. Someone I haven’t seen. I want a girl who’s real.’ That’s when I bring you in, so they can see that they don’t actually want the thing they think they want. It’s 1985. Everyone wants Jane fucking Fonda. I’m sorry, honey… But listen, I have some experimental projects in the Valley, if you’re interested. Would you consider doing erotica?”

So, fucking porn. That’s where she’s at with her life.

Defeatedly, Y/N leaves the casting office in West Hollywood once more and gets swallowed by the city’s filth, lost between hellfire and demons. No matter what she does, she never feels like it’s enough. Each audition, you throw yourself against the wall and hope, this time, it’ll stick. It’s an endless game, a gamble of hope – hope isn’t an infinite resource, though, and hers is running out.

Y/N likes getting tortured. That’s the conclusion she’s come to. And because she seems to thrive on torment, she joins her best friend Joanna for a Jazzercise class – aka a room full of toned women in leotards, sweatbands, and leg warmers. The two friends have known each other since middle school and have done everything together since then, including their move to the big city. Joanna is a blonde bombshell who immediately got a role on a popular soap until she quit acting and had a baby a couple of months ago. Now, she’s a housewife and mother in Pasadena while her husband brings home the money.

Y/N loves Joanna, but admittedly, the blonde sometimes makes her feel small and insecure. She doesn’t have the big tits, the perfect curves, or the shiny hair. Jo has always been more successful than her in every aspect of their respective lives, the friendly competition leaving Y/N, more often than not, with a bad aftertaste in her mouth. She constantly tries to keep her envy in check, though, even when the blonde’s boobs exploded during their freshman year of high school. Simply put: Joanna is a sparkling diamond, while Y/N feels like a dirty lump of coal next to her.

The cheer captain versus the theater geek.

“You know, I’d actually do porn if it had a good story. Like, Shakespeare porn,” Y/N half-heartedly jokes as the women change in the locker room after their class.

Jo arches an eyebrow at her, the smile on her lips a bit condescending. “C’mon, Y/N, would you actually do porn, though? You hate being naked in front of people.”

“Things have changed since you disappeared,” Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her voice laced with rebellion, and purposely changes out of her leotard in front of her friend to drive the point home. She also tries not to sound too bitter about the fact that the blonde basically abandoned her after getting married and pushing a human out of her vagina. She knows her jealousy is silly. It’s just part of life. That’s how it goes. It wasn’t always going to be them vs. the world forever.

“I didn’t disappear. I had a baby,” Jo retorts on cue before her face lights up with an insane amount of excitement. “Which you could too! Then we’d both have babies.”

“Great idea,” Y/N snorts sarcastically and slips into her sneakers, playfully musing, “Who of the guys I randomly fuck would make a good baby daddy, huh? The alcoholic I met at the farmer’s market or the depressed stand-up with a heroin addiction?”

Jo sits down on the bench next to her and conspiratorially leans closer. “Can I tell you something that I realized recently?”

Y/N gives her a raised look that borders on amused. “What?”

The blonde has been a bit of a postpartum mess these days. It’s the lack of sleep and the fact that her boobs won’t stop leaking. Also, her kid is a biter.

“When I first was cast on Paradise Bay, I was thrilled, okay? I mean, it was so exciting, remember? And then they put me in that year-long coma, and I was just lying there in this hospital bed, feeling powerless. And then when season three came, and they graduated me to that wheelchair with that blanket–”

“I’m sorry… Is this going somewhere?” Y/N interrupts her because the last thing she needs to hear today is another one of Joanna’s success stories.

“I’m getting there,” Jo frowns and continues straightaway, “Anyways, I was so relieved when Sam asked me to marry him and told me to stop working. He was right. It was completely ridiculous. Why would I do this to myself, you know? I swear to God getting pregnant and written off that show was the best decision I ever made,” she tells her enthusiastically.

Y/N just twitches her shoulders and ignores the guilt that’s bubbling in her gut. “Well, we’re different people. I choose work. I can have a baby once I win an Oscar.”

Jo lets out a deep sigh, “But you’re not even working, Y/N. Don’t you wanna be happy and have a family?”

“Of course I do.” Y/N’s not sure that answer is the whole truth. She knows she’s supposed to want the supportive husband, the cute kids, and the white picket fence, but all those things come with the end of your career. She’s not ready to give up and pay that price yet. She wants to make it on her own first, not needing a hero to save her like some damsel in distress. “‘Sides, don’t I need a boyfriend for starters? Isn’t that how it works?”

“Oh, it’s not that complicated,” Jo huffs and rolls her eyes dismissively. “Just pick the first nice guy with money you find. It’s what I did. I mean, Sam is a complete idiot and so out of my league, but it works,” she shrugs. “Why don’t you come visit me in Pasadena sometimes if you miss me so much? I called you like a million times in the last few weeks.”

“I know,” Y/N groans in response and finishes buttoning her blouse, swallowing the giant lump of shame in her throat. “It’s so far away,” she excuses, even though it’s another white lie. A big one, this time.

Jo tilts her head at her, but Y/N knows the wrinkles on the blonde’s brow are not out of concern. It’s pity. She’s seen that look all her life. “Y/N, are you okay? ‘Cause you look sad and fucking depressing, honestly.”

“Thanks. But I’m fine,” she brushes her friend off with a bitter smile. “Just the usual, you know? I have $28 left to pay my bills, including rent, which is why I’ve been waitressing at that awful diner in Downey all week… Oh, and, uhm, I’ve eaten Honey Nut Cheerios for my last eight meals,” she lists off her miserable life and grabs her duffel bag, feigning the brightest grin, “But hey, I’m gonna do porn. Things are looking up.”

It’s late at night when Y/N returns to her rundown shoebox apartment. Her decorations include one dead plant and two ripped posters of Angela Lansbury and Barbra Streisand, respectively. It’s a sad affair, really.

Completely beat, she checks her fridge, which resembles an empty ice cave, except for that half-full box of cheap wine. Yeah, she can’t even afford to get drunk properly. The old mattress squeaks as she falls face-down on the bed and exhaustively snatches the rotary dial phone from her nightstand, only reaching her parents’ answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. It’s Y/N. I didn’t get the audition today either, but I’ll get another one soon. So, fingers crossed… again. But I was just wondering if you and Dad could maybe wire me some money? You know, just so I can pay my electricity bill and… eat food. I’m really sorry… I know I can’t keep asking you guys for money because I’m a grown-up now… but I swear it’s the last time, okay? And I’m aware I said that the last time, too… Anyways, love you. Call me back, please? Okay, thanks… Bye.”

Slamming the receiver onto the phone, she groans loudly and is close to screaming into her goddamn pillow. When did she become such a pathetic fucking loser?

Needless to say, she imagined her life would go a lot differently.

In the midst of her nervous breakdown, her ears then perk up at a strange noise, eyes darting warily to the window. There’s an audible jam of the lock, followed by the rustling of the yellowed blinds before a large hand pops through the crack.

Shit. Someone’s trying to break in.

Anxiously, she grabs the phone and holds it up like a weapon, her heart thrashing wildly in her ribcage, the sound ringing in her ears. Then, she bravely yells with a shaky voice, “Whoever you are, I have a knife in my hand and already called the cops!”

“Whoa, whoa… Y/N, it’s just me.” A young man’s head pokes through the window, raising his large palms with a chuckle.

Her shoulders slump, the tension of fear replaced with one of annoyance as she sighs half-heartedly in relief, recognizing the intruder. Y/N lowers her makeshift weapon, tossing it on the bed. “Oh my God! What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you climbing through my window? You can’t be here! Climb back out – now!”

“You said the last time that no one can find out about us, so I took that seriously,” he explains as he gaspingly pushes his tall body through the small opening. “Can’t you just be happy to see me, Y/N? It took some effort to come here and climb through that window, you know?” A charming laugh bounces off the thin, bare walls once he’s made it into her apartment and towers over her.

Y/N folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow, “You want credit for cheating on your wife?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes back a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please not call it that?”

“What would you like me to call it? You’re married to someone and had sex with me,” she counters sternly. She absolutely doesn’t want him here. That man is only trouble and part of the reason why her life is so fucking shitty these days.

“Look, this isn’t normal behavior for me,” he shrugs innocently as if the madness can’t be helped and adds the softest puppy dog look. “I just-, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“So?! It was a huge fucking mistake!” There’s a sharp inhale of breath as she tries to gulp down the anger, guilt, and shame inside of her. “It happened weeks ago! You shouldn’t be here… It was a party. The drinks were free… I-I was feeling sorry for myself, and you took advantage of that.”

Quietly clearing his throat, he mumbles under his breath, “I think we both took advantage of that.” As he meets her gaze, his whiskey-colored orbs mirror the same guilt she feels.

Y/N places her hands on her hips with a deep exhale, her head bobbing as the words sink in and her head begins to spin. She knows he’s right. They’re both equally to blame, but it doesn’t change anything about her regrets. “Please leave. Go home to your family,” she begs him softly, too soft, not enough strength left to fight.

“You can’t just pull the plug on this. You and me. This is real,” he tells her, his hazel eyes boring into hers. “I think you’re the one, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she stresses with a heavy shake of her head, fighting against the tears that prick her eyes and cloud her mind. “I’m nothing special.”

Pensively, he nods and licks his lips, a humorless chuckle escaping between them as he rubs his mouth and ponders, “I keep thinking about what you said to me that night… You know, how there are shiny people who have everything? And then there are people like us who have to go to parties with those people and watch them get their pictures taken. And it’s not fair... ‘Cause we deserve good things, too. We deserve attention and love and… sex.”

Silently staring at him for what feels like an eternity, her mind races a mile a minute as her heart shatters into a thousand sharp daggers that pierce through her skin and leave deep scars in their wake. And then, Y/N foolishly crashes her lips against his just to stop the goddamn pain in her chest.

What is there to say that even justifies any of this? She’s fucking weak.

The harsh sunbeams that fall on her face and blind her eyes announce another dreadful morning as she wakes with a pessimistic groan. The bed is cold and empty; the married guy is long gone, leaving right after the fuck.

Y/N is alone again – with nowhere to go.

Why did she do what she did? In all honesty, she can’t quite understand it herself, the truth too cruel and pathetic to accept it. The only positive thing she can find about her situation is that at least she can’t sink any lower than rock bottom. She’s certain she’s reached the depths of Hell at this point. Los Angeles mistakenly gets called the city of angels. Truthfully, though, it’s filled with devils who lure you to the dark side until you can’t even look in the mirror anymore without seeing a white line instead of your own goddamn reflection.

The funny thing, though? She’s never even been into drugs or booze or whatever bad habit you can catch in this city, like an STD. She has always worked her ass off and walked the straight and narrow. And for fucking what?

Y/N is definitely at her lowest of lows, but that also means there’s nowhere to go but up, right? And when the red light on her answering machine keeps blinking, her hope and good spirit return as she eagerly presses the button, restarting the endless cycle once more.  

“Y/N, this is Josie. I have an audition for you tomorrow. I’m not running it, but I thought of you. It’s in Watts. And it’s not porn... They’re looking for unconventional women, whatever the fuck that means… Oh, and uhm, if you ever ambush me in the restroom again, I’ll make sure you’re gonna be blacklisted on every casting call in Los Angeles. Are we clear? Anyways, good luck, honey!”

A loud scream echoes through the tiny apartment. Y/N can’t believe her fucking ears and jumps excitedly up and down when Josie’s message ends, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

The game is back on – and it’s not fucking porn.

2. Livin’ On A Prayer

Yikes! I think it’s fairly easy to guess who this mystery guy is, but let me know all your suspicions and gasps, anyways! 😉 And don’t worry. You’re getting plenty of Dean tomorrow (some would say too much Dean) 😎😈

Everything Jensen (1st part tag only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @recoveringpastaaddict​ @muhahaha303​

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28​

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 28

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You reached the roadhouse, slipped quietly in and packed your bag, and left no word to anyone. You thought that by moving here,  you would have a better life. But this was something you couldn't get your head around.  You uncovered your bike, jumped on it, and disappeared from everyone.

You sat on the chair screaming,  though your voice was not heard, your body sat silently, calmly, and sickeningly admiringly watching the man pacing in front of you.

“Let's be nice to our guest darling,” The man smiled at you,  caressing your cheek.

“Castiel, brother“ he welcomed the man,  who was standing in a circle of fire.

Castiel looked at you "Y/N,  I am here with the Winchesters” but no emotion came from you.

“You won't get much out of her” Lucifer smiled “I've had a few months to work my charm on her, ” he grinned at Castiel,  walking behind you and placing his chin on your head, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. Making you sneer in disgust inside your head.

“You can't have her or Sam Winchester” Casitel stated, “ I am not going to let you have any of them.”

Lucifer turned you to face him and held you in his arms,  as he leaned in to kiss you he heard a voice yell “Hey!”

You both turned and saw Sam “You wanted to see me?“ he commanded.

“He came,” you gleefully looked to Lucifer.

“Sam,  no need for weapons here,  we won't hurt you, we love you” Lucifer tried to diffuse him and pushed you towards him. As you stretched out your arms to embrace the man, a voice came from behind you.

“Yea, but maybe I kill her” Dean grabbed you pointing a gun to your head, then at Lucifer and pulled the trigger, causing Lucifer to drop to the ground.

"You won't kill me,  you love her too much “ you laughed turning to face Dean,  your eyes turning black. "And guess what,  you didn't kill him either,” You smiled wide.

Dean tried to comprehend your words for a second then he heard Lucifer cough “Okay owww, where did you get that?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“Don't feel too bad Sammy,  the colt can't kill me. I'm one of the only five things it can't kill” Lucifer said turning to face him “ But I knew you weren't going to make it easy for me and just say yes “ he stood looking at Sam “ I mean, even after I got you the perfect wife"  he looked over at you winking.

"You see I may need your permission to be my vessel,  but I certainly don’t need hers to sire my children, shame though the girl is spitfire really put up a hell of a fight that I had to call in reinforcements. Though when the time comes,  I would have loved to see what that was like in bed. Without the demon." Looking at Dean and grinning, taunting him.

“It's never gonna happen,  me or her” Sam shouted at him.

“Really Sam,  I think it's gonna happen and I think it’s going to happen soon,  you will say yes to me, but to show you I am a nice guy I'll give her back,  but make no mistake you are both mine and I will come for you, both of you.” you felt the sensation of your body falling to the floor and then darkness.

You awoke in Bobby's house “Thank fuck, I knew you would find me.“ you sighed in relief.

But as you looked around the room the mood was unsettling. No one would meet your eye.

“Dean,  I promise that wasn't me I didn't say yes” You got up and held his hands trying to convince him, pleading with him.

But what he did next surprised you “I know sweetheart I know, I'm so sorry” You felt his tears on your head and then his lips softly brushing your temple.

You looked between them, panic building up inside of you “ What's going on,  what happened?”

But no one answered.

“Someone to talk to me" your voice raised, breaking away from Dean "Please." you pleaded.

“Y/N,” Dean said lowly “It's Jo and Ellen,”

“No “ you pointed at him angrily “ Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say.”

“Y/N,” Bobby said softly.

You span round to face him, Shaking your head from side to side, tears streaming down your face.

“No Bobby, I don't believe you, It's not true” you cried. "it can't be true. They are the only family I have"

You looked frantically between the four men, hoping they would take it back, begging it was some kind of mistake.

But their heads were bowed not looking at you. Even the angel wouldn’t look at you.  You heard Sam sniff and saw tears fall from his face.

Then you felt Dean's arms grab you, "No" you slapped him away "your lying, I don't believe you."

He tried again to hold you but you pushed him back and ran out the front door, vomited, and screamed until your throat was sore.

You felt Dean wrap his arms around you “I'm so sorry baby girl,  I'm so sorry,”

But you had no words, just tears.

“I want to be alone Dean” you whispered.

Dean reluctantly walked away. When you were alone, you took the photo from your wallet and stared at it, the only family you had. You took your lighter and burned it. You stomped on it with your boot with anger and you left.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @fraidoftedark 

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

a Blanket of Snow | Dean Winchester x reader

Requested by @dnnwnchstr22​  / Summary: You and Dean take a weekend vacation in the mountains where you get to experience something for the first time; snow! 

A/N: It’s short, but I hope you enjoy! I tried to write more, but where i decided to end, just felt like the perfect ending and I deleted the other. Thank you for requesting <3

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

As you enter the small cabin, you’re hit with a chill and the smell of a log cabin; rustic and earthy. The cabin was freezing, matching the air outside. You stepped aside to let Dean lead the way, shivering and rubbing your hands over your arms trying to warm yourself, “it’s freezing!” 

He let your two duffels fall to the hardwood floors, “Don’t worry I’ll get a fire started.” He gives you a grin, kissing your forehead.

You make yourself comfortable on the couch in front of the large stone fireplace, watching Dean as he built the fire, it ignited with a roar and a blast of warmth. You let out a content sigh as you felt the heat from the fire. 

“There we go!” Dean huffs proudly, standing and taking the seat next to you, “It’ll warm up soon.” He takes your hands in his, “god your hands are freezing!” He covers his hands over yours, bringing it to his lips and blowing hot air against them. 

“maybe the temperature as cold as it is, it will finally snow.” You say with hope. You’d never had the chance to experience snow. 

Dean had hoped you’d experience it too. He’d experienced it multiple times, but always remembered the feeling of waking up to all of his surroundings covered in a blanket of white; pure excitement. It meant the morning would be spent playing outside with Sam, making snow men, rounding out the snow balls to throw at each other. His mom calling them both in before they would freeze to death. She’d have a hot breakfast ready on the table, instruct the boys to strip out of their wet outer layer before they would catch hypothermia. He’d watch her hang the clothes in front of the fire so they’d be good and dry before he and Sam would head out again after breakfast. 

He wanted you to experience the feeling of seeing snow for the first time; everything covered in a white blanket, a soft sparkle in the snow. It was a sight of wonder, I guess that’s why they call it a wonderland. 

~

It was the last day and there had been no snow, not even any flurries. You were beyond disappointed, hoping the freezing temperatures would warrant a snow, especially high on the mountain. You awoke with Dean’s bare back to you. Sighing you rise from the bed and head toward the window, expecting disappointment. If you expect it, you won’t be disappointed. When you moved the curtain aside, to peek out, there it was. White everywhere. It had snowed during the night, leaving a heavy white blanket on every surface it had touched. 

“Oh my god!” You felt the surge of excitement, finally experiencing something one should experience at least once in their life. 

Dean groans from the bed, “what?” He’d hoped for a little more sleep. 

“It snowed!” 

Dean was laying on his stomach, his left cheek deep against the mattress and peeked open his eye as you throw the curtain open all the way. “Holy shit.” He grins as he sees the white blanket, more snow flakes flowing softly. Sleep is forgotten as he jumps from the bed, coming to the window to inspect. He was only in his boxer briefs. 

“It snowed; oh god Dean look at it!” You smiled, leaning against the window sill.

Dean would never forget the look on your face. The way your eyes sparkled and wide with adoration. The large grin plastered on your face. He savored the moment, wanting to remember this forever. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” 

~

I wrote more, but I thought this was the perfect ending, pure and romantic. I hope you enjoyed! 

Comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! x 

[mrs-mjf]

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[ao3topshipsbracket]

AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Round 2 Side 1

This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[existential-queeer]

Back in November of 2020, I tried explaining to my mother what was happening within the Supernatural fandom, which she understood none of. I told her about it so often that whenever I'd go "oh god not again" near her, she'd say "what language did they go canon in this time?"

Jump forward to now, November 3rd 2023, and I receive these texts from my mother:

she downloaded Tumblr just to be aware of what the fuck is going on with my silly little gay shows

[sournmoon]

Happy Destiel day!

[ID: Destiel confession meme. Castiel says, "I love you". Dean, covered in butterflies and sparkles, replies, in pink sparkly text, "Sparkle on! It's november 5th! Don't forget to be yourself!" End ID]

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 1)

Summary: After one of the reader's last concerts of the year, she unexpectedly runs into notorious playboy Dean Winchester, quarterback of the LA Wolves. Only Dean's a big fan and he seems to want more than just a photo if given the chance...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: I promise there'll be more Dean and reader interacting in person next part! Needed to set the scene with this!

_________

You groaned the second you were alone. You’d survived the summer tour but you were exhausted. All you wanted was a greasy hamburger, chicken nuggets, and to sleep for a month. After changing into a pair of joggers and oversized hoodie, you texted your bodyguard Eric, telling him you wanted to get out of there quietly. He knocked twice on your dressing room door before entering with a smile.

“Great show tonight,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Eric grabbing your backpack for you. 

“Like you pay attention to anything besides harassing the security team,” you said, resting your forehead against his strong chest. “I never want to tour again. I’m so tired.”

“You’re just cranky cause you’re hungry and need sleep,” he said rubbing your back. “You only have two more shows this year and then we can sit on the couch eating cookies and binging divorce court.”

“This is why I keep you around, buddy,” you laughed, taking a deep breathe before looking up. “Speaking of food-“

“Let’s get you out of here and full of some chicken nuggies.”

“Back in five,” you said to Eric thirty minutes later, your wallet in hand and panic button in your pocket. He let you go out without it sometimes but not after a show and especially not when you were in the press so much lately. 

It was nearly midnight as you walked into the nearly empty McDonald’s, a guy in a hoodie at the counter with his back to you. 

“Hi,” you said, stepping up to the other register. “Can I get a quarter pounder with cheese, a medium fry and a twenty piece chicken nugget with barbecue sauce? Oh and a bottle of water.”

You paid, the girl behind the counter staring at you like she recognized you but was too nervous to say anything.

“Holy shit,” said a male voice. You glanced left, the man in the hoodie pushing it down to reveal him in a black baseball cap. He was incredibly handsome and had such pretty green eyes. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him but you couldn’t place it. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N…and apparently you eat like a linebacker.”

“Dance on stage for three hours every night and you would too,” you said, the man humming.

“Do you mind if I get a pic?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said, the man handing his phone to the girl behind the counter who eagerly took a few. He was practically giddy when he got his phone back, a bag of food coming out for him.

“Thanks for indulging me,” he said. You noticed a few strands of confetti on top of his hat and smiled. He must have been at the concert. He almost walked away and out the door when he spun around, parting his lips. “Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” you said again. It was much safer to just take the number and hand it off to Eric to do a background check on the person than try a rejection. The man scribbled it down on the back of your receipt, your cashier now acting as his wing woman and making sure he had a pen.

“I uh, hope to hear from you soon,” he said, flashing you a wink before leaving. You eased when he was gone, the girl at the counter handing you your bag of food after a moment. 

“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” she said, your eyebrows raising. Not the reaction you were expecting from her.

“Mhm. Thanks for the food. Have a good night,” you said, quickly leaving. You ducked outside, Eric waiting in the backseat for you. 

“Any trouble?” he asked, nodding to the man farther down the parking lot, slipping into a large SUV.

“Just a fan,” you said, handing him the paper with the guys number. He gave you a side eye as he took it from your fingers. “He was harmless.”

“I’ll check it out to be sure,” he grumbled, stealing a fry from your bag. “Did you get me-“

“Yes I got you your nuggets,” you said, Eric relaxing back into his seat. Your driver headed for home and in twenty minutes you were on your couch chowing down. Eric was at the kitchen counter, lazily scrolling through his phone, probably grateful that you were secure in the house for the night.

You watch his eyes go wide, gaze shooting to you.

“I swear I didn’t do anything.” You kept eating your burger, Eric silently watching you. “Dude, you’re freaking me out.”

“That fan from McDonald’s posted the pic of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes and got up, sulking over to him.

“Oh tell me he’s not some whack job.”

“He’s Dean Winchester,” he said, showing his phone to you. You shrugged, walking back to the couch. “Dean Winchester? NFL quarterback? Three time Super Bowl winner?”

You stared at him, Eric groaning. 

“He’s the quarterback for the LA Wolves…he went to Kansas State the same time you did, Y/N. You probably went to his football games.” He rolled his eyes at you. “How do you not realize you’re taking a picture with a sports legend?”

“I must have missed it with all my free time over the past dozen years with all the touring and ten albums and other shit in my life. And frankly you’re the one that told me it doesn’t matter who it is, I need to be careful of everyone, whether they’re famous or not.” He sighed, putting his phone away.

“Alright, I get your point,” he said, returning to eating. “Dude’s kind of a player anyways it seems like. Nice guy but I know you’re more the sensitive guy type.”

“Emotionally available,” you corrected, plopping down on the couch once more. “Why would you think he’s into me anyways? Plenty of people are fans without wanting to get in my pants.”

“Well, it’s Dean Winchester so he definitely wants in your pants,” he joked. “Also the caption, genius.” 

You quirked your eyebrow, Eric tossing his phone over to you. You pouted when you went back to the post, actually reading it this time.

DWinchester67 Y/N Y/L/N Saturday Night Concert at the Wolves stadium. AMAZING TIME with the crew. Worth getting ragged on by the boys all week for taking them to the show just to see them belt their hearts out to #FinishLine (video soon)

Then had the awesome luck to snag a pic with Y/N grabbing a midnight snack. I was dying on the inside at meeting my crush. Sorry for being awkward when you were trying to get your grub on. Next time it’s on me ;)

Your eyes met Eric’s when you finished, his chicken nuggets nearly gone. 

“Yeah, like no reason he’s into you, right?” smirked Eric. You grumbled, returning to your late night dinner. “I’ll background check that number in the morning.”

“He’s a player that wants to have sex. Don’t bother with the background work. He’s harmless.”

“As you wish, princess,” he said with a little bow, earning himself being hit in the face with your balled up burger wrapper. “The abuse I put up with. Tsk tsk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your generous benefits package,” you said, Eric chuckling as he double checked the back doors were locked one last time. “Eric…”

“Mhm,” he hummed, ruffling your head gently as he walked past the back of the couch. “See you in the morning, kiddo.”

“Night. Oh!” you said, sitting up on your knees on the couch, Eric throwing his head back. “It’s nothing bad! Just…can you ban everyone from the house until ten? I really want to sleep in and try to catch up.”

“You want me to fend off your team? After Dean Winchester posted that? What do I get out of this?” he teased, crossing his arms. You batted your eyes, jutting out your lip. “You got to do better than that.”

“I’ll buy you box seats to an LA Wolves game of your choice?” He looked blank faced which meant he was really tempted to take the offer. But Eric didn’t like extravagant gifts from you for doing his job. He already said his paycheck was more than enough and he barely accepted the Christmas and birthday presents you’d get for him.

You held up a finger, Eric calculating the move.

“Give me one good reason for not accepting.”

“First off, it’s too much. Second, I’m your primary protection agent and need to be available-”

“Please Eric? They’re going to be vultures in the morning with that whole post and you haven’t had a day off in six months. You’re as exhausted as I am. I’m asking as your friend, not your boss.” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Is that a yes?”

“It means I’ll think about it and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “We’re going to watch football all day. I’ll teach you all about it.”

You growled, Eric snickering the whole way out.

Dean POV

The first game of the season was always a good one. The team was healthy. We had home field advantage for once. 

And I really enjoyed the hell out of playing football in a packed stadium. It wasn’t an ego thing like for some people. No, I loved putting on a show and entertaining people for a few hours a week, give them a fun escape before they had to return to the reality of their lives.

That’s what football had always been to me and I knew for most fans, it gave them that same sense of belonging.

And women tended to really like seeing a bunch of muscular men run around in tight pants.

“Winchester, surprised you’re here,” said Michael. I glanced over my shoulder in the locker room, a big smirk on his face. “I thought you’d be in the burn unit with how hard you crashed and burned with Y/N Y/L/N last night.”

I rolled my eyes at the taunts of the room, ignoring them as they riffed on me for a good ten minutes. When Benny walked in though they finally calmed down, Ben taking a seat in his cubby beside me.

“Let me have it,” I sighed. Benny leaned in close, covering his mouth from the rest of the room.

“If you really want that girl to go out with you, you got to do more than make an insta post. She’s classy. She’s not going to fawn over you like every dipshit you’ve dated because you’re good looking. So you better impress her.” He gave me one last look before reaching down to his duffel and pulling out his cleats.

He had a point. Y/N had never cared for cocky flirts. I could remember her in college, always spending time at parties with the shy academic guys that chatted her ear off about music theory and english papers. I swear the only time she gave a single jock attention was when she’d grab a guitar in the late hours of the night and sing a song none of us had heard before. She could stop a group of drunken college students in their tracks with a single note. Nowadays her music was all pop but back then, just her and a guitar…I’d have sworn an angel fell out of the sky straight in front of me.

No woman had made my heart swell up with comfort and longing the way she had the night I laid eyes on her for the first time. 

The years had done little to diminish a teenage boy’s crush. If anything, seeing her last night, getting to talk to her for even a brief moment, made my insides burn hotter than before. Maybe it was only a crush, an infatuation with a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful voice.

I felt Benny’s stare on me as I lazily watched my feet before me.

“You’re still in love with her.” He said it as a statement so I didn’t respond. I’d never claimed such a thing despite Benny insisting on it back in college. But he’d always been good at sensing those kinds of things.

Or at least he wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

“I talked to her in english lit once, about you.” My head snapped up, eyes wide as he was now down to his boxer briefs, tugging up his pants. “She heard what happened to Sam.”

“Why are you bringing up Sam?” I whispered, giving him a hard glare. Benny smiled, curious since he knew not to bring him up unless I did. “Half the school offered their condolences. Of course she-”

“She didn’t. She offered…hope. Apparently her little brother went missing once too.” I turned my head away. 

“Everyone who knows anything about Y/N Y/L/N heard that story. Congrats. We both have little brothers that were kidnapped and never heard from again. Fucking awesome we can share that trauma,” I spit out. Benny leaned in close, gripping my shoulder.

“She wrote a song for her brother. Finish Line. She showed it to me long before she got famous. Look up who it’s fucking dedicated to and maybe realize there is a deeper reason why you fell in love at first sight with that girl. I have a feeling she’s the only girl in the world that could get you and you knew it long before your head did.”

I was seething, storming out of the locker room and into a trainers room next door, quickly shutting the door behind me. What the fuck was Benny thinking bringing Sam up right before a game? I could handle thinking about a girl but Sam?

I angrily typed Finish Line dedication into google, freezing at the short paragraph that appeared as the top result.

Chart topper Finish Line by Y/N Y/L/N was notoriously written by Y/L/N in her senior year of highschool after the disappearance of her younger brother, Max. Max is presumed to have been abducted while walking home from a friends house. The music video of Finish Line states the song is “For Max & Sam” although Y/L/N has never stated who Sam is. Fans theorize “Sam” is a representation of all abduction victims however…

I immediately tapped on the youtube video of the song, scrolling all the way to the end, bottom lip wobbling as I read the stark white letters against the black background.

She never gave me the time of day back then yet she knew who I was, what it felt like to have a piece of you go missing and you couldn’t do anything about it. She put my baby brother in a song for her baby brother and we weren’t even friends.

I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to calm down. 

“Sammy,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Is this a sign or something? Is she as fucked up as I am and the world doesn’t know it? Is that why she’s never been seen with a boyfriend her whole career? Did she shy away from connections when I buried myself in meaningless ones? Are we both so screwed up on the biggest stage in the world and that’s why I still feel breathless when I see her? Tell me I’m not crazy, Sammy. Tell me there’s a reason I’m still head over heels for this girl.”

I slowly opened my eyelids, staring at coach who was staring back at me on the other side of the room by the far entrance. I quickly cleared my throat and turned to leave, coach’s whistle stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about son, but my advice as someone who’s been married longer than you’ve been alive…you know when you fall in love. That’s the easy part. Admitting it and trying to get the balls to say it to her face is the harder part.”

“Sir, she doesn’t even know I exist. Or barely knows I do,” I said quietly. “I should-”

“Your little brother, god rest his soul, wants you to be happy, Winchester. So shoot your shot with this girl so you can stop having an existential crisis before my home opener, got it?” I glanced over my shoulder, coach’s face surprisingly soft for how close we were to game time. “She must be special to tame you.”

“She had me the whole time. The rest were me trying to forget.” He nodded, picking up his playbook again.

“Then go get this girl so you have your answer,” he said. “And stay out of my training room before games. Only place they can’t find me.”

“Yes sir.” I ducked back into the locker room, Benny gave me a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded and sat down to tie up my shoes, an idea sparking in my mind before I opened instagram. “Ben, take a picture of me.”

“Good god,” groaned Michael from my other side. “Like your insta doesn’t have enough shirtless selfies.”

He snagged my phone out of my hands, sighing as he took a photo of me smirking in my cubby.

“I regret being your friend,” he said, handing it back to me while Benny chuckled. 

“Same, Michael,” I smiled back before I was on insta and typing furiously. I posted before I could stop myself, Benny and Michael sharing a look and immediately going to their own phones. But they weren’t fast enough apparently.

“Winchester are you serious?” shouted Gabe from across the room, the whole team looking at their phones now.

“Yup,” I said, standing and tugging on my under armor v-neck, my shoulder pads and then my jersey. 

“You can’t force a girl to go out with you!” he shouted. 

“I’m not forcing. I’m offering a donation to her charity if she does feel inclined to go out with me,” I said with a shrug. Benny grabbed my shoulders, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Five million dollars? That’s not what I mean when I said impress her you idiot!” he said.

“That’s what the picture was for,” I said with a wink, my phone already buzzing non-stop at the incoming flood of texts and calls. “You think she’ll take me up on my offer?”

“This fucker’s really about to get a fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N through a fucking bribe,” said Michael, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re crushing so hard it’s in psycho territory.”

“One date is all I want,” I said, smiling when coach walked in, rolling his eyes at me. “Come on boys, time to focus on the game!”

Y/N POV

I was currently hiding in my bedroom, reading a book on Sunday evening, Eric doing his best to get my agent and manager and PR head out of the house without force. As expected, they’d reemed my ass out for not capitalizing on the Dean Winchester picture in the moment but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about hanging out with pretty fuck boys for publicity’s sake.

But I had followed him on my private account no one knew about. It’d taken a moment but I remembered who Dean Winchester was in our college days. He was flirty back then I remembered. And a good football player I guess. But I just remembered what happened in the spring semester, how the whole campus knew his pain before he had a chance to even process it.

My heart ached for a boy I’d said nothing more than a passing hello to at parties. 

I still felt that ache whenever I sang Finish Line. I’d never realized Dean went on to his own version of fame all those years ago. But I knew the hurt still existed in his heart. There was no healing it but some part of me wished I could soothe it for a moment. I forgot in the music sometimes. Maybe he could do the same when he played his games.

Maybe I really should have talked to him last night.

My phone buzzed and I saw a new post, this one of him making my jaw drop. “Hot damn you are good looking, Winchester.”

Then I shrieked when I looked at the caption.

DWinchester67 Hey @Y/NY/L/N it was fun running into you last night. How about you take me up on my offer and let me buy dinner for our first date? 

Oh and to sweeten the deal, I’ll donate five million dollars to your charity if you say yes (plus another million for each touchdown I throw tonight, those are freebies for ya). 

You got my number so waiting on you sweetheart. ;)

Eric was in the room before I could raise my head, eyes darting around the room before he determined there was no threat. 

“Jesus, girl. I swear if you saw a bug-”

“Dean Winchester asked me out. Publicly.” Eric narrowed his eyes as he tucked his gun back into the holster. 

“Okay…you made it clear to the team today you don’t want anything to do with a publicity stunt. What’s the problem?” You tossed the phone to the end of the bed, Eric sitting on the bench at the bottom to pick it up. He did a double take, eyes skirting to meet yours. “I’m doing a full background check on this man. He either really wants in your pants, to profit off you or he’s obsessive. To be honest, I don’t like any of those options.”

“Me either but five million dollars to the charity? Plus more? That could help kids, Eric. We could find a safe way to do this, right?” He pursed his lips, nodding once.

“One date at a place of my choosing. My team will be there in the background and I’m going to talk to this boy and let him know all of the ways I can kill him if he tries anything.” You smiled, Eric handing the phone back. 

“You’d kill your favorite football player for me. You’re too sweet Eric,” you chuckled. He stood up, adjusting his sports blazer.

“You know why I stuck with you when my agency assigned me to the Princess?” he asked, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “You always listened to me. You didn’t always agree but you listened and we could have conversations. We could have conversations about safety without you acting like a brat or me like an asshole. You respected me and that earned you loyalty all these years later.”

You stared your hands in your lap. “My parents lost one child. I don’t want them to lose another.”

You were surprised to find him come closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. 

“Don’t lose hope now, kiddo. I’ve always admired that about you.” You looked away, Eric stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Someday we’ll find the truth. I promise.”

“My mom wishes it were me,” you said, shaking your head. “If I didn’t make my parents so much money I’d think they’d be plenty happy to let some crazy fan take me away forever. All because I was five minutes late to pick up Max and he decided to walk home.”

“Hey!” Eric gripped your shoulders hard, hard enough that you felt the strength of his hands down in your bones. He was always so gentle you with guiding touches here and there you often forgot he was as deadly with his hands as he was a weapon. 

You met his gaze, Eric sighing.

“That is not true and you know it.” His stern expression softened when you shook your head.

“She told me the day we had a funeral for him Max should have been there and I should have been the one missing. So I know, Eric.” He pulled you into a hug, letting you squeeze him tight.

“I know she did,” he whispered, your chin resting on his shoulder. “She has so many regrets from that time and knows what she said broke something with the two of you. But I have had countless conversations with them over the years. I know you trust me so trust me when I say, you are their world and it would destroy them to lose you. She always asks me if you’re happy because she says you put on your fake smile for her. She doesn’t blame you one bit for it.”

“I hate when you have points,” you said, closing your eyes, getting another squeeze from him. 

“Happy to help my buddy. So you don’t give up on Max yet, alright? Everyone else has. If he’s out there, he needs you to keep going for him.”

“No wonder your team adores you. Soft cuddly bear under all the threats of violence aren’t you?”

“It’s how I land so many chicks,” he chuckled. He kissed your temple and stood, cracking his back. “Respond back yes if you want to. Let me look into this Dean Winchester before you agree to anything else though.”

You hummed, clearing your throat when Eric was in the doorframe. “I-I do remember one thing about Dean in college. He had a younger brother Sam that went missing too. Never found him.”

Eric kept his back to you for a beat, nodding once. 

“Do you think Dean is a bad guy?”

“Gut check says no. Probably just wants a hookup,” he said before stepping out and pulling the door shut fast behind him. “Rowan, I swear to god you bother this girl tonight and I’ll shove my glock up your ass.”

“He asked her out! I need to talk to her!” he yelled back on the other side of the door. You sighed and put on your noise canceling headphones before going to instagram and tapping on his post. 

Y/NY/L/N @DWinchester67 One date. As friends Winchester

Not five seconds later you received a winking emoji and “friends” in response. 

“Dear god, you’re going to be a handful, Winchester.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Wearing Dean's Boxers

Requested by anonymous: “Hi , idk if we can request but can i have a dean or Sam x reader. Where she comes out of the bedroom in his boxers with just a bra on and everyone (aka cas , jack etc.) just observe her because she hasnt notice them yet and dean/sam is just stunned. She probaly just came for water . Plz and thank you . Is it possible i can be tag also . No rush.”

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 828

Warnings: language, implied smut, talks of safe sex and procreation, mostly fluff

A/N: I kind of love Cas and Jack in this one :) Enjoy!

_____

Sam nudged Dean with his foot under the table when you walked into the kitchen. Cas and Jack watched as you made a beeline for the cupboard and reached up on your tip-toes to grab a glass from the top shelf.

Sam kept rearranging everything every time you left for a hunt and you just got back from a solo one last night. He thought the mugs should be lower since they were used for coffee more often, but you didn't drink coffee and hated having to stretch up for the glasses. Next time he left you’d switch it all back again. You weren’t the one who was gonna cave first.

Dean cleared his throat and you fumbled the glass in your hands, catching it before it hit the countertop. You shot him a dirty look for scaring you and started again when you spotted the boys. Cas and Jack watched with curious expressions while Sam avoided all eye contact and turned beet red.

You had a kind of will-they-won’t-they relationship going on with Dean since you’d moved into the bunker and last night after a close call with a demon, you finally did. But you weren’t expecting the others to find out this way. Standing in the kitchen dressed in your good bra and Dean’s Scooby-Doo boxers which hugged your hips and the gentle curve of your thighs.

You wrapped an arm around your bare stomach wishing you had stopped to change in your room first, but it was in the opposite direction of the kitchen and you were damn thirsty after the late night’s more amorous activities.

Fuck it, you thought after a moment of self-consciousness and went back to filling your glass with ice cold tap water. You chugged it down and wiped your chin before refilling it again; a few droplets hit your chest and ran down the valley of your breasts. You made a satisfying ‘Ah’ sound and placed the glass in the sink.

Dean was biting his lip when you turned back to face the boys who were sitting at the table with breakfast laid out in front of them. Jack had some sort of chocolatey cereal, Sam had a kale salad of course, and Dean had a plate stacked full of just bacon. You sauntered over and stole the crispy piece Dean had in his hand and smiled.

Dean huffed and frowned and Sam chuckled as he pushed around his kale and vinaigrette. That’s when you noticed Jack staring at your chest and you scrunched your forehead in return.

"What's that?" He asked before you could snap at him for being rude, although you knew he didn’t know any better especially with Dean as a role model. "Did you get hurt?" He pointed to the purple splotch above your clavicle.

And it was your turn to turn all rosy as you shook your head. "Uh, Dean, you wanna answer this one?" It was a hickey, a lover’s bite; Dean’s mark to be exact.

"Nope, I'm good." He said, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth and grinning up at you as he subtly eyed his handiwork. It wasn’t the only one, but it was the darkest one.

Jack looked confused, “Why would Dean know what happened?" He asked you but then furrowed his brow at Dean who just shrugged.

"I think this has something to do with the giggling and provocative language we heard coming from his bedroom last night." Cas explained, “They're marks of mating."

"Thank you, Cas." Dean said around a mouthful of half chewed bacon and coughed when he inhaled a piece.

Cas slapped him on the back, dislodging the bacon. “You're welcome." He said, missing the sarcasm in Dean’s voice.

“Wait,” Jack raised his hand and thought for a moment, “Am I going to be a big brother? Just like Dean?!”

“Uh, Dean?” You said, not wanting to answer.

You were hardly there in your relationship yet. If it was a relationship, you and Dean hadn’t hammered out the details. Though you hammered out a few other things…

Dean cleared his throat, “Cas?”

Cas took the opportunity to explain again, “Yes, it is my understanding that mating leads to procreation.”

Jack beamed at the thought and bounced in his seat like a giddy child. Sam snorted and spit out the bite of kale he just took. He laughed, clearly and thoroughly enjoying himself at yours and his brother’s expense.

You and Dean had taken the necessary precautions and someone was going to have to explain that to Jack and probably Cas too; but that sure as hell wasn’t going to be you. That sounded more like a Dean job.

“Oh my gosh,” you sighed into your palm and shook your head.

Sure, the night before was like you and Dean were making up for lost time, but you never thought you’d be the one things were moving too fast for. Though, there’s a first for everything.

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891

Forever SPN: @hobby27

[shelbybyr]

When you run out of fics to read

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 6

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, crack, drinking & drugs, mentions of homewrecking, self-worth issues & hints of a praise kink, mean girl spirit

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: You may hate him, but you can’t deny that Dean is actually one of us. He’s just a poor, suffering artist and all he wants is some affection and praise, goddammit! Welcome back to the jungle, loves! Speaking of, I made you a playlist and will add all the songs that are either mentioned or inspired this. Enjoy this super serious piece of fiction and leave your laughs below 😉🖤

<< 5 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

6. Pour Some Sugar On Me

A week has passed in paradise, and Dean is happy to report that he’s managed to smooth things over with the ladies. The women get along great these days; no more fights or backhanded comments in sight. They all bonded, mostly over the fact that they declared him public enemy No. 1. He’s about 90% sure they’re plotting to kill him. Dean’s fine with that, though, and prefers this arrangement over last week’s Shakespearean nightmare.

Billie forgave him after he threw some money at the problem, making her a devilish offer she simply couldn’t refuse. Since she’s not only an actor but also the wrestling coach, Dean promised her double salary. Now, she’s doing it all – like Bruce Lee. That one really sold her on it. And in all honesty, it’s not like there’s any other director out there in Hollywood crazy enough to hire a stunt double in a starring role. She should count herself lucky that he’s fucking nuts.

Yeah, Dean’s all about fulfilling dreams these days…

Speaking of dreams, fucking Strindberg is his model employee. She’s the first one in the gym in the mornings and the last one out at night. That woman really doesn’t have a life outside of this. It’s sad, but her sadness is good for him and this little production. It’s nice to know someone’s going above and beyond for this thing, you know? He certainly isn’t.  

Y/N’s by far the best girl he’s got in this pack of untamed wolves. She really improved herself in just one single week. He noticed she’s become friends with Legacy, which is good, too. Dean wants her to have someone in her corner to support her if he can’t always do it publicly. The two girls have been hanging out the whole week, training and giggling together. Strindberg is a smart girl – Legacy has been teaching her all the pro-wrestling moves, and now Y/N’s moves are the most convincing out of all of the women. She’s making fucking phenomenal progress.

Dean’s really proud of her – and bitter that he can’t tell her. But the fact that she’s working so hard just proves that his fucking genius plan worked. His job isn’t always a picnic because Hollywood isn’t all fun and games. Sure, there are the parties and the money and the fame and the drugs and the sex – but most times, being in this business means enduring hard work and grueling humiliation that often brings you to your goddamn knees. If Strindberg wants to be famous so bad, then she needs to pay the price.

And Dean needs to let her pay it because he pays one, too.

Y/N fucking hates him with every fiber of her being. It’s the kind of hatred that seeps deep into your bones, shatters your soul, and crushes your heart. It’s all there in her beautiful eyes every time he fucking looks at her.

Don’t get him wrong – she smiles at him, she answers his questions politely, she takes his directions, she holds his gaze… but only if she absolutely fucking has to. Otherwise, she’s completely ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. Bravo.

But hey, that’s the price he’s gotta pay for good TV, right? If Dean needs to be her outlet and punching bag, then he’ll be exactly that. He’s basically championing equality here. It’s not just Strindberg who has to live with the consequences of her actions. He’s taking his punishment in stride, too.

Besides, as long as Y/N hates him, it keeps her from hating Jo, so that’s progress in show biz. Dean is more or less the two women’s fluffer, keeping the flames alive outside of the ring, you know? Believe it or not, he actually doesn’t want the girls to be at each other’s throats outside of a wrestling match and is secretly hoping his crazy ploy will eventually repair their friendship again.

See? He’s a good person, after all. Give him some goddamn credit here.

Admittedly, there’s only one teeny-tiny thing that bothers him, though, and it’s that Y/N just hates him so goddamn fucking much, you know? It’s the sheer amount of hatred that truly baffles him. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think Strindberg hates him more than the fucking blonde. And that woman was the thorn in her eyes for almost her whole fucking lifetime.

Like, what the hell is going on? Is she projecting twenty years of resentment onto him now?  

Nah, you know what? Dean doesn’t care that she hates him. He told her not to give a shit about him, and that’s precisely what she’s doing. She’s not giving a single fucking shit about him. She’s following his directions to a tee. He’s proud of her. Really, he is. It’s exactly what he wanted.

It’s just…

Where the fuck is all that goddamn anger towards him coming from? Admittedly, that shit show last week was a lot, but he figured maybe she’d give him the silent treatment for a day or two, you know? Not a whole damn week. And she’s still not even close to fucking breaking.

Y/N’s really not giving a single shit about him.

Sure, Dean wanted to turn her into the ultimate villain. He wanted to prepare her for the role, push her, coach her, guide her, you know? But he didn’t necessarily want her to fucking hate him for it.

Fuck. He may have gone a little overboard after all. Maybe he needs to do some damage control. There are two problems that come with that, though.

One, Joanna could be watching. His deal with her kind of rides on Y/N’s constant humiliation. So, if he’s too nice to Strindberg and starts favoring her (because honestly, he should), then the blonde might walk. He does need his fucking star, even if he hates that woman.

And two, if he gives Strindberg too much praise, she might start slacking. But if he goes hard on her all the time, then she might quit. Needless to say, he can’t do the show without her either.

So, you see, the line he has to walk is incredibly fucking thin. One wrong move, and these women will fucking claw his green eyes out.

While Y/N is the model employee, Joanna is the opposite. But she’s the star, so she’s allowed. Dean’s lucky if the actress shows up only an hour late and is mostly sober. Because news flash – Barbie’s been hitting the bottle hard this week. That woman is a complete fucking mess. She also fucking sucks at wrestling. Her moves are jerky, uncoordinated, and clumsy. Probably because she’s drunk. So is he, but he doesn’t have to wrestle, so no one cares.

Dean once tried to subtly critique the blonde and was viciously told to fuck off because she just had a fucking baby and then some shit about breastfeeding, leaking, hips being in the wrong place, blah-blah-blah… He tuned out after the first few words. Since then, he leaves the training of the blonde to Billie, though.

It’s funny how the tables have suddenly turned. Joanna might be his star, but Y/N is his fucking muse. She’s goddamn shining, and Dean wishes he could tell her that and see her face light up.

But he has to play the role of the villain, too.

Dean has finally finished the pilot script for this fucking show, so Cas agreed to swing by the gym and check it out. He also knows the producer just wants to meet the girls so goddamn badly. He’s been biting Dean’s ear off the whole fucking week about finally introducing him to the women. Don’t worry, though. Cas doesn’t belong in the sleazy producer category of Hollywood. He’s just a childish idiot with a big heart who really loves wrestling. He means no harm to the women; he’s just embarrassingly fanboy-ing.

And if you think Dean’s being a little harsh by calling the rich boy an idiot: Cas just landed his fucking chopper in the goddamn parking lot – right between the burning trash piles.

However, it’s fucking script day, so Dean’s in the best mood. He’s so fucking excited to show the girls his vision. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into this manuscript. And now, he gets to hear his praise – the ultimate reward of every artist. It will be a fun, drama-free day.

As Dean cheerily leaves his office with a stack of freshly printed scripts, he finds Cas already on the bleachers, chatting vividly with the women. Only Strindberg is in the ring, working her ass off like usual. Cas, on the other hand, sits right between bombshell Joanna and… Meg.    

Oddly, Dean gets the strange choice. Wolf lady is weirdly fascinating.

“Ah, ladies! I see you’ve already met our producer, Cas Novak,” Dean smiles charmingly. There’s always a bit of brown-nosing involved with producers. That’s part of the job, too. “Just so you know, he writes your checks, so be nice.”

“Girls, it’s fine,” Cas soothingly swoops in, chuckling. “I don’t like to talk about money. I’m a patron of the arts. And wrestling is an art, despite my mother’s opinion… which is wrong.”

Oh yeah, did Dean mention that Cas is financing this whole thing with the allowance his mother grants him? Yup. Dean might be an even bigger idiot since he agreed to this insane deal.

“Dean, I gotta tell you – I love the casting. Even Ms. Serious over here,” Cas tells him enthusiastically and nudges Meg.

Oooooh. The producer shouldn’t do that, or Meg might bite him. Dean knows. She bit him three days ago. Apparently, he moved his hand too fast or some shit. Yeah…

“So, what kind of moves have you girls learned? Where’s Freeman, by the way?” Cas aims his last question at Dean.

Shit.

“Uh, change of plans. Freeman sadly didn’t work out, but, uhm, Billie here has actually been training these girls,” Dean feigns a wide smile and slings his arm around the stunt woman, pinching her in the hip until she starts smiling, too. It’s not that goddamn hard. Seriously, what’s with these women? “She’s fantastic.”

“Uh, does she have any wrestling experience?” Cas warily arches one eyebrow.

“I’m right here,” Billie grits through her teeth.

“Well, alright,” Dean grunts and rolls his eyes, dropping his grip on the stunt woman. “Fans might tune in for the moves, but they’re not gonna stay unless we give them what, ladies?” He’s such a good fucking teacher, isn’t he?

“Blood!”

“Tits!”

What the–

These fucking women…

“Storytelling, ladies. Storytelling,” Dean emphasizes. It’s like they don’t wanna be taught, you know? “Alright, script time! Shiny and new!”

Strindberg, who hasn’t shown any interest in schmoozing the producer this entire time, suddenly perks up at the mention of a script. She really is Dean’s favorite. And this is the perfect opportunity for some damage control.

“Okay, I’m just gonna cast as we go along, yeah? Starting with…” Dean feigns a pondering look around the bleachers. “Y/N!” He hears her footsteps in the ring behind him and bites back the smile as he faces her. “Ah, there you are.”

She leans coolly against the ropes in her tiny leotard and smiles, “Yes, anything you need, boss.”

See? She’s doing everything she’s supposed to do, saying all the right things, being perfectly pleasant, but she still fucking hates him. It’s so fucking weird. He can’t explain it. She’s driving him nuts. And oh God, she’s so fucking hot with that hatred in her eyes. He’s getting hard every time he looks at her. Seriously, sometimes a tiny glimpse is all it really takes.

Dean then snaps out of his stupor and subtly clears his throat, “Uhm, yeah, I need you to read stage directions.”

“Oh.” Her face falls, and the little smile is gone. “Sure.”

Look, it’s the best he can do for now without Barbie losing her shit. Dean did write her a part, though. He wrote her a fabulously long monologue. He’s sure Strindberg’s going to love it.

While Y/N isn’t necessarily thrilled to play the narrator, she still gives it her all and enthusiastically reads his directions. Dean also picked her because she’s got the nicest voice of them all, and there are tons of stage directions. He can’t even listen to the other women sometimes. They’re like white noise to him, you know?

“The year is 1999,” Y/N begins to read as everyone has gathered to listen intently. “Nuclear war has reduced the Earth to a smoking ruin. Lost tribes of women wander the land, scavenging for water, food, and an even scarcer resource – men.”

Dean notices how Y/N’s head tilts slightly at that but tries not to take offense to it. It’s a fucking good script. Honestly, this script is his best work since Blood-Dye, which was a horror movie about a vampire using his victims’ blood to tie-dye shirts. Of course, fucking Strindberg, the theater nerd, wouldn’t get it.

Y/N clears her throat lightly and then continues, “For the privilege of breeding with civilization’s last male specimen, women wrestle for domination. Welcome to the ultimate catfight. Welcome to the world of GLOW."

See? It’s fucking fantastic.

The script then plays out, he’s casting the women along the way in their respective roles, and everyone seems interested, including Cas. By the second act, though, they start to lose a little energy during the underground bunker scene. And by act three, they finally reach Y/N’s part.

“Boom! A massive explosion shakes the walls of the Uterus Cave, and in walks… Cuntar, the man-eater and a vision of hideousness,” Y/N reads, her brow furrowing a bit.

“Oh, uh, you read Cuntar,” Dean tells her, and she fucking beams at him. He’s never been happier this whole week.

Y/N then hops into the middle of the ring and joyfully begins to act with her heart and soul, “I am Cuntar!”

“Dear God, she’s even more disgusting in person,” party girl gasps loudly.

Y/N cocks her head at the brunette behind her right shoulder, her finger pointing at the script. “Oh, where does it say that?”

“Oh, uh, it’s right there… where I’m ad-libbing,” Ruby taunts her in true mean-girl fashion.

“C’mon, stick to script,” Dean reprimands Valley bitch sternly and hopes it’ll suffice. It’s like a fucking circus with them.

“Uhm, actually, maybe we should take a break,” Cas suggests with a throat clear.

“We’re almost done,” Dean huffs and throws his hands up. Can they just get through this thing once? They’re fucking ruining his vision. Except for Strindberg – she’s awesome.

“Yeah, I actually have a big monologue coming up,” Y/N adds excitedly. She’s so cute. Thank God for Strindberg. At least one of those ungrateful bitches is trying to help him here.

“I could use a break,” Jo pipes up and passive-aggressively bumps into Strindberg’s shoulder in passing while Y/N glares into the back of the blonde’s head.

Yeah, that’s been going on the whole week, too. If these two idiots were men, they would’ve already beat the shit out of each other in the parking lot and then called it even over a beer, you know? But oh no, women need to hold onto their rage for as long as fucking possible because God knows it’s so fucking healthy.

Following Joanna’s lead, the rest of the women exit the ring until only he and Strindberg are left. Their gazes meet briefly, and it almost looks like she’s holding an ounce of sympathy for him, but not even a second later, she breaks eye contact and slides wordlessly out of the ring.

See? She doesn’t give a single shit about him.

Scratching his jaw, Dean finally exits the ring as well and settles on the bleachers next to Cas, swallowing down his pride. In his periphery, he’s still observing Strindberg, however, as she sits down cross-legged in a quiet corner of the gym and thoroughly studies his script while the other women are goofing around. His heart swells.

“So, what did you think, Cas? Great, right? And you can be totally honest with me,” Dean grins broadly. He knows it’s a fucking amazing script and can’t wait to get praised for it. A shining red cherry atop his fabulous sundae is all he wants.

Cas scratches his throat, head bobbing, “Yeah, uh, it’s great, Dean. There is-… There’s, uh, so much about this that’s working.”

“Well, you hired me to do a different kind of wrestling show,” Dean winks, his cheeks blushing pink as the heat rises.

“Mission accomplished,” Cas chuckles and rubs his mouth. He then lets out a small sigh, “Hey, uh, you know what? Let’s take the rest of the day off, alright? Have some drinks.”

“Drinks? What? Why?”

Uh-oh.

“Yeah, let’s not… Let’s have a welcome party,” Cas announces loud enough for the girls to hear, who come running like coyotes and flock around the producer. “I mean, you and I have known each other for twenty years. Some would even say I’m your closest friend and like family–”

“You’re not…”

“–but they’re all new, you know? Let’s get to know each other. Who wants to go to Malibu, huh?”

“I do!”

“Yes!”

Dean sighs deeply on the inside, hiding his misery. He knows what it means when a producer invites you for fucking drinks at their mansion. His script sucks – according to their shitty opinion, at least.

The women chatter excitedly now, planning outfits and make-up. Most of them have probably never even been to Malibu. Dean hates driving there and is annoyed Cas is making him take an hour-long trip through LA traffic just to tell him the producer doesn’t like his script. Why can’t he just do that now? Fucking politics.

The women are thrilled, except for Strindberg, who’s still showing no interest in either the producer or the party and quietly sneaks into the changing rooms.

Cas was able to take one more person in his chopper and picked Joanna. Dean’s glad because he didn’t want to drive that annoying woman and knows she hasn’t exactly made friends with the other girls. She’s more of a lone wolf, mostly because she bites everyone that comes close. Funnily enough, though, all the girls love Meg.

“Dean! Wait!”

As Dean strolls across the parking lot to the Impala, his ears instantly perk up when Strindberg’s sweet voice sounds behind him like a siren call. He stops and glances over his shoulder to see her come running after him with his script in her hand. His heart warms and enters into a direct competition with the glowing California sun.

Once the young actress has caught up to him, she finds his eyes, “Uh, can I ask you a quick question?”  

Wow. That’s the first time she’s speaking without being spoken to. Maybe the bit of damage control was enough and finally earned him some forgiveness.  

“Sure, sweetheart. Shoot,” Dean smiles widely at her. The blonde bitch has already left with Cas, so he can finally be as nice as he wants and enjoy the warm sunshine on his skin. Life is good.

“So, uh, how important is it that we all go to this thing? Because I was thinking I should probably go home and work on my lines, you know? See if I can go off-book by tomorrow,” she explains.

Oh Strindberg, you little nerd...

Regardless, Dean feels flattered that she’s excited about her role and is already giving it her all. At least she appreciates his hard work, even though Dean knows she’s not a fan of his script, either. He could tell by her various facial twitches while she read his stage directions. Nevertheless, she’s still loyal and protecting his vision. It makes his heart dance with pride – and his dick, well, don’t ask. The poor fella is suffering terribly.

“You don’t wanna suck up to the producer like your pal Joanna?” Dean smirks tongue-in-cheek, lifting an eyebrow.  

Y/N matches his smile a little, recognizing it as harmless teasing. “Uhm, kinda trying to keep a safe distance from my pal Joanna these days.”

“Don’t overthink it, Y/N,” Dean encourages her and shrugs his shoulders, “It’s just a party.”

“Last time I went to a party with Jo, I slept with her husband,” she retorts and shoots him a raised look.

“Right, uhm, well…,” Dean splutters and scratches the back of his neck, mixing in a few clearing coughs. “Lucky for you, the wimp’s not invited this time, so come on, Strindberg, you need some fun. Do you need a ride? You can ride with me.”

Oh God, Dean needs to stop before he becomes the desperate attention whore.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take my car,” Y/N casually wipes his offer off the table and starts rummaging for her keys in her purse.

“Hey, Y/N! Can I ride with you?” Donna comes jogging up to them with a bright smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Y/N replies happily, the women instantly linking their arms and starting to stroll to the yellow Golf Cabrio, ignoring his existence.

Is Dean fucking invisible to everyone? What about his praise? What about his reward, huh? Strindberg is still his favorite, though. That’s probably why her rejection hurts so much.

“Hey boss, can I ride with you?” Billie approaches him, grinning.

“Sure,” Dean replies with a small sigh of frustration and opens the passenger’s door for her. The other girls have already left, squeezing themselves into party girl’s limo.

“Great,” Billie sneers before her expression darkens, “Then we can talk about how you didn’t write me a part in your jerk-off space opera.”

His smile falters, broad and proud shoulders slumping. “It’s a post-nuke dystopia, thank you very much,” Dean snaps defensively.

Their glaring contest only gets interrupted when Jailbait suddenly runs up to the Impala and tries to slide into the backseat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… what are you doing?” Dean stops her from touching his Baby and grabs her wrist before it reaches the door handle. How come all these women want to hitch a ride with him, but the one woman he actually wanted to take rejected him? It was supposed to be his fucking happy day.

“There wasn’t enough room in the limo,” Jailbait explains, shrugging. Dean should probably also stop calling her that. Her name is Claire; he remembered it. “Also, can I just say that this script was your best work since Blood-Dye,” she informs him enthusiastically, her eyes wide and full of admiration for his genius. “It has the surrealist quality of your early works but with a more subversive message about the limitations of feminism and nuclear power.”

A wide and cocky smile shapes on his lips as Dean glances at Billie. “See? She gets it.” He then nods approvingly at Claire, opening the backseat door for her. “Alright, kid. Get in.”

And that’s why Jailbait is still around and is his second favorite. Who else would pour some sugar on him otherwise, huh? And Dean’s fucking weak and needs praise, too.

So, shitty Malibu party here they fucking come.

7. Another Brick In The Wall

See? Dean’s every writer on tumblr 😂 Ready for your first Malibu producer party tomorrow? 🥳🍾

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06​ @luci-wiggles​

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 23- Pamela

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As you all sat around the small room trying to work out what was going on, Bobby mentioned his friend you could go see.

When Sam tried to question Dean about hell all he said was he couldn't remember but you had seen the fear in his eyes, it was the same fear that had plagued you for the past four months.

As you all made your way to the cars Dean came behind you “Ready to ride in baby again” he whispered wrapping his arms around you.

“Think I'm gonna ride with Bobby “ you smiled sadly turning away from him.

“Try to keep up“ Bobby grinned.

“What was that?” Bobby asked as you both hit the road.

“What do you mean?” you played dumb turning your head towards the window.

And Bobby left it at that knowing you were not yet ready to talk.

As you all arrived Bobby knocked on the door. It was thrown open and the gorgeous brunette threw her arms around Bobby.

“Bobby so nice to see” She smiled squeezing him and lifting him.

Sam and Dean looked at her impressed.

“So this is the boys “ she eyed them up grinning. “but I thought you said..” then she stopped and looked at you.

She smiled wide and took both your hands “ There she is” and pulled you in for a hug.

“Nice to see you too Pam but I would very much like to breath” you laughed.

Then she turned to Dean and hummed to herself and you saw Dean smirk at her, you felt a pang in your chest but on the outside, you were stone-faced.

“Pamela Barnes best damn psychic in the state” Bobby smiled proudly.

“Dean Winchester out of the fire and back in the frying pan, “ she asked “Makes you a rare individual.”

“If you say so“ Dean stuttered.

“But not as rare..” and when she caught the look on your face she stopped. “Never mind not my business to say.”

“So did you hear anything?” Bobby asked.

“No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why,” Pamela answered inviting you all into the house.

“So what's next?” Bobby asked.

Pamela shrugged “A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.”

“You're not gonna Summon the damn thing here,” Bobby exclaimed.

“No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.” Pamela answered not convincing anyone.

You looked at Bobby concerned and he sighed walking after her.

As you sat around the table you joined hands and closed your eyes.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.” Pamela began to chant. I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easily. “

“Castiel” Dean questioned.

“It’s name “ Pamela answered “ he's warning me to turn back.

As the table shook you pleaded “Please,  Pamela stop”

“I've got it “ she answered.

You looked at Sam scared and your head flung to Pamela as she screamed as her eyes burned.

“I can't see” she kept repeating.

“Call 911” you shouted at Bobby and held Pamela “ It's okay we got you.” Not really sure what the hell was going on.