#deanxyou fluff

[imagining-supernatural]

Roll With It

Drabble request by anon: Hi there! Heard that your drabble requests were open so I had to stop by. Fluffy one with Dean and "I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses"? as a prompt. What do you think? Love your work! <3

Word Count: 1114

Warnings: Wine and cute puppies

Version en Español: Déjate Llevar

“How wasted are you?”

“Sam! You’re here!” You threw your arms around him, nearly punching him in the face in the process. “What a surprise! I didn’t know you were coming over!”

He patted you on the back slowly. “You are so wasted. You texted me half an hour ago telling me to get Dean and get our asses over here.”

“Dean?! He’s here too?” Straining to see out the open door, you would have fallen over if not for Sam catching you.

With him holding you up, you felt his chuckle rumble from his chest. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Once both Winchesters were in your house, Dean started making you food and Sam was poking his nose all around your living room and kitchen. Even completely sober, having your two best friends here would make you happy. But as drunk as you were, you were completely over the moon and in disbelief that a girl could get as lucky as you.

“Mmm, that smells gooood.” You sidled up to Dean, misjudging the distance and tripping into him. Luckily, you didn’t burn yourself on the stove. “I need to get me one of you. Someone to cook for me and clean for me and—” you gasped in excitement. “You can be number eleven on my new list!”

“What list?” He carefully steered you over to a kitchen chair and pushed your shoulders until you sat down.

“This one?” Sam came back into the kitchen holding the list you’d been making earlier tonight. Then your glass of wine turned into a whole bottle and, well, here you were.

“That one!”

Sam looked at the paper and the corner of his lip curved up. “Number eleven you said?”

“What’s number eleven?” Dean snatched the paper from Sam. “Kisses?”

“Yeah! You see, at work today some… some…” Your inebriated brain was not able to find the right word, so you just waved your hand. The Winchesters would understand. “Some person came and talked to us about how we need to get the most from our lives and do what we want and get what we want so I made a list of what I should have and I realized that I’m too pretty and smart and funny to not have someone to kiss me every day. I need hugs and kisses every day!”

Sam just raised an eyebrow at your explanation and started at the beginning of the list. “Number one: Jaguar.”

“I need that car. I deserve that car.” It was just a fact.

“Number two: Dogs.”

A squeal of excitement escaped your lips and you started crying. “Puppies! They’re so damn cute with their eyes and paws and bark! Bark! Woof! And the big dogs are soooo precious! Woof! Boof! I need dogs!”

Neither Winchester seemed to know what to do with a drunk woman sobbing over how adorable dogs were in her kitchen. Sam looked at Dean. “You ever see her this drunk before?”

“No. She’s gonna have a wicked hangover tomorrow.”

*****

They were right. Your hangover was killing you, but not quite as bad as the memories that came trickling in.

Had you really told Dean he should kiss you every day?

Oh, God, how embarrassing.

All throughout the morning as you showered, dressed, and made breakfast, you couldn’t forget that embarrassment.

“Note to self,” you mumbled as you wrestled with your hair. “Hide phone before getting the wine out.”

When you were ready for the day, you grabbed your shopping list, but noticed Dean’s jacket on the back of your sofa. Oh boy. Giving that back to him was going to be so embarrassing. Seeing him at all after last night would be torture. What he must think of you now. You weren’t supposed to share that list with anyone much less explain everything on it.

Well, you thought to yourself as you grabbed the jacket and headed for the door, best to get this over with.

You made the twenty-minute drive to the Bunker and took a deep breath before getting out of your car and walking to the front door. It took you a good minute to get the courage to actually knock. What if Dean answered the door? What would you do then? Maybe you should just—

“Y/N?” Sam opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

Lifting the hand that held Dean’s jacket, you gave him a tight smile and you were sure your cheeks were bright red. “Dean left this last night. Thought I’d bring it back before the embarrassment completely killed me.”

His relaxed laugh made you feel slightly better. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was a really entertaining night for both of us.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t the one who was crying over dogs and making a goal to find someone to kiss you every day.”

Sam tossed his arm around your shoulder and guided you down the stairs. “We’ve all been there. Different things, but still embarrassing. It helps to just roll with it.”

“Roll with it? I basically told Dean to come be my housewife.”

He shrugged again, a secret smile toying with his mouth. “So? Just roll with it. He’s just in his room.”

Sam left you and went into the kitchen. The rest of the way to Dean’s room, you were talking yourself up. Roll with it.

A knock on his door and his low, “Come in,” pushed you past the point of no return. Upon seeing you walk in, Dean sat up fully on his bed. “What are you doing here so early?”

Roll with it.

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” Your smile, while not completely relaxed, wasn’t quite as forced as you would have thought. Dean chuckled and any tension you had left in your body disappeared. You lifted up the jacket again. “Actually, you left this at my place last night.”

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, slowly strolling towards you. “Thanks for bringing it back.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for making me dinner last night.”

Dean reached out and grabbed the jacket from you, his fingers brushing yours and sending a spark up your arm. “You were right, by the way.”

“About what?” Please be about how dogs are so cute. Please be about the dogs.

Instead, your heart completely stopped when his other hand came up to trail down your cheek. “A girl like you deserves someone to kiss her every day.”

Roll with it.

“You offering?”

His answer came in the form of his lips on yours. Looks like you just found someone to cross off number eleven on your list.

Add Yourself To My Taglist Here! 

Mobile Masterlist

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Breathe - Chapter Three

After the biggest meeting of her career, Y/N went for a drink and met him. Dean Winchester, the handsome bartender at The Shop, who managed to say all of the right things to soften her hard shell. Was it possible that Y/N was wrong all of this time? Had she spent the better part of 2 decades focusing on her career when there was one man in a city of 18 million that could make her feel more alive than any job ever could? Will she be able to slow down long enough to let herself fall in love with a man that was never a part of the plan? After years of holding her breath, will she finally let herself breathe again?

This story is written for my beautiful and talented friend and beta @dean-winchesters-bacon, thanks for always inspiring me and supporting my whims. Love you always.

Banner by the talented @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three

Her

Y/N woke up groggy with a pressure on the inside of her skull threatening to crack her head open and spill everything out. Her temples throbbed insistently and a wave of nausea hit her as soon as she opened her eyes. The gloomy, dark skies hid the sun from bleeding in through the open curtains, but it still felt too bright for her hangover. Everything felt slow and sluggish, like she was trying to walk under water. 

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and a streak of mascara darkened her skin. She rarely forgot to take off her makeup, and she knew her skin would punish her for it later. She yawned and squinted at the window. She didn’t usually leave her black out curtains up… in fact, she never opened them. 

There are moments that are subtle, brief and fleeting like the first flake of snow of the season. Sometimes they go completely unnoticed and unremembered. Other moments are big, grand, powerful enough to move mountains and change a person’s life forever.

As Y/N looked around the apartment, her surroundings coming together like a puzzle that finally clicked together seamlessly, she experienced one of those astronomical, mounting moving moments. 

This was not her apartment.

“The fuck…” 

Quickly orienting herself, she tried to find any kind of identifying information to tell her where she ended up and who she may have gone home with. It was not like her to be so reckless. 

The apartment was tidy, but, by the simple decor and smell of the sheets she was able to discern that the apartment definitely belonged to a man. She pinched the bridge of her nose to quiet an oncoming headache. She didn’t even remember a man from the night before that she could’ve gone home with. Oh how the mighty have fallen, she thought solemnly. 

She glanced under the blanket that was hiding her bottom half, happy to find that she still had her dress and panties in place. She had to admit, though, that the situation was confusing. She didn’t have sex last night, that she was fairly sure of, but in that case… Why was she in a strangers apartment? It didn’t make any sense. 

She slipped out of bed, finding her heels resting neatly on the floor next to the bed, placed with care. 

Who would take her home and just tuck her into bed? That was something a friend did, or a boyfriend. Her stomach twisted as Sam’s face flashed in her mind. His kind hazel eyes wrinkling at the edges as he smiled at her. He would take care of her in that way without question, and that thought terrified her. She’d avoided his apartment for so long for that exact reason. She couldn’t risk him getting the wrong idea. 

She picked up her shoes, not wanting to risk clicking on the hardwood floors and alerting the mystery man. As she poked her head around the room separator she was hit with the smell of cooking. Her mouth watered immediately at the savory smell of meat sizzling on the stove and something sweet that she couldn't quite place. Y/N did not cook. Her kitchen was purely aesthetic. She wouldn't even know how to turn her oven on, let alone use it, so the smells were new and warming. If the food tasted as good as it smelled, she may have a reason not to sneak out after all. Her stomach growled in agreement, and she resisted the urge to shush it. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice said, gruffly and familiar. Her eyes followed the sound of the voice and caught his green eyes from across the apartment. 

The bartender! You went home with the goddamn bartender?! You’re better than this, Y/N. You aren’t twenty anymore. 

“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, her voice strained and awkward. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyebrow quirked in response. “I’m almost done with breakfast. Do you have time to have a seat?” 

She shifted her weight awkwardly. The mix of her own vulnerability, the smell of bacon grease, a hangover, and how undeniably attractive he was had her reeling. The answer should’ve been no immediately. She had enough problems without adding a man to the mix, but yet there she was, considering it. 

“You good, Y/N?” 

The sound of her name snapped her out in an instant. Her shoulders rolled back, and her grip tightened on her heels. “I’m fine. I should get going.”

“Big day?” he asked, his eyes flashing with something mischievous. 

“Every day is a big day if you make it big.” 

“That sounds exhausting.” He pulled a pan off the stove. “Do you ever have days where you do nothing?” 

She squinted at him. This guy is kidding, right? “That doesn’t sound very productive.” 

“So I guess that’s a no,” he said with a chuckle. “You should try it. No plans. Just relax and go with the flow.” 

“Don’t you have to plan to have a day like that? So it’s not really without a plan.”

“You got me there.” Dean laughed, crossing his arms. “Do you always plan out your own days?” 

“Yes. What kind of question is that?” 

“I was just wonderin’ if you ever let anyone else plan things for you.” He shrugged. 

“Absolutely not.” 

He walked toward her, his height overcoming her as he approached. He wore a pair of jeans, socked feet, and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His hair was messy from sleep, but his eyes were wide, awake, and engaged. “Are you afraid to lose control?” 

“No.” Yes. 

“Let me plan a day for you, Y/N.” His voice was silky and thick like honey, tickling her cheeks as he brushed her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, feeling taken aback from his sudden intensity. She half expected her skin to catch fire from the electricity bouncing between their chests to the beat of her racing heart. 

“Dean I…” 

“Hey, before you say anything hear me out,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. Her lips pressed together, giving him only a moment to make his case - which was more than she allowed most people. “I know you’ve got all the reasons in the world to say no. You don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but you’re a professional. I can see that, hell anyone can see it just by lookin’ at you. Y/N, you should know that there is risk in the world, and you could miss out on some of the best things in life if you don’t take it. Someone took a chance on you once, didn’t they?” 

He was breathing heavily, obviously a little worked up, and the sight of his body twisted up in ragged breaths sent a chill up her spine. The risk he was talking about was not the same thing as her job, as law school, as every tough case she had ever taken. He was out of line trying to make it seem like they were even on the same plane of reality. Even though she knew all of that, she still found herself wanting the impossible, the outrageous. 

“Take a risk on me, Y/N.”

She wanted a life that could move mountains. She always had. She wanted to say yes. 

Dean

Later

“Hold up, hold up. You’re going on a date?” 

Dean shrugged, running his fingers through his hair in the bathroom mirror, unable to keep one spot from sticking straight up. “I don’t know if it’s a date or not. I’m just gonna give her some fun. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

“So it is a date.” 

“Sammy, you need to relax,” Dean said, waving his younger, half brother away. Dean’s parents had divorced after he was born, and a year later Dean’s mom fell in love with Sam’s dad, and the boys had been together ever since. “My romantic life isn’t your concern.” 

“Sure it is,” Sam said with a laugh, sitting on Dean’s bed. He moved the room divider when he’d entered the apartment to give himself somewhere comfortable to sit, and was currently lounging across the large mattress. “I don’t want you to die alone.” 

“Nobody is dyin’.” 

“We are all dying, Dean. Technically.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“I don’t see your point,” Sam said with a frown, his eyebrows coming together. 

“How’s mom?” 

“She’d like to see you.” 

Dean exhaled sharply from his nose. He didn’t see Mary nearly enough. She lived out in New Jersey and it still felt like a betrayal to his dad going out to visit her frequently. Plus, he spent most of his days in The Shop. There was always an excuse, even though none of them seemed good enough. “Miss her too.” 

“You should call her.” 

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom to eye his brother. “I don’t need a lecture, Sammy.” 

“Hey you asked.” His brother was quiet for a beat before sitting up. “So… I got the case.” 

“What?! Why didn’t you lead with that! I would’ve taken the night off to take you out to celebrate. This is huge news!”

“Wait, you’re going to work? I thought you were going on a date?”

Dean shrugged, “She said I could have her time Sunday morning. From eight to ten thirty.” 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You want to go out with someone that stringent?” 

Dean shoulders lifted again, “Guess so.” He walked out and sat next to his brother. “But this isn’t about me. I’m really proud of you, brother. You’ve worked really hard for this.” 

Sam’s cheeks reddened a bit, and he reached behind his head, scratching his neck awkwardly. “Thanks. I’ve really been trying, and I’m excited for the opportunity. I know they’re taking a chance on me and it means a lot.” 

“They’re making the right choice, Sammy. You’re damn good at your job. It’s too late for me to get a replacement, but come by, and I’ll get you dinner and drinks on the house.” 

“I’ll just ride with you then. We can split a cab.” 

Dean grinned at his brother, squeezing his shoulder. “You got it, kid.” 

He could still see little Sammy with his bright eyes staring up at him. He had all of these grand dreams that were so big. For a while he wanted to be president, and Dean believed that he could do it. Sam had the heart and the drive to do anything he put his mind to, maybe that was the draw Dean  had to Y/N. She reminded him of the same fire he saw in his brother. 

“What about the woman you’re talking to?” 

Sam let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I dunno Dean. She might hate me.” 

“She’d be stupid to hate you, kid. You’re a goddamned catch.” He slid his wallet and phone in his pocket, and offered a hand to Sammy so he could pull him up. “Fight for her. That’s all you can do.” 

His little brother looked up at him knowingly and nodded, clasping their hands together. He pulled Sam up, looking up at his younger brother who towered over him by at least three inches. “I will,” Sam agreed, “I’ll fight for her. 

“Good. Now let's go get you a drink.” 

“Or five.”

“Or five.” 

Her

“Give me your hand.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow before offering her palm. 

The fiery red head in front of her consisted of her one guilty pleasure in this world. Rowena McCloud. The self proclaimed witch was cheaper than a therapist any day of the week, and she provided tea leaves that were usually the only thing, other than two fingers of whiskey, that put Y/N to sleep after a long, stressful day. 

Rowena ran her long manicured nails along the lines of Y/N’s palms. “You’ve met someone.” 

Here she goes again. Why did I even come here? Y/N asked herself every time that she came to the tea shop for a visit. Why did she come? She knew the answer, but saying it out loud was too fucking pathetic for words. 

She had no friends, and her relationship with her mother was strained at best. So who else was she supposed to talk to about her issues? She could always ignore them, but that was like cutting wires at random, just hoping the one she was cutting wasn’t the trip wire that would explode her entire life. Bottling up emotions caused frown lines and acne break-outs, and she was too damn old for pimples. So she’d ended up with a Scottish witch examining her love line a little too closely. 

“Have not.” 

“Oh come on, Y/N, you have.” Her green eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s, her red painted lips curled into an ornery smirk. “I can tell. You’re flushed. What’s his name.” 

“There is no him.”

“Fine. Then what’s her name.” 

Y/N pulled her hand away and crossed her arms in annoyance. “Give me a break, Rowena.”

“I cannot, I'm afraid, but I can make you tea.” 

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but smile as the woman turned away. Even twenty-plus years her senior, they still meshed well together. She looked at her as a second mother, or even better, a friend. If she knew how to have those, of course. 

“Why did you come here?” 

“I didn’t get the promotion.” 

“Ah.” 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Y/N said, a bite to her words. “I deserved it.” 

“Of course you did,” Rowena said smoothly as she poured a dark, steeped liquid into the small tea cup. “But you’ll have something better.” 

“If you say love I’m going to come across this table and smack you.”

The witch laughed at that, the skin crinkling around her eyes in amusement. “I was going to say sex.” 

“I am having sex,” she said with a huff. 

“Not sex that you enjoy.” 

It was a bold statement. A bold statement that Y/N wasn’t confident that she could disagree with. She thought she enjoyed it, but she never had anything outside of other meaningless connections to compare it to. She’d never wanted more, though. Her one love was her job and that’s how it was always supposed to be. At least before her job royally fucked her. Maybe it was time she started thinking about herself, instead of the firm. 

“I enjoy sleeping with him.” 

“You hesitated, love. It’s mighty okay to be unsatisfied. Well, it isn’t okay, but it’s normal. You don’t have to stand for it.” 

She waved Rowena off dismissively, “It’s fine.” 

Rowena shook her head, her deep red curls bouncing. “Oh sweetie. It shouldn't be fine. It should be electric, hot, passionate. You aren’t living your best life if your sex is just fine.” Her green eyes flashed as she grinned. “You must’ve not slept with him yet, or you wouldn’t be so casual.” 

“You’re obsessed.” 

“Aren’t you? You said yes to him, after all.”

“I had to get him off my back. He was persistent. He wouldn’t take no as an answer.” 

Take a risk on me, Y/N.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me.” Rowena tapped the lip of the cup with her index finger. “It’s all in the leaves.” 

Y/N looked down into the cup that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been sipping. The mushed, wet leaves were at the bottom of her cup, and maybe she just had it on the mind or maybe Rowena was right and magic was in the air, but she could’ve sworn that they looked just like a heart. Lumpy, misshapen, but like one nonetheless. 

Dean

Part of Dean worried that she wouldn’t show. That would be his luck. Maybe he would deserve it after being a little too intense. Take a chance on me. Who the fuck did he think he was? He didn’t normally come off that strong. 

She wouldn’t let him pick her up. “What if you’re a serial killer?” Evidently he hadn’t earned her trust yet, even though he was a perfect gentleman the night before. “A woman can’t be too safe, Dean.” He liked the way she said his name. She sounded annoyed, but amused at the same time. She couldn’t quite keep up the unimpressed expression. He made it a personal goal to make her smile more than she frowned. She’d look amazing with laugh lines. Everyone should have them. 

Lisa often complained about the lines on her face, and she painted makeup over them to hide the creases and curves. Dean had loved them. They told the story of her life. Laugh lines showed a long, happy life full of laughter and joy. He could never understand why she would want to hide them. It was beyond him. 

He was meeting Y/N in front of the restaurant.  He held two disposable cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other, leaning against the building. He watched people stroll past. They weren’t watching their surroundings, constantly staring straight forward. That was the downside to New York City, no one was interested in the now. All they cared about was the next thing. He supposed it made sense that no one stopped to smell the roses in a city made of steel and concrete. There were no flowers to smell, only exhaust. 

Dean, on the other hand, believed in things that were beautiful. There was always something good to see.

In front of him, a woman bundled her baby in a ball of blue, fluffy blanket to keep him protected from the autumn chill. A man jogged with his dog, whose tongue was out, having the time of his life. A man in a suit, who kissed a woman goodbye as he stepped out of a cab. And her. 

Y/N stood across the street, fumbling around her purse for something. He could see her eyebrows furrow even from that distance. She wore a pair of black pants tucked into black boots and a long burgundy sweater. A curl fell into her eye, the rest of her hair tucked into a wide-brimmed hat. She looked different than she had the day before, and he took note of everything about her to add to his mental collection right next to the way she looked first thing in the morning, how she looked when she was angry, and the way her voice sounded when she was drunk. He was excited to learn all he could about her. What was her favorite food? What was her ideal temperature? How did she like her coffee? 

He wanted to know her, even with the high probability that she would hurt him. He figured that pain was something, and something had to be better than the emptiness he’d been feeling. Pain at least meant that he was still alive. 

—————————————

Chapter Four

Masterlist

Read on A03 Here

Tag List:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@akshi8278

@waywardbaby

@7hunnyybunnyy7

@atc74

@deanwinchesterswitch

@onethirstyunicorn

@thoughts-and-funnies

@elliloumom

@smol-and-grumpy-recs

@deandreamernp

@deangirl93

@waywardbeanie

@440mxs-wife

@whatareyousearchingfordean

@sunflowers-n-rocknroll

@that-one-gay-girl​

@deanmonandnegansbitch​

@hobby27​

@moron225​

[jiminisjamin]

Christmas Spirit (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/n is decorating for the holidays, and she gets Dean to help her.

Warnings: Language.

Rating: Fluff.

Word Count: 1,329

Title: Christmas Spirit.

        Y/n helps Sam straighten the tree and her lips curl into a small, warm smile as she sighs softly, and steps back to admire her and Sam’s work. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply, briefly letting herself get lost in the crisp scent of pine. Dean steps through the doorway, a large box of lights and other decorations in his arms. A small smile spreads over his face, and he stops for second to watch her in the moment before he slams the box down on the table. She whirls around, her eyes wide in surprise.

    “Dean?” Her voice is shocked, as if she hadn’t expected him to go get the items she’d asked him for a few hours ago. Dean nods, and rips open into the box, skillfully snagging an item out and sliding it up his sleeve.

    “Yeah, ‘s me princess.” He tilts his head, nodding at the box. “I got the stuff-you’re welcome by the way.” Y/n rolls her eyes slightly, and practically skips over to the box, eliciting another small smile from Dean. She grabs the box of lights, and tosses it carefully to Sam.

    “Well, you didn’t seem to happy about it, so I didn’t think you’d do it.” She murmurs, glancing up at him before turning away and hurrying back over to the tree.

    Dean hadn’t wanted to get the decorations, but not because he didn’t want to get the decorations, he hadn’t wanted to leave her. Sure, he’d been lounging on the couch, drinking a beer and watching her put decorations up, but damn if he didn’t love that. His lips quirk up into a lopsided grin, and he tilts his head, his eyes darting up and down, unsure of where to focus as she all but dances around the tree, stringing the lights around the tree, with the occasional help of a grinning Sam. Dean raises his eyebrows, shaking his head and straightening up as he walks over, plopping back down onto the couch. Y/n glances over at him, her smile faltering slightly.

    “You aren’t going to help?” She asks. Dean shrugs.

    “I went out and got the lights, does that not count, sweetheart?” She rolls her eyes, turning away from him briskly.

    “Fine, we didn’t want your help anyways. You’d make the tree all ugly,” she sniggers at her own insult, and nudges Sam, “get it? Because he’s not good at decorating?” She stage whispers. Sam chuckles, and shakes his head. She glances over her shoulder, and winks at Dean, giving him a big grin. “Why not get in the spirit, Dean-o.” Dean rolls his eyes. He does stand up though, and moves over to her.

    “Alright, y/n/n.” He holds his hand over her head. “Wow, look at that.” He murmurs, his eyes widening as a look of complete shock crosses his face. “Is that…mistletoe? Oh, well. Looks like we gotta kiss now.” Y/n’s gaze rolls up to the mistletoe in Dean’s hands, and he dangles it in the air.

    “Ugh, come on Dean.” His lips quirk into a smile.

    “What? Why not get in the spirit, y/n?” He shakes the plant above her head a few times. “It is tradition.” She rolls her eyes, and peers up at him.

    “Just go sit back on the couch,” she grumbles. “If you’re not going to help, that is.” Dean’s jaw clenches, and he tosses the mistletoe back to the couch.

    “Fine, fine. What can I do?” Her eyes light up slightly, and she hands him an ornament.

    “Help me hang these?” He grabs an ornament from her, and hangs it on the tree.

    “Is there fine?” He asks.

    “It doesn’t matter, Dean. Hang it wherever,” a smile small creeps onto her face. “It’s just nice that you’re helping finally.” Dean grins.

    “Are you really that tired of Sammy?” He teases and grabs another ornament, hanging it a little higher than the other one. She shakes her head slowly, and glances at Sam.

    “No, he just said that it would be impossible to get you to help.” Sam shrugs at his brother, and wipes his hands on his jeans.

    “This is great and all, but I’m gonna take a break,” Sam says, heading over to the couch, giving his brother a discreet wink. “I’ve been helping all day, it’s Dean’s turn.”

      Dean hands y/n the last ornament to hang, and she smiles. “Now it’s time for tinsel,” she murmurs softly, grabbing some silver strings and passing a handful to Dean. He suppresses a groan as she flings some on the tree, smiling brightly. Suddenly, he’s hit with an idea, and his eyes light up. Dean moves forward quietly, unclumping the tinsel as best he can. “Dean, could you put some on the oth- what are you…” Dean sprinkles the tinsel around y/n, and she gasps, giggling softly. “D-Dean,” she throws some of the tinsel at him in defense, backing up.

    “Y/n!” She tumbles over a box, unable to catch herself in time and falls to the ground, laying down under the doorway in defeat. Dean hurries over to her, discarding the tinsel. “Are you okay?” He asks, brushing the silver strings off her shoulders and out of her hair. She grins up at him, and nods.

    “Yeah, I’m fine.” She grins up at him, and reaches her hand up to pluck a strand of tinsel out of his hair, tossing it to the side. Dean smiles, his eyes lighting up as he helps her to her feet.

    “You’ve gotta be more careful, sweetheart.” He whispers. “You’re so damn clumsy, it’s not safe.” She scoffs, and rolls her eyes.

    “Am not,” she murmurs, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “I just…wasn’t paying attention, that’s all.” Dean chuckles, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face.

    “Was I too distracting?” He winks, and y/n pretend gags, pulling away from him.

    “You ruined the moment Winchester.”

    “Moment?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Were we having a moment?” She shrugs.

    “Maybe, but you ruined it.”

    “That does sound like me: a damn fool.” She closes her eyes, and laughs.

    “Yeah…well, really Dean, thank you for helping me decorate.”

    “Any day sweetheart,” he murmurs. She steps forward, her gaze once again darting up to the doorframe.

    “Are you in the Christmas spirit yet, Dean?”

    “No-no-no,” Dean says dryly, his eyes sparkling. “Why do you ask?” Y/n shrugs, and sighs, gesturing up above their heads.

    “It’s a shame, we’re under the mistletoe.” She steps away from him. “But, since you’re not in the spirit, I guess it doesn’t count.” She begins to move away, and Dean’s gaze flits up, and he curses.

    “Did I say no? I meant yes,” he moves forward. “I’m in the Christmas spirit.”

    “It’s too late, Dean.”

    “I call redo,” Dean says. “Doesn’t count.”

    “You can’t call a redo, Dean.” She says, her lips betraying her and curling into a smile.

    “Ho-ho-hell yeah I can,” Dean bursts. “I’m the jolliest person here!” He holds his arms out to his side. “I’m so far into the Christmas spirit that I am the Christmas spirit,” Y/n giggle at his mini-speech. “C’mon…y/n/n.” He moves forward, and tilts her head up. “I take it back, I am in the Christmas spirit.” Y/n grins, and looks down at the ground.

    “Still, the time passed. Maybe if…maybe if we’re under the mistletoe again?” He shrugs, his arms wrapping around her as he lifts her in the air.

    “Sounds good to me,” he says, carrying her over to the doorframe.

   “Hey! I- I really don’t think this counts Dean.” Y/n huffs as he sets her down under the doorframe, stepping forward and pulling her close to him.

   “We’re under the mistletoe,” he murmurs. “Does that not count?” Y/n rolls her eyes, grinning at him.

    “Actually- we aren’t.” Dean’s gaze shoots up above him, and his eyes widen when he sees no mistletoe.

    “Who the hell-” His question is answered by his brother’s laughter, and he clenches his jaw. “Sammy!”

    _____________

Tags:

Don’t be afraid to ask to be added or removed at any time!

SPN Tags: @thatshellfiredean , @serenity-sam 

Liked it? Leave feedback! It helps me to know what you guys like, want to see more of, and what I can do to improve as a writer!

Request a Christmas/Winter themed story

[womanoflettersqueenofmoons16]

she waits for you chapter 4.

word count: 1304

warnings:teeth rotting fluff

a/n: been so busy lately sorry if this is trash. just had a hankering for some dean fluff and wanted to get it out. merry christmas everyone ;)

dean winchester was the missing piece in your life ever since he walked out of it all those years ago, when you were just kids in love. now you were both grown and could actually try to make it work, you would be an idiot to just let it go. of course, some people would think you were an idiot for dropping your career and your stable life to be with a guy who had no sense of stability or normalcy but you didn’t care. all your life you wanted normal but what you needed was dean. the next week or so was spent at your parents, getting them to and from their doctors appointments and taking care of them. sam and dean did as they said, and hung around the house, helping you take care of them and your parents were loving having all of you around. but after 2 weeks, they were almost back to full health and didn’t need all of you hovering over them. they knew you had a life to get back to, but what they didn’t know is that it was a brand new one with dean. you wanted to try it out before you got them worked up over it so you kept it a secret from them. you felt bad about keeping it from them, especially when you told sam but it wasn’t like you could move into the bunker suddenly without him wondering why. besides, sam wouldn’t freak out like you knew your dad would. your mom would be cool with it, probably even happy. but in no way, shape, or form would your dad not blow a fuse, probably landing himself back in the hospital. no, it was best you gave this thing a real shot before you told them. which meant leaving your parents, going back to seattle and packing up your old life. your boss knew of the family emergency and when you told them you had to leave, they were bummed you were leaving but told you that you could use them as a reference anytime. sam and dean helped you pack your apartment with all the necessities and you donated the rest. now it was time to say goodbye to your friends.

that was the hard part. you weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but decided on inviting them all out for drinks. alcohol would certainly help with the sting of leaving them all behind. while you were straightening your hair in the bathroom, dean snaked his hands around your waist and nipped at your collarbone. “you sure you want me to come with you babe? i don’t want to intrude on your night out with your friends. they might want to kill me, taking you away from them” he chuckled. “it’s not like i won’t ever see them again. besides, it’s important to me that they meet you, know that i’m in somewhat good hands.” he threw his head back laughing. “baby, you know these are the best hands you’ve ever had” he squeezed your side and kissed your cheek. “you do your girl…thing. i’ll be pre-gaming with sam” he left the bathroom so you could finish getting ready. after you straightened your hair you left it down, and applied some light makeup. now it was time to get dressed. choosing from what little clothing she had access to, you decided on a white v-neck band shirt, dark jeans, your thigh high black boots and a leather jacket. when you were finished, you grabbed your wristlet and it was time to leave. this would be the last time you were in your apartment. for a moment, you felt really sad about leaving but then you saw dean staring at you, wide-eyed and you felt nothing but happiness. “wow, babe. you look incredible” he said as he continued to look you up and down. “ok, pick your jaw up off the floor cowboy. we’re late” you giggled as dean grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him. “can’t we cancel and just video chat them a goodbye? i need you all to myself tonight” he grinned, pressing his lips against yours. you were lost until sam interrupted. “sorry to interrupt but we should really get going and i doubt you really want to say goodbye via video chat” he laughed at the last words, knowing his brother was totally serious. “fine, just for a bit. but then we’re coming back here and i’m gonna show you just how amazing i think you look tonight” there was that shit eating grin again and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you walked out the door.

your best friend was waiting outside the bar and wolf-whistled as you got out of the impala’s front seat. just as you opened your mouth to thank her, she moved past you and walked around the car. “now that is a beautiful car.” she stated and dean lit up. “now i know my girl made a good choice when she chose you as her best friend. i’m dean, that’s my brother sam” sam waved at her and she gave him the same admiring look that she was giving baby. yeah, it was a good idea to bring sam as well as dean. your friends were admiring their company so much and it took the heaviness off the night. some drinks, good food, a couple games of pool, more drinks and the night was over. it was time to say goodbye. you were ok until it was time to say goodbye to your best friend. “i’m gonna come visit you, and seduce sam all the time ok?” she laughed with tears in her eyes and you nodded fervently, tears streaming down your cheeks. “go be happy. you deserve it” she gave you one last squeeze and got in her car.

“you know we can stay for a few more days, make sure this is what you really want” dean spun you towards him, gently wiping the tears from your face. you cleared your throat and shook your head. “you’re all I've ever wanted, dean.” he grinned, kissing your forehead and lead you to the car. it was a quiet car ride as sam fell asleep in the backseat and dean was focused on the road. and you, you felt more emotions then you’ve felt in a long time and while it was a good thing, it was also overwhelming. dean squeezed your thigh as he switched on the radio. all out of love by air supply came on and to your surprise, dean kept it playing. you raised your eyebrow at him and he shrugged. “i dig it, don’t judge. ” you laughed and threw your hands up. “hey, no judgement here. just not a song i would have guessed you dug” he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “ truth is, i would listen to this on repeat when my dad made me get in that car after that week at your house. when i fell in love for the first time, knowing it would never work. i never stopped loving you y/n/h. i just..i need you to know that” his green eyes that were just stealing glances at you while he spoke were now focused on the road and you knew he wasn’t used to being so vulnerable. “ i never stopped loving you either dean. and now that i have you back in my life, i’m never letting you go” he smiled and turned up the song as you snuggled close to him, your head on his chest.  this was pure happiness and you meant what you said, you were never letting it go.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Getting less than 20 notes per story when you have over 1000 followers and none of them are reblogs is disheartening enough for me to want to quit writing but I guess its different for everyone

I can totally understand this. And this gives me the metric I was looking for. Thank you!! 

To be honest, I’m leaning more toward Tumblr being the problem instead of readers. I don’t think the fics are getting out there like they used to. Everyone’s dash is clogged with other stuff (I follow 340 blogs, I just unfollowed a bunch of inactive ones, and left another bunch of inactive ones there just in case they come back, leaving about 300 active blogs, and my dash is a MESS), so we rely on tags, notifications, mentions, whatever you want to call them. 

Personally, turning on notifications on a blog does make my phone chime every time they post. I’ve got about ten active blogs on my notification list right now. But turning on notifications for more than that would bog down my phone.

I don’t want to unfollow people, because on the rare occasion I want to cruise my dash, I like to see the variety I’ve got. But I also want a reliable way to know when, like, 100 different blogs post fics. Maybe I need to look into the old RSS feeds? Are they still a thing?

Anyway, I feel your pain. All I can suggest for you right now is to join the @spnfanficpond and submit your fics there to get greater exposure. If you write smut, submit to @dirtysupernaturalimagines or one of the other SPN imagines blogs. That’s how I found my original cache of writer friends. Also, make sure your hashtags are numerous. Like: #dean x reader #deanxreader #dean x you #deanxyou #spn fan fiction #spnfanfic #dean winchester #deanwinchester #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean angst #dean fluff #dean smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut. You get the idea. And tag me! If it’s not one of the few things I don’t read, I will reblog it!

This is a problem, and if anyone has some ideas for solutions, let me know!

[imagining-supernatural]

As It Seems: Chapter 17

Table of Contents

Según Parece: Lista De Contenidos

Summary: You and Dean finally get to his apartment where you find that you’re not alone

Word Count: 2915

Warnings: None

Beta’d by: @kclaire1

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

~Dean’s POV~

“Oh, baby I’ve missed you.” My fingers danced over the cool metal of the gorgeous Impala in front of me. It was as if I could hear the comforting, familiar rumble of her engine even as she sat in the reserved stall in the parking garage. She was just itching to get on the road again, and I was itching to be behind her wheel.

“I think I’ll give you two some alone time,” Y/N said with a small, tired smile. After two days of driving and an interlude to a hotel where not much sleeping happened at all, if you get my drift, we were both exhausted.

But I’d missed my car too much to head straight up to my apartment.

“Okay. I’ll see you up there. The code for the alarm is—”

“Dude. I’m your assistant. I had that system installed. If the alarm gets tripped, it’s set up for the company to call me before they call you. Just enjoy your car.”

“Right.” It was hard to figure out exactly how the dynamics between the two timelines fit in. In this one, we just barely started dating. In the other one, I’d been ready to marry her. But in this one, she was my assistant for longer that we’d been dating. As my assistant, she obviously knew my alarm codes, but since we just started dating in this one, it seemed kind of weird that she would practically have a key to my place. But we were also going to get married.

Thinking about the timelines made my head hurt.

“I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be asleep.” I didn’t doubt that one bit. She came over and gave me a brief kiss. “G’night, babe.”

I watched her walk to the elevators, the slight slump in her shoulders and lethargic movements of her legs showing just how tired she was. I briefly thought about the threat of Crowley or the dark government organization that we faced, but forced myself to relax. If someone was waiting for her, she could handle them, even as tired as she obviously was. That was just one of the many reasons I loved her.

And turning my attention back to my first love, I unlocked the doors and slid into the front seat. Just curling my fingers around the steering wheel seemed to center me and the stress from the last week seemed so far away. Memories from both timelines crowded in my head. Whether the memory was driving my baby towards a hunt, or driving her up to a black-tie event among all of the limousines that couldn’t hold a candle to her, I loved her just the same.

My impala, my brother, and my girl were the only constants between the timelines. As long as I had all three, I could handle anything life threw my way.

After a few more minutes of sitting in the heavy silence of the underground garage, I made my way upstairs. There was going to be a shit storm of things to handle at work tomorrow, but I was reunited with my car and I was going to wake up next to Y/N. I couldn’t ask for more.

The elevator door slid open silently, but my apartment wasn’t silent when I walked in. Y/N’s voice drew me towards the hallway with the bedroom. Was she on the phone? I thought she was going to go straight to sleep.

“No, no. It’s totally fine. You guys stay in the guest room. I was going to sleep with Dean in his room anyway—but not like, sleep with, sleep with. Not tonight, anyway, because it’s really late and we have to catch up at work tomorrow but—Dean!” She caught sight of me when I rounded the corner and cut off her exhausted babbling. I tilted my head at her in question for a second before I noted the other two people in the hallway. “Your parents are here.”

Oh.

Yeah.

“Shit, I forgot. You guys are here for that work conference, right, mom?” I covered the distance between us in two short steps and gathered my mom into my arms, holding on tightly.

She wasn’t dead here. She was very much alive and raised me and Sam and wasn’t killed by the yellow-eyed bastard.

God, it felt so good to hug her.

“I called you Sunday night when we showed up and you weren’t here. You told me that you were at Bobby’s with your team for a few days, remember?” She pulled back and looked up at me with a concerned and confused expression. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

This was definitely not an encounter I had planned for yet. It was like all of my timelines and realities and fantasies and nightmares were colliding. I dragged a hand down my face and tried to get the blood flowing again so I would stay awake long enough to explain everything to them.

“Yeah, sorry. We just drove two days straight and it was a stressful few days before that. It slipped my mind.” I avoided mentioning the bullet wound. Figured that wouldn’t help my mom sleep too well tonight.

“Seems like you forgot to mention to Y/N here that we were staying here too.” Dad pulled me in for a hug and I had the feeling that he was watching Y/N over my shoulder.

“No, no,” she quickly jumped in. “I actually bought your airplane tickets and Dean said not to get you a hotel room because you would be staying with him. I just… forgot too. It’s been a crazy few days.”

What an understatement.

“I’ll say,” my dad insinuated, linking me and Y/N with a meaningful look and waiting for an explanation.

Well, guess I should get this over with. “Mom, dad… Y/N and I are together.”

Y/N must have seen the calculating and doubtful look from my dad because she jumped in to clarify. Well, try to clarify anyway. She was great at handling her sleep deprivation in the professional workplace, but it seemed like a personal conversation with her boyfriend’s parents was a little out of reach.

“Like, dating-together. Not just sleeping together. Though, I mean, that’s also—shit, I really should shut up now.”

Thankfully, to balance out my dad’s dubiousness, my mom simply looked amused. “Sounds like you two could use a solid few hours of sleep before we get the full story.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Y/N breathed thankfully. I reached behind me and grabbed her hand. Just that small movement upset her balance and she took half a step forward to lean against me. “Sleep is all I can think about right now.”

“Then we should let you two get to it. We’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.” Mom didn’t phrase it like a question. I nearly argued that Y/N and I would have to go into the office early to get things done, but I knew I would get nowhere. Mom had latched onto the news that her playboy son might be settling down with one woman, and she wasn’t going to let me go that easily. I would bet that she was already imagining what her grandkids would look like.

Kids.

Shit.

Y/N and I could actually start a family here and not worry about demons, angels, or monsters using the kids as bait or weapons against us.

I have no idea what kind of look was on my face when I looked at her, but it was enough to break through her exhaustion and make her tilt her head. “What?”

“Nothing,” I quickly shook my head and tried to shake the image of a little Y/N or Dean Jr. But that wasn’t an image that seemed to be leaving my head anytime soon. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed. I’ll talk to my parents for a few more minutes.”

Relief flooded her eyes and she looked beyond me to where mom and dad were watching us very closely. “I’ll see you guys in the morning. Sleep well.”

“You too, Y/N. It really is good to see you again,” mom said with a smile.

Dad just nodded. I knew it was his personality to be cautious around people, and I knew that I didn’t have the best track record when it came to woman and real relationships, but it bugged me how he looked at Y/N like she wasn’t going to stick around much longer.

So when she took a few steps towards my bedroom door and her hand slipped out of mine, I decided to hell with it and stopped her just before she could disappear into the safety of the room. One of my hands landed on her hip and the other one rested on her jaw to guide her lips up to mine. Even that brief kiss sent shock waves through my body.

“I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

She glanced behind me at my parents for a second before returning her eyes to mine. “Take your time. I’ll be fine.”

She slipped into my room—our room. Our room.

“So, this thing between you two is pretty serious, then?” Dad’s gruff voice drew me away from the closed door.

“I’m going to marry her.”

Okay, so there was probably a better way to break the news to them. I could have probably been more tactful, given them more time to get used to the idea that I was in a serious relationship, tell them that Y/N was moving in first, before throwing that bomb on them, but I was quickly finding that holding in how I felt about Y/N wasn’t easy. I wanted the world to know.

*****

~Reader’s POV~

“That son of mine still asleep?” John’s gruff voice startled me out of my pre-coffee haze.

“Huh? Oh, no. He’s in the shower.”

John just inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Good. Don’t want him lazing around.”

That very nearly made me laugh. Dean lazing around? Sure, he enjoyed a drink often enough. And sure, he was known for sleeping around his fair share. But being lazy? He was the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company, and some secret vigilante on the side. Lazy was only in Dean’s dictionary when he was sick, which had only happened once in the year that I’d known him in this timeline.

“So, Y/N. Why are you with my son?”

It was a good thing that I hadn’t taken a drink of my coffee yet because I would have definitely choked on it. I hadn’t been expecting the interrogation until breakfast when all four of us were sitting down.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Is it for his money? His status?”

That’s what John thought about me? Sure, I wasn’t the best person. And I definitely wasn’t even close to being a good person in the other timeline. But to make assumptions like that?

I thought back to Dean’s declaration after I escaped to his room and decided to eavesdrop for a few more minutes. He’d just come right out and told his parents that he was going to marry me. No build-up, nothing. Just a slap in the face with the truth.

Well, maybe that’s what I needed to do. I needed to gather the confidence that had been shredded since I got my memories from the other timeline and start acting like I was good enough for Dean. Because like Sam said, we act like we are, then eventually we become it.

“I love him. I am in love with your son, John. He’s the best man I have ever known. If he lost everything today, I would still marry him. I would run out to the nearest courthouse and marry him today, if we could.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Dean said from the doorway. He strolled over and wrapped his arm around my waist, dipping his head long enough to peck me on the cheek. “Let’s just forget work and go to the courthouse today.”

With his hair a shade darker from the shower and the intoxicating scent of his body wash surrounding him, it was more tempting than he knew. Hell, if we weren’t in this timeline, I would be dragging him out of here.

But we were in this timeline.

“We can’t rob your mom of helping plan her oldest kid’s wedding,” I pointed out, trying to push away the uncomfortable feeling that was creeping in with John’s eyes on me and his son. I was good enough for Dean. John might not think so, and I might not completely believe it, but we would both have to get over that. Because I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Plus I think Addy wouldn’t be too happy if she couldn’t be the flower girl, right?”

Warmth flooded me, washing away the cold doubt from a few moments before. “Right. We gotta get her and my brother out here first.”

“Addy?” John asked.

“My niece. She’s the cutest kid ever.”

“Until I get some grandkids, right?” Mary asked, making quite the entrance.

Once again, I was glad I hadn’t taken a drink of coffee yet. Grandkids? I was trying to forget that I’d killed a daughter in the other timeline. I was trying to believe that I was good enough to marry Dean. I was trying to figure out how to balance my life. And grandkids? What?

“Patience, mom,” Dean’s fingers pressed into my hip reassuringly. “We’ve gotta get hitched first.”

“I gotta have my coffee first,” I mumbled just as the coffee pot finished. I untangled myself from Dean’s arm and poured myself a big mug full of the miracle bean juice.

“You mind pouring some for this old man too?”

I grabbed another mug for John. “Not at all. Mary?”

“I’m fine, but thank you, Y/N.” She leaned against the counter by John and eyed me up and down, no doubt trying to figure out if I had the right hips to bear her bow-legged grandchildren.

Kids.

Honestly.

Before I could delve too deep into the issue, which would inevitably lead to me reliving the dark days from the other timeline with my daughter, I poured the two mugs of coffee and handed one to John. Just after I took my first drink, Dean stole the mug from my hand and took a long drag.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“You didn’t ask me if I wanted one, so I figured you wanted to share.” God, that infuriatingly attractive smirk made it difficult to argue.

“You should know better than to steal a girl’s coffee.”

“But you’re my girl.” As if that made it better.

I fixed him with my best arched eyebrow boy you thought look as I snatched the mug back. “I won’t be for much longer if you keep stealing my coffee.”

He grinned and held up his hands in a playful surrender. Walking around me towards the cupboard with the mugs, he kissed my forehead as he passed. To think that just a few days ago I had been pushing him away. If I’d been successful, I wouldn’t have felt the sparkling bubbles dancing through my veins at his little gestures of affection like that.

“So, I was thinking we could get breakfast at Ralph’s,” Dean said as he poured himself some coffee. “Good food. Quick service. And it’s right down the street from our work, so we can spend a few extra minutes with you guys without feeling guilty or too rushed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mary chimed in and I had to bite my tongue to stop from snarking at John about how responsible and not lazy Dean was, no matter what he still though of his oldest son.

With our plans finalized and coffee in most of our systems, Dean and I headed to his room—our room, to finish getting ready, and John and Mary headed to the guest room.

As soon as we were alone, Dean turned to me with bright eyes. “Call your brother. See if he and Addy can come this weekend. I’ll pay for their flights, they can stay at your place, I’ll get Sam out here. We can get married this weekend.”

So maybe the coffee hadn’t quite kicked in, because I probably wasn’t hearing him correctly. “You want to pull off a wedding in one week? Dean, it’s Saturday. We’re going to be working practically non-stop for the entire weekend and most of next week just to catch up on the last week!”

“So? I’m sure mom will stay to help plan it. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just our families in a church. We can have a bigger ceremony in a few months with the photographers and flowers and dress and tux and guests. But I just… I want to get married now. I don’t want to wait.”

Was he feeling the same urgency that I was? All of this talk of timelines must have made my internal systems go on the fritz because I was losing track of time and feeling the weight of it so much more acutely.

But maybe he was right. Why put off a wedding? We were going to get married anyway. And both of us seemed to only want our family there so…

“Okay. I’ll call him. But you’re going to tell your parents that we’re getting married only a week after they found out that we’re dating.”

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List Doc Open Until Oct 31. Add Yourself HERE!

Add Yourself To My Taglist Here!

Mobile Masterlist

[imagining-supernatural]

You’re a Freaking Badass

Summary: The reader comes back from her friend’s wedding annoyed as all gets out because people don’t know how to mind their own business and Dean helps her calm down and remember that those people and their opinions don’t matter.

Word Count: 1189

Warnings: Mentions of weddings

A/N: I usually don’t write about specific events in my life, but dammit I just really needed to vent, and I also need Dean Winchester to comfort me, so here y’all go. Weddings suck. (And weddings in your hometown with all those people you grew up with and all of your parents’ friends suck even worse)

Dean looked up from the video he had been watching when the front door of the bunker opened. Y/N came in, her shoes dangling from her fingers and her hair a tangled mess from driving with the windows down.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean greeted. "How was the... reception...?"

When she walked by him without so much as a nod, he trailed off and furrowed his brow while watching her stalk towards her room. Well, something had happened at her friend's wedding reception and there was no way Dean was about to let her fester away in whatever negative emotion was coursing through her body. So he shut his laptop and strolled after her.

"What's up, Y/N?" asked Dean when he leaned up against the door jamb. She was angrily trying to unzip her dress, but was having no luck.

Finally she huffed in defeat and turned her back to him. "A little help?"

Well, Dean knew better than to get on her bad side when she was in a mood. So he quickly helped her unzip before walking over to her bed while she undressed and pulled on her sweats and an oversized tee.

As soon as she was dressed down, she whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at Dean. "You! Are not allowed to get married for at least a year."

"I don't think that'll be a problem,” Dean slowly replied while he tried to figure out what the hell had brought that on.

"I'm serious, Dean. If you get married in less than a year, then I will refuse to go to your wedding and I really don't want to be that shitty, selfish friend who misses her best friend's wedding, but I cannot handle any more weddings!"

Her last few words echoed through the tiled hallways, and Dean wasn't sure where her sudden wave of anger had come from. But as her best friend, he had to at least try to calm her down.

"I take it three weddings in as many weeks was too many?"

By the dirty glare she aimed at him, Dean figured he was right.

"I am so sick of it. I get it! I'm single! Weddings are romantic and whatnot. They’re a celebration about two people taking the next step in their lives. But if I hear one more person tell me that ‘I'm next’ or ask when I'm gonna get a ring on my finger, then I'm gonna explode and it's not gonna be as pretty as it was tonight because getting married is not the next step for everyone!"

Well, this oughta be good. "You exploded tonight?"

With an adorable pout, Y/N deflated and plopped down next to Dean on the bed. "I spent an hour talking to Chelsea's cousin because he was nice and I didn't know anyone else so I figured 'why not? Maybe I'll get a friend out of this.' But I swear, half of the people there came over and asked if we were together or complimented me or him on having such a hot date and people kept telling us that we're next and is it so hard to believe that someone is okay with being single? That a girl can talk to a guy and not want a diamond ring and an I do from him?"

"Breathe, Y/N." Sometimes when she got fired up about something, Y/N would start talking in run-on sentences and Dean often found that if he didn't remind her to breathe, she would forget.

"So anyway," she continued after taking that deep breath. "When we were starting to get ready to clean up, Chels's dad came over and said something like, 'You two probably sure know a lot about each other by now, huh?' And I just lost it because I'm so sick of everything and everyone and I said something stupid and snarky like, 'Yep! All that’s missing is the ring!'"

She held up her left hand, demonstrating what had happened earlier and Dean snorted. He was actually surprised that she hadn't yelled at someone, or done something similar at one of the previous receptions.

"Anyway, her cousin practically choked, but he covered it up with a laugh. And Chelsea's dad didn't get that I was mad, but whatever."

"I love that you call that an explosion." Only Y/N would call a stupid and snarky comment like that an explosion.

"I couldn't exactly use any C-4..." Y/N mumbled. "I wanted to, though. I hate normal social situations. I'd much rather kill the thing that annoys me. In normal life, I can't exactly tell someone to stay the fuck out of my business."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, you can."

"Without ruining the bride's wedding day? I don't think so." Y/N shimmied closer to Dean and burrowed under his arm. "I just hate weddings. Everyone thinks that every single person wants that. They think that getting married is the endgame for everyone. Who cares about divorce rates? As long as you've been married at least once before, then you're okay. But if you haven't been married, then obviously you're missing out. And if you don't want to get married ever, then something is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"I know that!" she exclaimed tensely. Dean tightened his arm around her shoulders until she relaxed again. "I know that it's fine to not want a romantic relationship. I know there's nothing wrong with me. But everyone makes me feel so naïve and stupid at these receptions. They make me feel like I'm not normal. They always have this stupid superior look whenever I insist that I'm doing just fine on my own. Like I'm a sad lost puppy and they want to help me find my way."

"Who cares? Let them look at you however they want. Let them think whatever they want about you. They don't know you. I know you and I think that you're awesome. You know you, and you know that you're awesome all by yourself."

Dean wanted to go find everyone who made her feel this way and punch them repeatedly. Anyone who made his best friend feel like she wasn't enough deserved to be reminded to mind their own business, the Winchester Way.

"Thanks, buddy." Whenever Y/N started using friend pet-names, Dean always knew that she was starting to calm down.

"You're welcome, pal." Then Dean grinned. "Besides, they are right about one thing about you."

Cautiously, Y/N turned to look at him. "The hell you talking about, Winchester?"

"You're not normal." Before the hurt and accusation could replace her wariness, Dean rushed to explain. "You hunt monsters, Y/N. You died last year and an angel brought you back to life. You killed three werewolves in thirty seconds using only a pair of tweezers just last month." A lopsided smile snuck onto Dean's lips. "You're definitely not normal because you're a freaking badass."

Her soft chuckle broke through her annoyance and Dean instantly felt a thousand times better just hearing that sound. Things were finally getting back to normal. Well, their normal. "I guess I am pretty badass, aren't I?"

"Damn straight."

Add Yourself To My Taglist Here!

Mobile Masterlist

[imagining-supernatural]

¿Cuántas Pelotas de Tenis?

Inglés autor: @imagining-supernatural Traducido por: @kclaire1

Drabble pedido por deanssweetheart23: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro mucho de que estés aceptando peticiones de drabbles de nuevo! ¿Qué te parece uno de estos dos “Eres increíblemente adorable” o “Deja de sonreírme, no puedo parar de confundirme al hablar cuando me miras así?” (Elige la que te inspire) ¿Con Dean y fluff?  ¡Buena suerte con todo lo que está pasando en tu vida! (Lo entiendo porque los finales me están matando a mi también.) Gracias por las cosas tan alucinantes que posteas.

Recuento de palabras: 781

English Version: How Many Tennis Balls?

“¿Qué significa esa frase?” murmuraste mirando la pantalla del ordenar con desconcierto.

Dean levantó la mirada de su propio ordenador desde el otro lado de la habitación. Estaba medio recostado en la cama mientras tú te sentabas en la mesa, tratando de concentrarte en lo que hacías. “¿Cuál es la pregunta?”

“¿Cuántas pelotas de tenis puedes meter dentro de una limosina?” Habías estado practicando para docenas de entrevistas de trabajo y esa pregunta nunca había salido en ninguna entrevista real, ni en ninguna de las que habías ensayado. “No me parece que sea una pregunta normal para una entrevista de trabajo.”

Te estabas preparando para una entrevista en video para la escuela de post grado de tus sueños. Era una universidad muy competitiva y prestigiosa así que tenías que hacerlo muy bien. Un error y tus sueños se irían por desagüe. Estabas ansiosa y al borde y este tipo de preguntas no te estaban ayudando en absoluto.

“¿Bueno?” Dean apartó su portátil y se dejó caer hasta que estuvo tumbado en la cama sobre su estomago, con la cabeza apoyada en las manos. “¿Cuántas pelotas de tenis pueden caber en una limosina?”

“¿Cómo se supone que voy a saberlo? ¡Hay tantas variables diferentes! ¿Son las pelotas de tenis nuevas o viejas? ¿Cómo de grande es la limo? ¿Cómo de apretadas deberían estar dentro de la limo? ¿Y por qué quieren meter pelotas de tenis en una limo de todas formas?“ Esa sonrisa irresistible apareció en el rostro de Dean y le fulminaste con la mirada. Sabía lo que te hacia esa sonrisa. Era la cosa más molesta del mundo. “Para.”

“No estoy haciendo nada.” Abandonó la sonrisa para poner la cara de un hombre cargado de culpa tratando de parecer inocente.

“Estás poniendo esa cara.”

“¿Qué cara?”

“Olvídalo,” Explicárselo era demasiado difícil y tú ahora necesitabas estar concentrada. “Finge que eres el entrevistador y hazme la pregunta.”

Dean se giró hasta que estuvo sentado con las piernas colgando del borde de la cama. “Señora Winchester—“

“Aún no,” le corregiste levantando la ceja.

Se encogió de hombros. “Te convenceré uno de estos días. Señora Winchester, ¿cuántas pelotas de tenis se pueden meter en una limo?”

“Es una pregunta complicada. Supongo que hay que afrontar este problema por partes, literalmente. Tendrías que saber cuantas pelotas de tenis puedes poner en el suelo de la limo y después hacer una aproximación.” Fingir que Dean era el entrevistador no estaba funcionando cuando podías ver esa sonrisa escondida tras sus labios.

“Pero tienes que tener en cuanta que los círculos—no, las esferas, tiene formas de… la formas esféricas, eso es. Tienes que tener en cuenta que la forma esférica de las pelotas las harían encajar de forma distinta porque no encajan una encima de la otra, sin embargo, creo que lo hacen de alguna manera pero lo que quiero decir—¡deja de sonreírme!” exclamaste de repente. “No puedo parar de confundirme al hablar cuando me miras así!”

“¿Cómo te miro?”

“¡Como, como, como… así! Con esa sonrisa y esa mandíbula y tus ojos y—“

“Sólo es mi cara, cielo. La misma cara desde el primer día.”

“Nop.” Sacudiendo la cabeza trataste de darle forma a una explicación coherente, lo que no era fácil porque te estaba mirando con esa sonrisa. “Me esas mirando con la misma expresión que tenías el Cuatro de Julio cuando te dije que te quería por primera vez. Es esa… esa… esa mirada de total adoración y no puedo—¡crees que eres completamente adorable!”

“Soy adorable.”

“Sí,” asentiste inmediatamente. “Eres tan increíblemente adorable. Pero necesito que bajes el nivel  un poco durante las siguientes horas, ¿Vale?”

Dean sonrió de nuevo, haciendo justo lo contrario de lo que le habías pedido. Se levantó y caminó hacia ti, levantándote hasta que estuvisteis uno frente al otro.

“No puedo bajar el nivel de mi adorabilidad más de lo que tú puedas hacerlo.” Te besó brevemente. “¿Qué tal si me voy a por comida? Te enviaré a Sam según salgo para que te ayude a preparar la entrevista. Cuando hayáis acabado, podremos ser los dos super adorables juntos sin estropear nuestros respectivos futuros.”

Levantaste los labios en una sonrisa y tiraste de él para devolverle el beso. “El futuro de la Señorita T/N/A podría acabar estropeado porque somos super adorables juntos.”

“Sólo ha evolucionado a Señora Winchester. Ha subido un nivel.”

“Llévate tu adorabilidad a ese restaurante chino que me encanta mientras averiguo cuantas pelotas de tenis caben en una limo.”

“Si, Señora.” Tras otro beso, Dean cogió su chaqueta y se dirigió a la puerta. Justo antes de salir, se dio la vuelta con esa sonrisa. “Vas a triunfar en esa entrevista.”

Añádete Tú Misma A Mi Taglist Aquí (Estará disponible hasta el 15 de Junio)

Spanish Tag: @starswirlblitz @cristinabl