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winchest09 · 2 years

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Yours to Protect - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 4223

Summary: Y/N was a highly independent woman, focusing much more on her career than she did on men and relationships. She had no time to commit to something long term, opting instead to go in search of one night stands. It was fun, exhilarating, and freeing to be in control of her own life. No ties, no constraints, no commitments. Yet, while walking home after one mediocre night in the arms of another, she finds herself walking into something that would change her life…forever.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, talks of murder, talks of violence, fear, teeniest bit of fluff if you squint very very hard, sassy Dean, Sassy Y/N.

A/N: Anddddd we’re back to normal - it feels so good!! Thank you so much for reading this, I hope you enjoy the new add - let me know what you think if you have time - it means the world to me <3

I also want to say a massive thank you to my wonderful @deanwanddamons for being my wonderful beta, and for kicking my ass where needed. Love you <3 __________________________

Get six weeks ahead on Patreon! __________________________

Yours to Protect Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Let me know your thoughts!

Y/N was infuriated, her veins burning with the anger that fuelled them as she furiously threw Dean’s dressing gown across her bedroom. Not only had he purposely rudely awoke her, something she was convinced of despite his denial, but now he was demanding that she change her name, go to work in a garage and pretend to be his girlfriend!? She dreaded to think what was coming next, especially with how she was not able to predict her bodyguards next movements.

With hands on her hips, she paced back and forth as she lowly muttered to herself, wanting to calm down a little before she went back downstairs to the man who had managed to push every single one of her buttons. Yet before all that, she had to put on the clothes she was wearing yesterday.

With disgust, she eyed the pile of cloth that was sitting upon the old wicker chair by the window. She had thrown them there not long after her shower, not caring if they got creased or not because in her tired state of mind, she forgot that she didn’t have anything else with her. It was either that, or nothing. So, with disdain she marched over and pulled at the jeans, hiking them up her legs before she roughly grabbed for the t-shirt and hoodie, both of them citing ‘police academy’ in white lettering which caused her to immediately stop in her tracks.

She couldn’t go outside in these, not when she was meant to be keeping a low profile. This was just like basic advertising that she was under witness protection…right? If she put those on, then she may as well wear a massive neon sign that said “I’m the one in hiding”. But what else had she got? Y/N hated to admit it, but she was going to have to turn to her bodyguard for advice. Great.

With a heavy sign, and with said items held tightly in her hands, she marched over towards her door and pulled it open before she stuck her head out to yell for the man who had to help with this situation, “Dean!”

The journalist waited a few seconds, craning her head and angling her ear to aid her hearing to see if he had heard her but when she was met with nothing but silence, she let out a frustrated huff and raised her voice, adding an urgency to her tone. “DEAN!”

“What?!” He shouted back, heavy steps sounding on the stairs before he appeared at the end of the corridor, looking more than a little irritated at her disturbance. Still, within a few strides he was at her door, the wood only pulled back enough for her to pop her head through, not wanting to show him her bra covered breasts.

“I can’t get dressed,” she explained, watching how his frown quickly deepened with annoyance.

“Why the hell not?” He barked, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he stared her down. She knew he was doing this as a move to try and intimidate her, but it wasn’t working. If anything it only caused her to roll her eyes before she quickly threw the balled up hoodie and t-shirt in her fists at him, resulting in him stumbling to try and catch them.

“Do you not think this will ring alarm bells for people? You want to go to all lengths to protect me, so surely walking around town in police academy gear might raise some questions?”

“Well I can’t leave you here alone,” he argued, dropping the items he had in his hand to the floor carelessly, “That is completely out of the question.”

“So is me leaving the house with my breasts on show for everyone.”

Dean held her gaze for a good few seconds before he dropped his head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with a finger and thumb. She knew he was going over options in his head, but she never anticipated him turning around and opening the door to the bedroom across from her. From her spot, she watched how he rummaged in a drawer that was just in view, before he pulled out an item and made his way back to her.

“Here,” he grunted, throwing a cotton t-shirt at her through the small gap her head was peeing through. She wasn’t as quick as him though at catching, so it fell to the floor, her eyes now trained on the light grey fabric that rested close to her feet.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s one of my old shirts I left behind last time I visited, it’ll be fine for now,” he grunted as she bent down to pick it up, the cotton light between her fingers as she pulled it close to her chest. “Don’t get attached to it, we’ll get you some more stuff while we’re out.”

“Thanks,” she breathed, actually feeling grateful that he had thought of her in that respect. It didn’t negate his earlier actions though - those she was most definitely still pissed about.

Shutting the door not long after she had watched Dean walk away, she found the opening of the t-shirt and threaded her arms through the sleeves before pulling it over her head. When she looked in the mirror, she noticed that it had a faded Led Zeppelin logo on the front and it caused her to smile slightly. It was clear that this piece of clothing was old, and had been worn many times before now; it was also a tad on the large side, stopping at her mid thigh. Nevertheless, she made it work by tucking the front into her jeans just to attempt to make it a little more stylish. It would work for now, and ensuring that she looked the best that she could, she slipped her sore feet back into the heels she was wearing when she fled.

Feeling satisfied at her reflection and her appearance, she rubbed her palms against the thighs of her jeans before she exited her room and began the descent down the stairs towards her bodyguard. She might not be too keen on spending time with him, but she was more than ready to buy some clean clothes and more comfortable footwear. The sooner the better.

The journalist hadn’t anticipated him waiting for her though, and as soon as the kitchen came into view, their eyes connected. He was waiting against the long wooden table, his arms crossed across his chest as his eyebrows raised slightly at her appearance. Soon though, that cocky smirk she had seen so many times already adorned his lips.

“Hey look at that, first hour being my fake girlfriend and you’re already stealing my stuff,” Dean remarked, pushing off from his position as he checked his pockets for what she assumed were the keys to this place.

“Oh, shut up,” she whined exasperatedly. She was already so fed up with the situation, with him calling the shots and the idea of having to pretend he meant something to her. “So what’s the plan for today then, oh Master?”

Her sarcasm was paired with a mocking bow and a roll of her eyes, yet her actions didn’t seem to bother her bodyguard one bit. Instead, he just let out a low chuckle and flashed her a wink, “I prefer Sir.”

Y/N didn’t expect to choke on her own saliva but yet here she was, covering her mouth with her hand as she coughed and her eyes watered. She didn’t dare to look over at Dean, didn’t want to witness the smug expression that was probably painting his face right now as she tried to digest his words. Thankfully, though, he just continued the conversation without further comment on the matter.

“We’re stocking up on groceries, getting you some new clothes but first we’ll be stopping by the garage so Bobby can meet you before tomorrow.”

“Right,” she croaked, moving towards the sink so she could grab a glass of water.

“Oh, and then we need to sort out your hair like Sam suggested so keep that hat on will you?” Before she could even turn on the faucet, he threw the beanie she had been wearing at her before he turned to open the front door, not even giving her a second glance as he walked out and began to quickly check the area to ensure it was safe.

She had caught it easily, but stood a little dumbfounded as the words sank in. “You’re joking, right!?” Y/N called after him before she waited for a response, but none came. Instead, she marched towards the entrance of the house and saw him waiting for her on the sidewalk. “Dean, I’m not changing my hair color.”

It appeared like her words fell on deaf ears as he didn’t even give a simple response, instead he waited for her to shut the door behind her before gesturing to the hill in front of him with his head.

“Come on,” he encouraged, pointing ahead of him as he began to take a step forward in that direction. “The garage is only up here.”

She hurried to join him on his path, the warm sun unrelenting as it beat down upon them and she could only let out a low growl in annoyance. Not only is she in full jeans, heels and Dean’s t-shirt, but she was also being forced to wear a stuffy black hat which would only make her sweat even more so than usual. What a great first impression that’s going to make!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” Y/N huffed, rushing to catch up to him so she could at least stay by his side instead of trailing behind like a shadow. Although it was impeccably hard to keep up with his strides when her feet were sore and aching, whilst being cocooned in uncomfortable footwear.

“I have no choice but to listen to you, Princess,” Dean sighed, surveying his surroundings before he looked down at her and forced a smile. “Now, time to put your game face on. In this town, people peek through their curtains when you walk past, and everyone knows everyone.”

With that statement, she noticed how he offered her his hand, his fingers slightly wiggling in invitation as he looked at her expectantly. He wanted her to hold his hand, to start off the pretense that they were lovers already and they had literally just left the house.

“Seriously?” She asked, her eyebrows meeting her hairline as she stopped walking, causing Dean to come to a halt too.

“One hundred percent,” he confirmed, his arm still outstretched as an invitation towards her. When she didn’t accept it straight away, he was quick to give her a reminder of their conversation only an hour before. “Remember what we talked about.”

For fuck’s sake, Y/N thought as she eyed his palm before her vision travelled to that of his smug grin. She couldn’t believe she had been put in this position, that this was her only way of surviving. How on earth was she meant to convincingly act as though she was in love with this man when he irritated her so deeply? When a single glance from him caused all the fires of fury deep inside of her to roar as though they’ve been doused with gasoline?

But what was she to do? There was no other choice.

“Ugh,” she groaned, curling her nose a little before she entwined her fingers into his.

Almost immediately, he tightened his hold, clamping down on her to ensure that she wasn’t going to go anywhere without his say so. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that he was worried about her running to get out of this situation, but who was she kidding? She wouldn’t be able to get anywhere far in the heels that she was wearing.

“You could look more happy,” Dean stated, breaking her from her wandering thoughts as they continued their ascent of the hill. “Your incredible boyfriend of six months has whisked you away to the beach to get away from all your crazy for an undetermined amount of time.”

“My crazy?” She spluttered, not believing the words that were falling from his mouth so easily. Of course, it wasn’t entirely a lie - her life had gone a bit cuckoo in the last twenty-four hours but he didn’t have to make it out like it was a standard, everyday occurrence.

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, shrugging his shoulders before he waved sweetly at a passer-by, an elderly woman walking her toy poodle on the opposite side of the street, her focus solely on them. “It’s been a bit shit for you lately. Your mom is on your back constantly about everything and anything, plus you lost your job. So, with my encouragement, I told you to write that book you always wanted and whisked you out here for inspiration.”

“Wow. What a lovely fake boyfriend,” Y/N muttered under her breath, hoping he wouldn’t catch it but she was out of luck for that one.

“The best,” came Dean’s quick witted response, sending her a side wink as she chanced a glance at him.

If there was one thing her journalistic instincts were telling her when it came to her bodyguard, it was that he most definitely had an intriguing and interesting story. There was much more than what met the naked eye, and she was curious as to what may lie beneath his stony yet cocky exterior. Every now and then, she’s awarded a little peak at the core of him, like rays of sun trying to penetrate a dark cave through the rocks that block the entrance. But she wanted to know more, needed to know what he was about because right now, she was getting a whiplash from his multiple personalities. From standoffish and rude, to thoughtful and kind, to this flirty yet cocky side of him. There was one constant that remained through them all though, and that was his arrogant need to be right the majority of the time.

“You got your name?”

“Hm?” His voice broke her from her thoughts, and it took her a few seconds to register the words he had muttered while she was lost inside her own head. Yet when they did sink in, her face morphed into one of a grimace. “Do I really have to change it?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Dean breathed, slowing his pace slightly as he could tell that she was starting to struggle on her feet. “If they find out who you are, they’ll hunt down and check out every Y/N until they find the right one.”

“But what did you tell Bobby?” She questioned, her brows furrowed as she awaited his answer. “Surely he knows right?”

“Actually no,” her bodyguard clarified, looking ahead at their path as they continued to walk. “He told me he was in need of someone to man the phones, and I offered both our services. I told you, he trusts me. Hence why you are meeting him today.”

“But…what if I don’t remember it? Or I don’t answer to it? Don’t you think that would be a little weird?” Y/N had a point, and she knew it. It was one that made Dean look at her in question, his green eyes reading hers as he mulled over her query in his head.

“Alright, then what about a nickname? Something you’re used to someone calling you that is not general knowledge?”

“I guess,” she trailed off, and she didn’t even have to think about what that could be, knowing that she had one that she was called all the time back in her hometown, “That would be...CJ,”

“CJ?” Dean asked, his voice raising a little at the end to indicate that he was clearly thrown off by the name that left her. “What does that stand for?”

“Does it really matter?” Y/N argued, feeling heat warm her cheeks more than the sun was already doing as she thought about the truth.

“As your fake boyfriend, yes it matters,” Dean stated clearly, one hand on his chest as though he was trying to reinforce his point. It was then that he stepped in front of her to stop her from walking, his gaze trained on her face as he not so patiently awaited her answer. God, he was so annoying.

“Ugh, fine!” She relented, throwing her free hand in the air in exasperation while her next sentence left her in a whisper, “Calamity Jane.”

“As in the movie?” he attempted to clarify, his lips already upturning as he continued to vocalise his thoughts. “As in the western musical?”

“As in Doris Day, yes,” Y/N grumpily clarified, not enjoying the way his mouth was now adorning a widening beam of joy.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he chuckled, falling back to walk beside her as they continued their journey up what felt like the never ending hill.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“The way you got yourself into this situation, the way you walked into me while I was carrying a full glass of red wine for my date…”

Oh my god, would he let this go already? Y/N shouted in her head, already tired of having this same argument over and over again.

“Okay one, this situation hasn’t got anything to do with me being clumsy by nature and secondly, you weren’t looking where you were going,” she clarified, poking him hard in his arm as that was all that was deemed appropriate considering they were out in public and she had a part to play.

“No no,” he disagreed softly, enjoying this moment far too much. “It was you that wasn’t aware of her surroundings.”

“You have your theory, I have mine,” she argued under her breath, not allowing him to win this just because she had to pretend to be his doting girlfriend.

“It’s not a theory, it’s the truth,” Dean contested, nodding his head forwards in a gesture for her to look ahead.

When she did, she noticed how a garage was coming into view, the building small but welcoming. There were a few cars out front, as well as a large workshop with its doors wide open and an old Volkswagen lifted into the air.

“In your opinion,” she hushed back, knowing that the closer they got to the place she was going to be working at, the less she was going to be able to state her piece.

“You’re infuriating,” Dean huffed, his good mood from moments earlier having dissipated now they were walking across the parking lot of the business.

“Feelings mutual,” she murmured, hoping that he wouldn’t hear it as the last thing she wanted to do right now was to have a massive slinging match in the middle of a car park and in front of people she had never met.

Before she could let her mind go any further though, an old yet seemingly happy man came out to greet them as he wiped his greasy hands onto an used rag that had been tucked into the back of his overall pocket. He looked kind, like the years had been good to him and it shocked her that out of all the places she could have laid low, Dean had chosen to put her here. The last thing she wanted was to get any civilians hurt just because she was an individual that was being hunted like she was a piece of meat.

“Dean!” The elderly mechanic bellowed, his arms outstretched wide for a hug as he approached, and her bodyguard happily obliged. She immediately attempted to let go of his hand, wanting to give them some space but Dean was not letting her go.

“Hey Bobby,” he said gently, a warmth to his tone that told her this man was important to him.

“And you must be his new girl,” the older man surmised, gently slapping Dean on his shoulder before he looked over at Y/N, extending his palm for her to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“...CJ,” she finished off his sentence, looking quickly back at her protector who gave her a small smile of approval. Looking back at Bobby, she mirrored his happy expression before sliding her free hand into his and shook it.

“Welcome to my little slice of heaven, CJ,” Bobby said with a happy tone, turning towards his garage before he gestured for the pair to follow him. “I’ll be honest, I’m glad Dean decided to whisk you both down here as I am in desperate need of extra pairs of hands.”

“Business booming?” Dean asked, taking in his surroundings as they walked into the open working space. There were tools strewn about on various workstations, a small old radio in the back pumping out classic rock and a little office that was situated in the corner, its thin windows lined with horizontal blinds that were in desperate need of dusting.

“Somethin’ like that,” the older mechanic clarified as he guided them through the workspace, stopping short of a dirty and oil splotched door. His fingers wrapped around the brass handle, before he opened it and gestured to the highly messy inside. “You’ll be in here CJ. Answering calls, booking appointments, helping make sure the ship runs a bit tighter.”

“That I can do,” she confirmed, although she tried to suppress her shocked expression at the mountain of papers and folders that seemed to be in random piles all over the place.

“And Dean, we have a complicated repair with your name on it,” Bobby chuckled, motioning with his hand for them to follow him further into the back of the garage. It was there that her eyes fell upon bright red paint, the vehicle capturing her attention almost immediately; it was beautiful. “Old mustang, stubborn bastard; it’s right up your alley.”

“Sounds fun,” Dean chuckled, knocking his knuckles against the hood as he surveyed it, taking it all in.

Maybe working here wasn’t going to be so bad. She was going to be in her own little room, where the blinds could remain shut so she wasn’t going to have to permanently look at her bodyguard's face or remain in his immediate vicinity. That would be her own slice of heaven, her own piece of solitude away from the man that was currently in charge of her every movement.

“Benny isn’t here right now, else I’d introduce you to him,” Bobby continued, scratching at the beard that adored his chin. “He’s off putting his moves on Andrea down at the beach.”

To that, Dean let out a loud laugh and Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he was genuinely happy. “He still trying?”

“He never stopped. She certainly gives him a run for his buck, that’s for sure,” the mechanic chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back onto the hood of the mustang, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, we gotta run a few errands Bobby, but do you want us here at 9am tomorrow?” Dean questioned,

“Sounds good, kid,” the mechanic confirmed, “Look forward to having you both.”

“Thanks for the opportunity,” Y/N politely said, giving him a warm smile to match her words. She might have been irritated at the start about having to work somewhere while in witness protection, but now she had seen the place, she was starting to come around to the idea that it could be a good way to keep her mind occupied. She was still worried about bringing danger to this good man’s door though.

“No need for formalities, CJ,” Bobby huffed a small laugh before looking over to the green eyed man that was still holding tightly to her hand. “Dean thinks highly of you, he wouldn’t just allow anyone to meet his nearest and dearest, let alone work with them everyday. That means I know you’re going to do just fine here.”

He thought highly of her? She thought, Well we all know that’s an act.

Still, it gave her confidence that maybe they could actually pull this whole fake couple thing off, that they wouldn’t raise any suspicions as long as they kept their story straight and their game faces on. Maybe, just maybe, she would be safe here after all. But before her thoughts could wander anymore, before she could get lost in the mystery of Dean she was building up in her mind, the man himself tugged gently on her hand and brought her attention back to him.

“Come on, I promised you some new clothes,” he said sweetly, giving her a loving smile before he let go of his hold on her and instead, slid his arm around her shoulders. It was all for show, and the look the mechanic in front of them gave the pair confirmed the exact same thing that she was thinking. What a smooth motherfucker.

“Well, enjoy and Dean, I wish you the best of luck,” Bobby laughed before he waved them off with his cloth, “Rather you than me.”

——————————————– Chapter Eight - Coming 2nd November ——————————————– A/N: Hehehehe - what do you think is gonna happen next? ;) Let me know! Thank you for reading. Tag list is open! If you want to be step into the darkness with me, then let me know HERE :)

Tags will be separate <3

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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year

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DATING DEAN WINCHESTER:

- he may not seem like it, but he is the biggest fan of cuddling,

- dean loves doing research with you, mostly because it always comes with lots of kisses,

- he is always touching you, he adores little, gentle and innocent touches,

- he also loves playing with your hair,

- and let's be honest he loves when you are playing with his hair; his head on your lap, just relaxing and you touching his hair, that's heaven for him,

- long car rides in the middle of the night!! talking about anything and everything, eating burgers at midnight, enjoying your time together,

- also making out in the impala ALL THE TIME; you sitting on top of dean, his hands on your ass, and of course it can get steamy,

- he loves cooking with you, when you two are alone in the bunker you always do that with a music, so you can sing and dance in the kitchen,

- dean is melting when you are on top of him during sex, he's a sub, but that doesn't mean he can't be more dominant,

- he just needs to be close to you, touching your hands, putting them above your head when he is the one making you feel good,

- this man loves taking photos of you: when you are doing chores around the bunker, when you are doing research, when you are reading, sleeping, when you are doing anything really,

- he also has a polaroid of you in his wallet,

- taking photos with you naked in bed after sex? yes.

- i was talking about cooking, but can you imagine baking with him?? "babe, can we make a pie?", "dean, again??", "i love pies and i love baking with you 😇😇" he's just a big, adorable baby sometimes,

- dean is an overprotective boyfriend even though you can take care of yourself,

- you are the one always winning rock-paper-scissors with him,

- he loves when you are wearing his clothes, especially when you are sleeping in his shirts,

- lazy mornings with him = breakfast in bed and big cups of coffee;

supernatural masterlist ++ tagging my sun @fleurfairie ☀️

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alexsoenomel · 1 month

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Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered.

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday.

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays."

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?"

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol."

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him.

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!"

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked.

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer.

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother.

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!”

“Shut your mouth!”

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him.

“Ouch!” It did.

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern.

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.”

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said.

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him.

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’.

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed.

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended.

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!” ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver.

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added.

“You should get dressed before you get sick.”

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him.

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast.

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you.

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!”

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you.

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?”

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep.

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!"

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit.

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!"

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!"

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl.

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange.

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human.

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee.

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad.

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you.

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?”

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.”

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed.

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked.

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed.

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face.

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?”

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny.

“Morning!”

“Morning Sam!” You spoke.

“Sleep well?”

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened.

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother.

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it.

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie.

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth.

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious.

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked.

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in.

A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother.

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head.

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!”

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS!

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready.

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools.

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled.

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?"

"Showering."

"Again?"

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window.

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that.

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?”

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.”

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine.

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!”

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.”

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.”

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly.

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer.

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?”

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration.

“(Y/N)?”

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck.

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.”

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible.

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both.

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket.

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion.

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.”

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling.

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jackles010378 · 4 months

Text

Flannel of Desire

(Dean Winchester X you)

(mentions of intimacy nothing too graphic)

Dean catches you wearing his flannel and likes what he sees 😏

Dean walked into the kitchen of the bunker, his eyes scanning the room for a snack. As he turned the corner, his gaze fell upon you, wearing one of his favorite flannel shirts, sleeves rolled up as you diligently cleaned the countertops. Something inside him stirred, a feeling of attraction that he couldn't ignore.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you intently, his mind racing with thoughts and desires. The way the shirt hugged your curves, accentuating your every movement, sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't deny the rush of arousal that surged through him, and he knew he had to make a move.

Slowly and deliberately, Dean approached you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Hey there, I see you've found my shirt," he said, his voice low and husky. You looked up, surprise flickering in your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied, a faint blush tinting your cheeks. "I hope you don't mind. It was just lying around, and I couldn't resist."

Dean took a step closer, his body now mere inches away from yours. He reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the fabric of the flannel against your arm, sending tingles of electricity through your skin. "Trust me, I don't mind at all," he whispered, his voice heavy with desire.

The chemistry between you intensified, the air in the room thick with anticipation. Dean's hand moved from your arm to your waist, pulling you closer to him. His hypnotic green eyes locked with yours, a mixture of vulnerability and longing shining through.

Without another word, Dean's lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within both of you. Time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other, the taste and warmth of each other's mouths becoming intoxicating.

Desire surged through your bodies as you stumbled towards the bedroom, leaving the kitchen forgotten and the cleaning abandoned. The intensity between you was undeniable, an electric current drawing you closer with every touch, every caress.

Inside the bedroom, clothes were shed like a trail of breadcrumbs, each discarded garment fueling the excitement. The plaid shirt, once innocent, was now a symbol of provocative desire. The soft fabric slipped off your body, revealing your vulnerability and awakening a raw hunger in Dean.

The room became a canvas of discovery, as your bodies moulded into one, exploring one another with unbridled passion. Skin met skin, creating a symphony of sighs and moans that echoed through the walls. Pleasure surged through every nerve ending, the connection between you reaching new heights with each passing moment.

In that moment of pure intimacy, there was no denying the magnetic pull that had brought you together. Dean, with his rugged charm and smoldering passion, had become an insatiable force in your life. It was a night of unforgettable pleasure, a culmination of desire that left you both breathless, sated, and yearning for more.

The following morning, Dean woke up, stretching his arms reaching out for you, only to realise you had gone. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of joggers and a hoodie and went in search of you. As he made his way down the halls, he could hear you humming. Yet again he found you in the kitchen preparing breakfast for you both, wearing nothing but his flannel. Leaning against the doorframe again he looked you up and down "you know y/n, you keep wearing my shirts, we're never gonna make it out of my room". You placed the wooden spoon on the counter top and turned around slowly to look at Dean "is that a promise Winchester" you replied with a smirk. It took a second for Dean to walk over to you, tugging you close to him and pressing his lips to yours in a fiery kiss. Pulling away leaving you breathless "oh it most certainly is, I will gladly give you all my shirts to wear" he said with a huge smile, kissing you once more.

In that moment, you knew that his flannel had been the catalyst, bringing you both together in a whirlwind of ecstasy. A reminder that sometimes, unexpected encounters can ignite a fire that burns brighter than anything either of you could have imagined.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #soldier boy #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #dean winchester x y/n #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic

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waynes-multiverse · 14 days

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

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, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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molt3ngold · 2 days

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Firefighter!Dean because he deserved that happy ending 🧡

#9 1 1 has altered my brain chemistry #Dean Winchester x Reader #AU Dean Winchester #firefighter!dean #supernatural #jensen ackles #man i love dilfs #dean winchester #spn #firefighter #Dean Winchester moodboard #Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x y/n

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winchester-girl67 · 6 months

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Wild Hearts (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N tags along to a bonfire on the beach with her brother and his friends. She tries to fit in with them, but winds up finding more of a connection to the guy crashing the party.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Age gap @spnfluffbingo Meet cute @spnaubingo “Are you stupid or stupid?”

Word Count: 3,374

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), underage drinking, mostly implied physical abuse, past injury (bruising/scars), language, slow burn, a little angst, arguing, maybe a little gaslighting, mutual pining, a kiss to the forehead, fluff

A/N: Also written for @spnfluffbingo and @spnaubingo.

_____

A/N #2: Masterlist summary and warnings have been updated. Please review before reading.

_____

Your brother grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you back towards the party going on down the beach. "Stop being such a bitc-"

"Ow! Quit it, jerk." You tried to shake your arm from his grasp but his fingers dug in, "You're hurting me."

"Don't be such a baby," he growled, stopping far enough away from the bonfire so the crowd of his friends wouldn't overhear. There was a chill in the air and his friends were gathered closer around the flames now. "I told you, if you wanted to tag along you can't just wander off by yourself. Mom would have my ass if something happened to you on my watch."

"Screw you, I'm not a baby. Let. Go."

He finally did.

"They're all ignoring me. I wanna go home." You said, pointing to the mean girls a ways away.

"Well, I'm not taking you. I'm not ready to leave yet." He said, crossing his arms over his chest with a glare.

You knew it was a mistake taking a ride from him in the first place, but you didn't have your own car. And you failed your driver's test over the last weekend. Fun way to spend your sixteenth birthday, with your brother mocking you the whole way home.

"Then I'll walk or call mom to come get me."

"No, you won't. Unless you want her to know that I was right and you are a baby." He stared you down, "Just have a drink and relax for a bit, maybe it'll loosen you up and people will want to talk to you." He glanced back at the busty blonde he'd been eyeing all night; the girl you knew he came here for. He'd only been following her around like a lost puppy all summer. She waved and gave him a little wink. "Stop being so selfish, Y/N, and maybe we'll get along for once."

"I'm selfish?!" You scoffed, you'd only sat around watching the sunset and shuffling your feet in the sand for the past couple hours while he chatted up said blonde. His friends weren't the only ones excluding you. Not that you wanted to be in on that conversation, but you thought the night was going to go a little different. You thought it would be like the old days when things between you weren't so tense all the time. "Just leave me alone and go drool already."

"And you wonder why I never wanna hang out with you anymore." He snapped and stalked away, throwing his arm over the blonde's shoulders when he reached her. Her eyes gleamed in the firelight and you heard her giggle echo along the shoreline when he tickled her sides.

Everyone liked your brother and you tried to be just like him when you were younger. You were only a year apart but it made a world of difference. You didn't even mind wearing his hand-me-downs until you got to high school and got made fun of for it. But you made your peace with it now, you'd always be more of a tomboy and you couldn't be anyone but yourself. Graphic tees, jeans and sneakers were the epitome of comfort and that's what you wore now while the mean girls had skimpy dresses and tank tops that did nothing against the cold breeze that wafted in from over the open water.

But a drink might help.

The beer cooler was up the beach from the horny seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, but you didn't have to pass them to fish one out from melted ice. You cracked it open and took a sip, souring your face instantly and spitting it out onto the sand.

You heard someone chuckle and whipped around. A tall guy with shadows cast on his face stood a few feet away, watching you. You glanced down to the bottle in your hand, then back at him. He followed your eyes, his expression turning stoic before you could read him.

"What?" You asked.

"It's kind of an acquired taste." He nodded towards the bottle in your hand and you took another sip, choking it down to prove him wrong. He wasn't wrong. Beer was gross. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He cocked his head towards your brother who was now chasing the blonde down towards the shoreline. You didn't think they'd go in, since it was nearly winter and the water was freezing this time of year. But he teased her and grabbed her like he was going to drag her out into the icy depths.

"Oh. Yeah, he's just an asshole is all and I needed a drink." You explained, raising the beer to your lips for a third sip.

You wanted him to leave already so you could dump the rest out in the bushes.

"Same," he nodded and chugged the rest of his own beer. "He shouldn't treat you like that, though."

You didn't think he overheard but he'd certainly seen the two of you, "He's my brother, that's what brothers do."

You toyed with the label on your beer, peeling it back from the glass.

"No, it's not."

He stepped forward, setting his empty bottle in the bin next to the cooler. The light of the bonfire catching his features enough for you to finally see him. The first thing you noticed was that he was not a friend of your brother's. He was older, too, though you couldn't tell by how much.

He was a party crasher. Probably here for the free beer.

"Whatever. It's not like he hits me, he just gets mad and pushes me around a little." You said, stepping back a foot when the guy took another step towards you.

"He shouldn't. That's called abuse."

"Not when I do the same to him. Then it's called sibling rivalry."

"I know abuse when I see it." His voice lowered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His words held a story he wasn't telling and you didn't ask.

You eyed him again. Between the full moon and the light of the fire you noted a few details that jumped out at you. He wasn't bad looking, actually kind of cute. His eyes held a world's worth of emotion as if he vaulted it up inside himself and swallowed the key. Days old bruising covered the left side of his face, particularly around his jaw, cheekbone, and eye. And he intermittently sucked on the split in his bottom lip that had reopened, probably from when he first smiled at you.

"Well, your story isn't mine." You said, having had enough of this stranger who thinks he knows your life at a glance. He sighed and looked away, steeling his jaw and rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes cast down to his stomach when his shirt lifted and your heart sank at the sight. A thick scar stretched up his torso from his hip and disappeared beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, peeking back out around his collarbone where the neck hole had been worn loose. Someone had hurt him, badly; you thought that must've been why he was so conscious towards abuse. "Sorry, I didn't know-"

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" He asked, meeting your eyes and taking another step forward.

You didn't back away this time, though he was still a good five feet away at least.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, taking off with some judgy guy I just met and wandering down a dark secluded beach alone with him. Real smart. Maybe wait until I've had a couple drinks first, then try again." You rolled your eyes making him laugh silently.

"I don't hurt women. Ever." He said as if it was a law of his own.

"What about men?"

"Depends," he shrugged.

"On?"

"I've never started a fight in my life." He said, answering a question you didn't ask rather than the one you did.

"Somehow I don't believe you." You squinted up at him, trying to read him.

"Then why haven't you walked away yet?" He looked at the party continuing around the bonfire and then back at you. "You don't wanna be here any more than I do, so let me show you something."

"I swear if that something is your-"

He raised his hands from his pockets and smiled, "I promise it's not. You'll like this."

"You get five minutes and I'm counting. Also, I'm a black belt so don't even think about trying anything." You lied, although he didn't strike you as the violent type despite the evidence on his face and stomach.

You scanned the beach for your brother, spotting him still engrossed with the blonde, so you knew he wouldn't notice any time soon if you'd left without causing a scene. You dumped your nearly full beer out onto the sand and set it in the bin with the other empty bottles. Ignoring the knowing smirk from the party crasher as you did so.

"Beer is kind of gross."

"Yeah, it is." He chuckled, "but it's cheap and gets the job done."

"I don't see the appeal," you said, following in stride with him down the beach. The sand beneath your sneakers making it hard to keep up with his long legs. "Can you walk slower?"

"Sorry," he slowed his pace and you easily caught up. "Drink a bit more than a couple of sips next time and you will."

"I'd rather waste the calories on chocolate, thank you."

He laughed silently again and sucked the split in his lip, "What's your name?"

"Uh, Y/N, you?"

"Dean." He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "So, how come I haven't seen you around here before, Y/N?"

"We just moved here," you said, not wanting to explain how you didn't exactly get out much and explore the town over the summer.

"Then you haven't been to the pier?" He asked, cocking his head towards the end of the beach where you were headed.

It wasn't so much a pier as it was a small row of shops and a parking lot. Some storefronts were still lit up against the darkened sky and a lighthouse sat on the rocks near the shore. The light at the top swung around and around over the jagged rocks reaching into the water.

"Seriously? You wanted to show me a lighthouse? That's not exactly special. Lighthouses are a dime a dozen around here, if you haven't noticed." You said a little disappointed and glancing back at the party.

The bonfire merely a speck amongst the stars along the beach now. If you accounted for the walk back it would definitely stretch over the five minutes you'd promised him and you stopped walking.

Dean noticed when you fell behind and turned to you. He laughed a little and smiled, "That's not where we're going."

He reached out to you and grabbed your hand, tugging you gently until you laughed and skipped a step. He was troubled, that was for sure, but you didn't have a reason not to trust him. Not that trust should be given easily without question; but still, you welcomed the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours as he led you across the parking lot and up to one of the shops.

"Ice cream," you stared up at the sign before Dean pulled you into the store.

"Mhm," he licked his lips, guiding you up to the display of tubs sitting in the freezer and separating you from the older blonde woman behind the counter.

She nodded to Dean like she knew him and he smiled back, "Hey, Donna." She didn't react at all to the bruises on his face and your mind started to wander.

"I was starting to think I wasn't gonna see ya before closing," she said, retying her pink apron as if she was getting ready to close up for the night.

"You know me better than that," he feigned hurt and wrapped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you into his side.

You scanned over the flavours, some so bright you wondered if it was possible to taste a colour. "Isn't it kinda cold for ice cream?"

"Never," Dean shook his head like you'd said something foolish. "These shops are seasonal and it's the last night they're open until they close for the winter. You'll have to wait at least four months before you get this again. And trust me, once you try it, winter will feel like an eternity for your tastebuds."

You smiled, you couldn't argue with that logic, "What flavour should I get?" You asked, assuming he'd probably have tried them all by the looks of it.

"My favourite is the mocha with all the little chocolate pieces. It's basic, I know, but classic." He pointed to a tub filled with dark brown speckled ice cream.

"Two mochas, please." You said.

"Sure thing," Donna said and scooped you out a couple of cups.

Dean gave your shoulder a squeeze before giving you some space to enjoy your ice cream.

He kept eyeing you as you took your first bite, then your second, "And?"

"Okay, you're right. It's fudging amazing! Can we get more?" You asked, glancing back at the shop from where you sat outside on a bench under a streetlamp.

"You still have a whole cup.” He barked out a laugh and you shovelled a few spoonfuls into your mouth.

A chilled throb wracked through your brain and you paused mid-bite to squeeze your eyes shut and fan at your frozen mouth. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth and just as the feeling started to ebb away you felt hot, sticky lips lay flush against your forehead. Dean’s hand held the back of your head and you blinked open your eyes, feeling warm and fuzzy.

"Better? My mom used to do that for me when I was a kid. Always seemed to help." He said and tilted his head to the side.

You weren't sure if it was what he did or the shock of the unexpectedness of it, but it dulled the pain. He hadn't backed up an inch and you could see the gold flecks in his green eyes under the streetlamp. Framed by the yellow edges and purple patches of the bruising next to his left eye. His hair was sandy brown and short but still fell over his forehead and brushed the tips of his ears. And freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose on pale skin. He was pretty cute and different from most of the boys you usually met.

You nodded and blushed, sneaking another spoonful of mocha ice cream between your lips. He laughed silently and leaned back, picking back up his own cup of ice cream from the bench next to him and digging in.

"You're strange and kinda wonderful." You said around a bite full, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth when the brain-freeze threatened to come back.

"That's oddly the nicest thing someone's said to me in a very long time." He took a bite and licked his spoon clean.

"That makes me sad."

"Makes me happy," he mumbled and smiled.

"Like I said, strange."

"Because you're so cool and composed, right?" He's teased, pointing with his spoon.

"I'm a delight and you know it. That's why you just had to get me away from all those other guys down on the beach. Before they had the chance to notice too, of course." You joked, brushing your hair back when the breeze carried it away.

"You caught me, I'm a sucker for a girl who tries to bite my head off with one wrong look."

"You make me sound like a praying mantis."

"In that case, I guess I'm safe as long as we don't have sex." You both frowned. "Sorry, that was awkward, I swear it sounded funnier in my head. Because you know they only eat their mate after-uh-mating..." He stuck his spoon in his ice cream and stirred until it was smooth like soup, "What?"

"You're blushing," you said, "it's cute." You liked being able to do that to him. "But you should know I'm sixteen."

"Wait. What?" He looked like you'd just punched him in the gut. "But you were drinking."

"When did you have your first beer?"

He thought to himself for a moment, clearly he had been younger than you; then he abandoned his ice cream on the bench beside him. “What about your friends?”

"Some are eighteen. But most are seventeen, same as my brother, they're his friends." You explained. "Don't ask me how they got the beer." You attempted to lighten the mood but he just stared down at his hands, rubbing at the cuts in his knuckles. "How old are you?"

“Too old for you,” he shook his head and picked at one of the scabs. “Twenty-one in January.”

So essentially there was a five year age gap between you. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if only you were older; but for now it didn’t mean you couldn’t be friends. Your gut twisted at the thought of never seeing him again and you could use a friend; and it looked like he could, too.

Your cell rang and you fished it from your back pocket. Your brother's name sprawled over the screen.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, then answered, "What do you want?"

"Are you stupid or stupid? Where the fuck did you go?!" He shouted and you were sure Dean could hear, so you turned down the volume on your phone.

"For a walk."

"We're leaving."

That meant the blonde was tagging along, either hitching a ride home with you or your brother was just going to drop you off at home before taking her to park somewhere and... -You didn't want to think about it. Your brother, like that. Gross.

"Maybe I don't wanna leave yet. I made a friend." Dean mirrored your smile.

"Find your own way home then..." he grumbled a few choice words and hung up. Asshole.

"Any chance you have a car?" You asked, silencing your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. "I need a ride."

"Uh- no. But I know where we can get one." Dean said as he checked the time on his wrist. You fingered your ice cream and booped him on the nose. "What was that for?" He laughed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

You shrugged, "Just trying to lighten the mood. You look so sad," you raised his chin with your fingers, "Chin up, Dean."

"Did you mean that?" He asked.

You lowered your hand to rest on the bench between you, "Mean what?"

"That we're friends," he asked, chewing on the split in his lip. At this rate you didn't think it would ever heal over. "I mean, that we can be friends."

"Uh-huh, unless you don't wanna be my friend." You nodded and searched his eyes, some kind of hurt flashing through them.

"I think that's all we can be. At least, until you have a couple more birthdays."

Your typical luck, the one guy you could see yourself interested in and he's too old. It was only nearly five years, sure, but you were only sixteen and he'd probably had a lot more experience that you couldn't compare to. But he was cute.

Window shopping couldn't hurt right, until you had the means to buy.

"I can wait," you teased and laughed. "But you look like you could use a friend. And I got your back, since I kind of owe you one for introducing me to this ice cream."

"You don't owe me anything, Y/N."

You shivered when the ice cream was gone and Dean stripped out of his hoodie, draping it over your shoulders as you walked along the side of the road towards his house. He apparently didn't live far away and if his father was home, he could 'borrow' his car to give you a ride. He actually used air quotes when he said borrow though, so you were a little skeptical.

_________________________

Part 2

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

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @globetrotter28

#spnfluffbingo2022 #spnaubingo #au!dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean x #au!dean winchester #supernatural reader insert

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heartthrobin · 11 months

Text

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased.

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

#Sam Winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam Winchester x female reader #sam Winchester fanfiction #sam Winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester #sam Winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #soulmate au

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deanoheartspie · 11 months

Text

Sunshine 2

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: None

A/N: Let me know what you think and what your theories are!

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•°Y/N POV°•

“Well hello darlin.” The green eyes look down at me, with a smirk.

You got to be kidding. I'm just waiting for John Quiñones, (From what would you do) to pop up from a bush and throw a microphone in my face. Nope. This was very real. Well fuck.

“What are you doing here? Following me like a creep I see.” I mutter under my breath as I cross my arms.

Clayton and Laura are trying to bite back their laughs, which earned an eyebrow raise from me, What were these two up two and what did they know that I didn't?

“Y/n... Honey this is our ranch hand and the town's sheriff. Have you both met before?” Aunt Laura finally speaks, as she looks between you and the tall green-eyed man.

My mouth parts, you've got to be shitting me. Can this day get any worse?

“I can say we have, did she tell ya how she grazed Lilah? I can lock her up if you want she's a little suspicious, especially with the littering of her ticket that was left on the street.” The man spoke while looking me up and down, with an amused grin.

Clayton crosses his arms as Laura covers her mouth she burst into a fit of giggles. “Hmm nah, I'll just have her clean the poor thing up for bathtime”

I mentally cringe, I've never been good with animals especially since they carry so much responsibility that I knew if I had gotten a pet I wouldn't be able to take care of it to the best of my ability and that wouldn't be fair to it.

“Dean, will you take her out back to the stables so I can go feed her please” Laura softly asked, he nodded as he had the horse follow him back to the stables.

Dean. Finally a name to the face. It suited him.

My uncle helps bring my bags up to the room they had ready, honestly I remembered it because it was the room I used to stay in, and let me tell you, it hadn't changed one bit.

The floors were creaky, bed frame older than me. Dust everywhere, maybe some spring cleaning would be nice. It was clear the room hadn't been used since I had left, and that left me a little sad that no one else visited them.

“Thanks...” I give a smile, Clayton pats my shoulder with a little nod before heading back downstairs.

Unlocking my phone I scroll through some of my messages, most from my mother...

Never once had it been about what I wanted... I practically was raised by nannies which was better than nothing because some kids weren't always lucky to experience that. I just wanted my parents... For them to care and love me, but they never really did.

“Ah, looks like I have a new neighbor” Dean mumbles as he steps inside the room, with his hands in his pockets.

“What do you mean?” I sit up turning my phone off, not wanting to see my mothers reply.

“I'm in the room next to ya, Clay and Laura wanted me to make you a list of 'chores' you'll need to do while you are here for free. So you'll be taking most of my nonheavy responsibilities because who'd want to hurt a city gal like you?”

He smirks as he leans against the doorframe while looking me up and down.

“Why are you living with them?” I ask curiously, sometimes my nosiness got the best of me...

“And that sweetheart isn't any of your business. Plus I work for them so they offered a room so I took the offer.” He muttered as he handed over the list.

He turned on his boots, walking off to what I assume is his room. Glancing at the list that contained, picking up horse shit, feeding, and grooming the animals. I scrunch my nose, he pretty much gave away all the nasty shit to me.

-----------------The next morning----------------

~BEEP~ ~BEEP~ ~BEEP~

I hear an alarm go on and on...I bury my head under the blanket. When I realize it wasn't going off anytime soon I bang my hand against the wall, to tell that green-eyed cowboy to shut the hell up.

“Wakey wakey sweetheart, the shit won't pick up itself” I hear the deep gruff voice, I peek my head out of the blanket seeing Dean holding the alarm that continued to go off until I tossed a shoe at him.

“Easy there tiger, Good morning” Dean puts his hands up as he reveals the alarm out of his hands and onto the floor peacefully and finally quiet.

I check the time... His he serious? It's 5:30 am Is this man crazy? I think so.

As Dean walks the floors creaked with every step, and it started to get on my nerves. A few seconds pass by and I realize he isn't going to go until I get up, I groan rolling out of bed, and start going through the dressers pulling out a nice white flowy dress.

“You're going to wear that?” He asked looking the dress up and down, with a slight cringe. I look at him a little confused and my head tilts to the side.

“Yeah... What's wrong with it?” I look at it again, seeing if it and any dirt or stains on it.

“Did you bring anything that you can remotely get dirty in? I wouldn't recommend a dress unless you want it all fucked up. Wear jeans and a T-shirt, oh and some boots. Not the high heel ones.” He clarifies. I stand there awkwardly seeing I just packed skirts and dresses not expecting to get down and dirty.

“Heh..” Rubbing the back of my neck, I look at him when I see he has a moment of realization.

“Are you serious Y/n, You didn't bring anything somewhat comfy?” Dean sighs as he leans back against the doorframe.

“I had been in a rush... I didn't have exactly very much time to pick and choose what I wanted” I whisper as I shift uncomfortably, hell I still had my wedding dress in the truck. That whole day was a disaster.

Dean slowly nods, probably feeling that I wouldn't want to talk about it. He rubs a hand over his face before checking his watch. “Let's get you some clothes then, you'll need them for tonight and for the rest of the time you are here”

----------

The drive to the town had been short, the stores had just started to open but plenty of people were already out and about going on with their day.

It was quiet. It felt quite refreshing, especially being in the city my whole life.

“Good mornin' sheriff” A guy on the bench started up a conversation with Dean, which resulted in me going into a store called blitz and Glamour by myself.

Right when I walk in a girl my age starts up a conversation with me and helps me find a few cute items, I quickly learned her name is Charlie and she just got out of tech school but her parents wanted her back down here for the summer. The redhead was quite talkative but at the then... I think I might've made my first friend here. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all.

“Oh- fuck sorry!” I accidentally bump into a woman, and Dean was quick to walk over to help pick up all the bags. “Lisa. How are Ben and Aurora?” He asks as stands up straight while holding the bags.

Who is this Lisa and who the heck are Ben and Aurora? It wasn't my business so I slowly backed up leaving the green eyed-man with the darker hair woman. After a few minutes he saw them bicker, well it was more of the woman than Dean he kinda just stood there and took it. As if he was used to it.

And let me tell you... He didn't look to happy when he came back over.

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Chapter 3

----Tag list----

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rowyn-writes · 7 months

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Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Five

Warnings: Self hate, mentions of abusive ex, mentions of a minor character death, fluff

Characters: Reader, Dean, Michael, Jo

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

You had been living with Dean for five weeks now, and everything felt surprisingly normal. You both woke up early in the morning for work, so you got to have breakfast together. You liked having someone to talk to before going to work.

It was five in the morning as you and Dean shuffled around the kitchen in a comfortable silence. You had made some eggs and bacon for the both of you while Dean got ready for work. Since Dean passed the coffee shop to get to work, he would drop you off, and in return, you made him coffee to get him ready for the day.

"Mornin' sweetheart." Dean grumbles as he comes out of his room, yawning. His hair was still tousled from sleep. You chuckle softly at the sight.

"Morning, Dean. Forget to brush your hair?" You snorted. Dean laughs as he smooths down his hair.

"Maybe I was trying out a new style, Y/n, ever think of that?" He sniffed, pretending to be mad.

"Aw, c'mon now, you never change up your routine, so I find that highly unlikely. And besides, you can't be mad at me forever, I made you breakfast." You set his plate down on the table, pouring a glass of orange juice for him.

"I got damn lucky to have you as a roommate." He sighed happily as he ruffles your hair before sitting down at the table, tucking into his breakfast.

"I could say the same." You smile as you eat with him. Storm was still asleep on the window seal. Despite Dean buying a cat bed for him to get into his good graces, the cat refused to actually sleep in the bed. He just sniffed at it before going back to what he was doing.

Once you and Dean were finished with breakfast, he took the plates and put them in the dishwasher, starting a load. You went and grabbed your apron for work before heading out the door with Dean, sliding into his beautiful Impala. "I hope you know that if I actually still drove, I'd totally wanna take Baby for a joyride." You joked.

Dean laughs softly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. "You're more than welcome to drive her anytime you need, sweetheart. I won't stop you."

"Oh, um, nah." You shook your head gently. "I don't really drive anymore. I um, I got into a really bad car crash about a year ago and I don't really drive anymore because of it." It was the first time you had really talked about the car crash with anyone other than Jo or Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear about that sweetheart. Was everyone alright?" He frowns, looking over at you.

"Oh, um, yeah, I just had a broken arm. . . The other driver was okay too."

Dean could tell that you wanted to drop the subject. "So, I was thinking, you don't work tomorrow, right? And you're done with exams?"

"Yeah, why?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Well," Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot of Chuck's. "I was thinking that tonight we go to my favorite bar and have some drinks, my treat. They're having karaoke tonight too, and I think it would be a lot of fun."

You mulled it over for a moment. You didn't drink much, but you thought this would be a good chance to get to know Dean a little better and let loose some. "I think that'd be a lot of fun, actually." You give him a gentle smile.

"Perfect, I get off work tonight at 5. I'll pick you up and take you home on my lunch break, I don't want you walking home alone or anything." Dean gives you a boyish grin, the one that you had come to adore.

"Thanks, Dean, you have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness." And it was true. Dean was kind to you when it felt like you hit rock bottom. Being evicted from you apartment was rough, and you never expected him to offer his home up to you. Even though you hadn't known Dean long, you trusted him, and it seems that he trusted you. You hated to think about where you'd be without him right now.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. I'm just glad I could help you out. I've been where you've been before. My life has never been put together in the slightest, and there was a time when I had no place to go. I really could have used some help, and I want to be that person for you." He said softly, looking over at you.

"Well, I know I'm not much, but I'm here, and I can be the support you need. We can help each other." You offer him a gentle smile.

"I like the sound of that, Y/n, thank you." You lean over and give him a quick hug.

"I'll see you on your lunch break, then. Let me go make your coffee really quick." You went in and unlocked the doors, making Dean a brown sugar latte and grabbed him a scone before bringing it out to him. "Have a good day at work." I reach through the window and ruffle his hair before heading back inside to tackle the day.

Jo was the next person scheduled to come in, and you hoped it was one of those rare days that she was actually on time. You had talked to her many times before about her punctuality, but it never seemed to stick with her. She was your best friend, and you didn't want to have to reprimand her, but it seemed that it was going to have to come to that. Thankfully, she was on time today, and you didn't have to say anything to her.

"Thank god my car started." She said as she walked in, clocking in on the computer. "I was scared she wasn't gonna crank. I really need a new car."

"Well, you're here, that's all that matters. Today's a Wednesday, so I'm expecting it to be a good day for us. This is usually our dead day, so I think it should be okay with just the two of us until eleven when Maddison comes in."

The day went off without a hitch, the customers were nice, it was a slow day, and everything seemed peaceful. That is, until the end of your shift. Dean was on his lunch break and he was waiting for you to clock out so he could take you home. He didn't mind hanging out in the coffee shop, as he found it rather peaceful. The front door dinged, signaling that there was a customer inside. "Hey, welcome to Chuck's! We'll be right w-" You broke off as you stared up at the man in front of you. Michael. You could feel your heart pounding out your chest as he glared down at you. You hadn't seen him in nearly two months, what made him want to come confront you now?

"We need to talk." He said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was 6'3 and he towered over you. It was something that had always intimidated you, especially when you were together.

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave." You tried to make your voice sound strong and determined, but it came out as just a small squeak. You hated the affect he had on you. For years he made you feel small, and even after the break up, he could still make you feel that way.

"Oh we have plenty to talk about, Y/n. Like how one day you just changed the locks to the apartment and had all of my stuff sitting out in the hall?"

"And you're just now wanting to talk about this, huh? You had nearly two months to reach out to me and to talk about this, but you picked now as the prime opportunity? When I'm at work?"

"Oh please," He scoffed. "You can hardly call this a job. Besides, I've been busy with other things." Dean's head perked up at the sound of arguing. He looked over at you and Michael. He could clearly tell you were in distress.

"Michael, just fucking leave. You're not welcomed here. Our relationship is over and there's absolutely nothing for us to talk about. You cheated, you were abusive, you were a shitty ass boyfriend. What else do you want me to say? I've listed a billion reasons as to why we broke up and you still can't accept that."

"Don't speak to me like that." He grabbed your wrist. "I guess I better teach you some manners." You try to pull away from his grasp. Before you could even shout for help, a fist connected with Michael's jaw.

Dean looked pissed as he grabbed Michael by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. "What kind of pathetic coward lays hands on a woman?" He growled as he punched him again. "Come near Y/n ever again, and I swear to God himself, there will not be anything stopping me from beating you within an inch of your sad life. Got it?!"

You had never seen Dean so angry before, let alone get physical with someone. "And what's it to you, huh?! Why the hell do you care for some whore so much? Oh, I get it, you're fucking her, huh?" Michael laughed, throwing his head back.

Dean said nothing in return as he punched him once more before throwing him out to door. "Don't ever come near her again." Dean snarled before going to check on you. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear to God-"

"Dean. . ." You hugged him tightly. "I'm okay, he didn't hurt me. . . Thank you for sticking up for me." You whisper, tears in your eyes. Maddison and Jo watched as Dean wrapped his arms around you protectively.

"No one's going to hurt my best girl on my watch, I promise you that." He said lowly, gently rubbing your back. "I'm guessing he's your ex boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he is. . . I thought I was finally free of him, but he keeps popping back up like an infectious disease." You were holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Dean.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get out of here." He wrapped his arm around you and led you out to his car. "Do you need me to stay with you? I can tell Bobby something came up."

You shook your head gently. "No, that's okay. . . I don't want to impose. I'll be okay until you get off work tonight. . . Honestly, I don't even what to think about what just happened. And it doesn't even surprise me that he came here. I guess I was just hoping he'd forget about me." You ramble on, looking at your hands.

"You wouldn't be imposing, sugar." He said, his voice soft and gentle. "If you need me, I'm here, okay? There's not much goin' on at the shop today, so Bobby can afford to be on his own for the rest of the day."

You felt tears brim your eyes as you kept looking at your hands, refusing to look Dean in the eye. "I-I could use some company. . . If t-that's okay." You whispered quietly. Dean tilts your head up gently with his finger so you would look at him.

"I'll stay with you as long as you need, darlin'." He then surprised you by kissing your head. He was so caring and gentle with you, which was something you weren't used to. He drove back to the house, letting you pick the music for the drive. Once you got back, he called Bobby and explained the situation before following you inside. He grabbed some blankets and popped some popcorn. "So, what movie should we watch? Comedy, rom-com, action?"

"You really don't have to do this for me, Dean. . ." You felt like a burden. You made Dean call out of work just so he could sit here and watch a movie with you. You were an awful friend and roommate.

"You're right, I don't have to, but I want to. . . You're my best friend, Y/n, I want to make sure that you're okay. You've had a stressful day, and you need to unwind a bit. Plus, work was slow, wasn't much for me to do. I'd much rather sit here with my favorite girl and cheer her up." He sits down beside you, draping his arm on the back of the couch.

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you let the tears flow. "I-I just want to be rid of him. He never let's me have any peace."

"Shh," Dean whispered softly, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm here sweetheart. . . He won't hurt you as long as I'm around, okay?" He kissed your head again, making you feel comfort. Storm jumped up on the couch, settling himself in your lap, purring softly. "See, darlin'? Even Storm's here to help you." That made the tears stream down your face harder. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Everything that you had held in from the break up came bursting out all at once, despite your attempts at pushing it down. Dean held you in his arms as you cried. "Breathe, Y/n, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" He murmured gently. You tried to breathe, but it just came out as choked sobs. Your body was shaking as you cried. Dean let you know that he was here, and that you were safe. You knew he was right. Being in his arms was the safest place for you. You knew that Dean would never hurt you, and that he would do everything in his power to protect you.

Once you had calmed down, you found your voice. "Thank you for being here." Your voice was raw and hoarse from crying. Dean didn't mention it, he just smiled softly, kissing your temple.

"Of course, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He continued to run his fingers through your hair, as he could tell that's what was keeping you grounded. "We don't have to go out tonight, we can go some other time, I'm sure that you're tired after the day you've had."

You thought it over for a moment. "Actually, I think I still want to go out tonight. . . I just need to feel normal, and show that what he did doesn't get to me." You state confidently.

Dean grins at your confidence. "That's my girl." He let you get ready for your night out with him. You picked a pair faded ripped jeans from your draw, a black blouse, and a black leather jacket. You combed through your hair, trying to find a style you liked, eventually settling on having it braided. You came out of your room with a smile. Dean let out a low whistle as he saw you.

"You clean up nicely, darlin'." He grins. He was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt that fit him nicely and a pair of faded blue jeans. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment.

"Thanks, De. Shall we get going?" You grab you wallet as Dean grabs his keys.

"Let's go." He smiles, resting a hand on the small of your back as he leads you out the door. You were very aware of his hand against your back. But you shouldn't be thinking about that. Dean was your friend and roommate. You couldn't risk anything. You slid into the Impala as Dean going into the drivers seat. You grinned as the car roared to life. The car was absolutely gorgeous, and you'd love to have an old car like this. That is, if you still drove. Past pains rear its ugly head into your thoughts, making you think of things you wish you could forget. You push it aside. Tonight was about having fun with your best friend.

You showed the bouncer your ID and you were let into the bar with Dean. It was packed since it was karaoke night. You and Dean slid up to the bar, you ordered your favorite drink and Dean got a whiskey and coke. "So, ya thinking about gettin' up there and singing?" Dean smirked as he looked to you.

"Me? Nah, I can't really sing." You shrugged.

"One, that's bullshit. I hear you singing in the shower all the time and you sound amazing. And two, no one who sings karaoke can sing. I'll do it with you if you sing." He offered you up a smile. You could never resist that boyish smile he had.

"I hate you, I hope you know that." Despite your words, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

"Say what you want sweetheart. But hey, you get to pick the song and I can't complain."

"Oh really?" You smirked. "So if I picked a Taylor Swift song, you wouldn't say anything?"

"Hey, I can get down with TSwizzle, okay?" Dean held up his hands in defense. You couldn't help the laughter that racked through your body.

"You did not just say TSwizzle-" You continued to laugh, Dean joining in.

"All I'm sayin' is that you can pick whatever song you like."

You went up to the karaoke machine, scrolling through until you found the perfect duet for you two. I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. "We're up next." You grin as you pull Dean towards the stage. Dean followed you up on stage, grabbing the mic. "Ready?" Dean nods as the song starts. Despite having never heard the song, he did it justice. You never knew Dean could sing. When you sang your parts together, Dean smiled over at you, his eyes gleaming. Once the song was over, he helped you down from the stage.

"Y/n, you were amazing! I knew you had a good voice, but damn, that was beautiful." He praised you, gently patting your shoulder.

"Me? Dean, I had no idea you could sing like that. You were fantastic!" You gently punch his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the tip of his ears turn pink. "Thank you, sweetheart, I appreciate it." He grinned.

"Aaand I think that some of the girls over there found your singing attractive." You chuckled as you looked over to a group of girls that were eyeballing Dean. "You should go talk to them!" You encouraged.

"Nah," He shook his head. "This night is about you and me, and celebrating our friendship." He gave you a smile. You couldn't help the small butterflies you felt in your stomach. Instead of going off with a girl, he wanted to spend time with you. But at the same time, you felt bad, because you felt like you were keeping him from having a fun time.

You felt like screaming at yourself, because you always did this. Every time there was something good going in your life, you found a way to get in your head and overthink things. You wished you could turn those voices in your head off. Sometimes those voices got particularly loud, especially in times like these. You tried to push them away and have a good time with Dean, but you couldn't help it.

"You okay, Y/n? You got really quiet all of a sudden." Dean said softly. Damnit, he knew you too well.

"Oh, yeah, it's um, it's just been a long day, y'know?" You cleared your throat, looking up at him.

"We can head home if you'd like?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side.

"No no, I'd hate to be a bother. You look like you're having so much fun, and I don't want to ruin that." You spoke softly.

"Sweetheart, if you're tired or you just don't feel up to being here anymore, you can tell me. I won't be upset. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or feel like you have to stay for my sake. Besides, I don't care where we are, as long as we're together, I'm happy to spend time with you."

You gave him a soft smile. "I just don't think I'm in the right headspace right now." You sighed. "It's just been a long day with a lot going on. . . I promise to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/n, we can just spend some time together and watch a movie if you'd like?"

"I'd really like that, De. . . Thank you." You whispered gently. Dean ruffled your hair and went to pay for the tab. You rode home in a comfortable silence as Dean hummed along to the radio. You were stuck in your own head again, per usual. You were leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass on your cheek.

"Are you sure everything's alright, sweetheart?" He asked, looking over to you. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I dunno, I'm just really struggling mentally today. After everything that happened this afternoon, I just feel so. . . empty?"

"I get it darlin'. What do you need? Do you need some time by yourself, or do you wanna curl up on the couch with me and watch some Dr. Sexy MD?" He questioned, his voice gentle.

"I think that spending some time with you could help. . ." You couldn't help but smile. You felt safe with Dean, and even though you were having a tough time, you knew that everything was going to be okay as long as you were with him.

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winchest09 · 2 years

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Yours to Protect - Chapter Two

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 2666

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, murder, violence, gun violence, hostage type situation, fear, scary situation, threats, taunts.

A/N: Just a side note...this series has started to evolve into something I didn’t see coming - fake dating anyone? lol. Thank you all so so much for reading, it means the absolute world. Don’t worry - LO is dropping tomorrow too!

I also want to say a massive thank you to my wonderful @deanwanddamons for being my wonderful beta, and for kicking my ass where needed. Love you <3 __________________________

Get four weeks ahead on Patreon! __________________________

Yours to Protect Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Let me know your thoughts!

Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried her hardest to not make a sound, tiptoeing ever closer to where the tortured noise was coming from. They were bleeding from an alleyway, the high walls acting like amplifiers for every small sniffle and plea this poor person was making. Y/N knew she had to be careful, her every instinct screaming at her to run in the other direction but her journalistic curiosity prevented her from doing so. Maybe she could help whoever this was.

Carefully peering down the darkened side-street, she had to control the noises she wanted to make where her eyes landed upon the sight in front of her. There, knelt on the uneven cobblestone road, was a young man who must have been no older than nineteen. His head was pouring with blood, his cheeks bruised and swollen as his hands were currently outstretched in front of him, shielding himself from more harm. Circling him were two men, both dressed in long black trench coats as they sneered down at their victim.

“You’ve let us down, kid,” one of them spoke loudly, pushing on the young boy's head.

“P-please…p-please, I-I’ll do w-whatever you w-want,” he begged, panic evident in his voice as he tried to hold his tears at bay. He was terrified.

“Well we wanted you to destroy those files but instead…” the other man spoke up, cracking his knuckles before bending down to become face to face with his target.

“...they just disappeared,” his accomplice cut in, before making a mocking gesture. “Poof.”

“I swear it wasn’t me!” The young lad shrieked, his eyes wide as he frantically shook his head, “I’m telling the truth!”

“We don’t believe you,” the first man spat, his fist fastly connecting with the nose of his prey.

Y/N was mesmerized by the violence in front of her, disbelief flooding her veins as she questioned whether or not this was real. But when she heard the pain-filled screams that echoed off the cold stone walls, she realised that this was her reality.

“Last chance,” the integrator shouted, causing the journalist to jump in her spot.

“I s-swear, it’s not…I didn’t,” his victim sobbed, his face now beaten to an unrecognisable state. His body was tired, that much was obvious when he started to wilt onto his side against the cobblestone.

“Shame, I liked you.” The way the sentence was spoken by one of the assailants made Y/N’s blood run cold. It was emotionless, calculated and downright sinister. It was then that she heard the panicked whimpers of their victim, his feet desperately scraping against the floor as he attempted to push himself back further away from them.

“No…NO…PLEA-”

His voice was silenced.

A shot had been fired, the spine shaking sound reverberating off of the walls causing the journalist to jump in fear. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. Fear had paralysed her; she had just witnessed someone's life being taken from them, her gaze focused on the red streams that were currently weaving their way through the intricate cobblestone brick work. It was like time had stopped around her, allowing her thoughts that were moving at a million miles an hour to play clearly as she attempted to make sense of what she had just seen. But none of those deliberations were as prominent as the notion inside her head telling her to run.

Suddenly, and without hesitation, Y/N turned in her spot and began to flee the scene. She was in fear for her own life, and wanted to get away as fast as she possibly could. However, she was not expecting for one of her heels in her hand to collide with the wall she had been leaning against, causing a small chunk of loose cement to fall to the floor, and clatter against the concrete.

“The hell was that?” One of the men said, his words spat through gritted teeth before footsteps started to draw ever closer.

She needed to move, and she had to do it fast.

There was no time for mistakes, no time for false movements as one wrong step could see her life splattered against the cold floor just like Mr John Doe. She had to escape but there was nowhere to run. There were rows and rows of parked cars against the sidewalk, locked doors of closed businesses and run down apartment blocks but there was no immediate obvious retreat. Y/N had to be smart about this, had to think outside of the box and as she ran, her feet silent as her body trembled, her heart pounding in her ears, she turned down another alleyway. This was the only place she could go to get cover, because at the end, there was a blue metal door that would lead into an old publishing company. She had worked there when she was first getting into journalism, and if her memory served her well, she could gain entry without actually having a key.

With laboured breaths, and a million glances over her shoulder, she shakily pulled out her mobile before dialling emergency services. With one hand, she held the phone in place as she came face to face with her only chance. Her fingers shook as they wrapped around the small handle, but with all of her might, she counted on her subconscious and performed the small trick she knew she had stored away in memory. She lifted it up, while pulling back at the same time and when she heard the sound of the lock uncatching, Y/N had never felt so relieved in her entire life. Without a second thought, she rushed inside and pulled the door with her, ensuring it was locked securely and hoping that whoever those guys were, they wouldn’t know how to enter this building.

She rested against the cold stone wall behind her, wide eyes focusing on the shadow covered metal as she desperately listened out for any signs of company. For a brief second, she thought she was safe. However, when the echoes of precise footsteps began to become muffled through the walls, she knew that those killers were just on the other side of this barrier.

“911, what’s your emergency?” She heard the female dispatcher down the line, causing the journalist to jump in her spot, and to snap out of her trance-like state.

“I-I…” Y/N started, her voice low and timid so as to not draw any attention to herself.

“Here piggy, piggy, piggy!” The taunt was chilling, the man responsible for it scraping some item against the wall outside. Judging by the sound, she could only guess that he was using his weapon.

“Ma’am? Is everything alright?” The dispatcher asked, causing her to refocus on her phone.

“P-please h-help,” she whispered, her body starting to slide down the wall as her gaze became trained on the handle of the blue door. She hoped he wouldn’t hear her, that she had found sanctuary.

“Did your parents not teach you that it’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations?” The killer questioned, a small and sadistic chuckle leaving him as he kicked the litter that had gathered outside.

Y/N’s mind was unable to process that she had to find somewhere more safe than this, that one wrong move from her could indicate to the killers that she was just within reach.

“Stay on the line, I’m tracking your location through your call,” the woman on the phone stated calmly. “I’ve dispatched two patrol cars to your area, they’ll be there soon okay?”

“M-mhm,” was all the journalist could muster, her grip tight on the phone next to her ear, as her other fingers dug deep into the palm of her hand.

“The longer this takes, the more angry I become and you wouldn’t want to see my true temper, right!?” The man shouted, before a loud and metallic bang echoed down the alleyway outside. It sounded like he had kicked over a metal bin or moved a large dumpster but either way, it caused Y/N to jump significantly in her spot, a small squeak leaving her.

“Not long, they’re about a minute out,” the dispatcher reassured, but the journalist knew that those next sixty seconds would be the longest of her life. It was such a short window of time where anything could happen; fear had well and truly taken a grip of her heart.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” The killer taunted, his cruel singing sounding like a twisted lullaby as the stones on the floor crunched under each of his calculated footsteps.

It was then that she prayed to whatever or whoever could be listening that she was going to make it out of this alive. Her ears desperate to hear the sounds of sirens, the alarms of safety that would coax her into believing that just maybe she was going to be okay. Yet she could only make out the beats of her heart that thudded against her ribs like a drum.

As she stayed rooted deep within her panic, her whole body jolted as a loud bang of metal echoed throughout the abandoned and littered hallway she was residing in. It took her a moment or two to realise what was happening, but then it became evidently clear. The killer knew where she was, and he had begun forcing his way in. Her time was running out, and she had to either choose to move or face the oncoming threat. But where would she go? There was nothing to hide behind, and knowing there was also a second accomplice that was most likely positioned at the only other exit, she was trapped.

Before she even had the chance to choose, the door was ripped open and in those few miniscule seconds, Y/N was convinced that it was her end. Time slowed as her eyes focused on the tall, dark shadow that loomed in the now open frame of the building, and her breath got caught in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t run. Like a deer in the headlights, she was frozen to the spot with fear.

She had never imagined her death, being a woman that much preferred to live in the moment and focus on the present, but now faced with this imminent threat, she wished it was different. Wanting to pass peacefully in her sleep, having lived a good life. Not suffering at the hands of another, painfully wheezing for life as a bullet became lodged in her chest. Not hoping that her killer would be merciful and choose to aim for her head instead.

The shadow moved quickly and finally her body allowed her to react. Her hands covered her face as she cowered away from the intruder, her sobs bleeding from her lips as she silently pleaded to see another morning. Not like this, please not like this.

“Hey, hey. You’re safe, you’re alright.”A deep voice reassured her, and braving a look between her fingers, she watched how this stranger crouching down to be at her height before he quickly showed her his police badge, proving to Y/N that he was no-one to be in fear of.

It was then that she took a second to take in her new company; he was tall, dressed in a shirt, a tie and a long black coat that stopped mid thigh. His hair was dark in color - in the shadows she could only assume that maybe it was a chestnut brown - and it stopped just below his jawline. He looked nothing like the killers she had seen down the alleyway, and it was upon that realisation that a mixture of relief and morbid understanding washed over her.

“No!” she panicked, shaking her head from side to side. That small offering of reassurance from him wasn’t enough. “ No they murdered somebody! I saw it! They were hunting me down!” she exclaimed. “How is any of that alright?!”

“Because we’re going to protect you,” he offered, his tone warm and comforting as he gave a small, sincere smile. “What is your name?”

“Y-Y/N,” she stammered, her heart still beating erratically as she stared into the kaleidoscopic eyes of the officer in front of her. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Upon hearing that information, his smile widened a little and he offered out his hand for her to take as he slowly began to stand. “Y/N, my name is Sam Winchester and I'm a Detective Sergeant. With your permission, we’re going to head back to the station.”

“What if they see me?” the journalist flustered, slowly pushing her phone back into her pocket. “What if they’re still out there!?”

“We have a car that is reversing into the alley, and here-” Sam shrugged off his coat quickly and handed the item over to her. “Use this to cover your head until we get there.”

Y/N took it, cautiously but grateful all the same. Now her heart rate had slowed, and the adrenaline from the situation was starting to dip, she realised that she was still barefoot and dressed in a strangers shirt. She wanted out of those clothes, and into a very hot shower to wash away everything from that evening. “I just want to go home.”

“Let’s get you checked over first, then I’ll need a statement. But after that, I’ll take you home,” he told her softly and with that promise, she took his hand and began to push herself up off of the floor. Once standing, she wrapped his clothing around her shoulders, grateful for the warmth and in preparation to use it to conceal her identity.

With a nod, she told Detective Winchester that she was ready to move into the car, when another officer came rushing in from the outside. “Sir.”

Sam quickly looked to his side, his brow furrowing when he noticed the stark expression on his colleagues face. When his eyebrows met in the middle, he gestured towards Y/N with one finger, before he moved to stand next to the young man that had come bustling in, bowing his head to lend an ear as he listened to whatever new information had been found.

Of course, all the scared journalist could do was watch the situation unfold in front of her. Her gaze trained on each facial tick the detective gave as the panic that was still so evident in her chest began to resurface. Something was wrong, and she knew it.

“Shit,” Sam pushed out, pinching the bridge of his nose, risking a quick glance back at her before his focus was back on the younger officer. “You sure?”

His company nodded quickly before the detective grimaced and placed his hands on his hips. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew something was amiss here, and that the whole situation was a lot bigger than she had originally thought. Considering her occupation, she was well aware of most of the crimes that went on in this city, and if she was honest, she was already looking forward to writing a scoop on this one when her nerves had calmed. But with the way Sam was looking at her; concerned, perplexed, troubled - she knew that she had landed herself deep in the middle of some serious shit.

“What? What’s going on?” She pressed, taking a tentative step forward as she watched the younger officer exit the worn down old publishing building and step into the street.

“Y/N, I need to get you to safety immediately,” Sam instructed, his tone serious and firm as his hand came to wrap around the top of her arm. His touch was gentle however, even when he started to force the coat over her head for her own privacy. “As soon as we’re at the station, I’ll explain everything.”

——————————————– Chapter Three ——————————————– A/N: Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Thanks for reading! Tag list is open! If you want to be step into the darkness with me, then let me know HERE :)

Tags will be separate <3

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pinkiebieberpie · 9 months

Note

Congrats on all the requests! If I could add one more could we get Dean Winchester with the "only one bed" prompt

thank you!! and thank you for your request!! 🩵🩵

y/n and dean are long time friend, both hunters and honesty there was nothing romantic between them, no weird tension, just two close friends,

after a hunt they both went to the motel to get some rest,

and all rooms with two beds were booked,

that's not a big problem for two close friends right??

"i can sleep on the floor, that's fine."

"no dean, we will fit on this bed together, you won't be sleeping on the fucking floor after a hunt, are you crazy??"

and just like that after taking a shower both of you ended up in the same bed,

it was bigger than it looks,

it wasn't awkward, but y/n was looking at dean most of the time,

"you okay?" he asked with a confused look on his face,

"um, yeah" *blushing*

he is a blind idiot so for him it was nothing,

dean fell asleep first so you were able to feel his arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you close to him, this made you smile,

both of you slept well that night, but in the morning??? things get a bit awkward...

he woke up after you, you still in his arms "morning, dean" and he was speechless, just looking at you and blinking,

after a few seconds he did only one thing he thought about - kissed you, the kiss was lazy and slow,

you moaned into his lips and smiled a little as you kissed him back,

he pulled you on top of him, still holding you tight,

there is nothing wrong with lazy, morning make out session with your work friend, right? right???

supernatural masterlist

#supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean winchester fic #dean winchester spn #dean winchester ff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester au #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester blurb

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notanettelmao · 9 months

Text

Code Breaker pt.1

Also on AO3

(A Teen Wolf Rewrite)

Fandoms: Teen Wolf, Supernatural Warnings: usual TW and SPN stuff Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x reader Word count: 1,7k

tags: @venomsvl @celestair @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng

if you wanna be tagged let me know!

Stiles was securing pictures of the victims with missing hearts that he secretly photocopied from his father's folders to his board with magnets when Y/N ran into his room.

"How did you get here so quickly? Peter lives on the other side of town-" Stiles eyed her curiously, but then he noticed Y/N breathing heavily and trying to catch her breath. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh.

"I ran," Y/N said in between breaths. Stiles shook his head and then turned back to his board to mark the places where the victims were found on a map. Y/N took a few steps closer to the board to get a better look.

"He's making a circle around Beacon Hills, but slowly so it's not noticeable. These cases are all almost six months apart from each other. I don't know how my dad didn't realize they are somehow connected." Stiles said, showing her the dates on the files.

"So he is smart. Which means he has to be sane. Which kinda makes me worried he is not rogue, just power hungry." Y/N sighed and pulled out her phone from her pocket, holding it in her hand and staring at it.

"Are you going to call your brothers to help us?" Stiles asked. Y/N bit her lip, thinking, and then nodded.

"I might have to. I don't know how they will react if they find out about me being friends with three werewolves. Especially Dean." She sighed and sat down on Stiles' bed.

"Castiel healed Peter, right? So if he comes with your brothers, he could tell them all three are friendly? Even though one looks like he could murder you with his eyebrows." Stiles smirked as he sat down next to her. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"He looks like he could murder you even without those eyebrows. Have you seen him shifted? His eyebrows go missing. It's actually hilarious, but don't mention it around him. He doesn't like it." Stiles had to put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing, while Y/N texted her brothers instead of calling them, even sending them a meet-up place because she just didn't trust Kate.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

The black Chevy Impala took longer than expected to arrive in Beacon Hills. Two weeks, to be exact. Two weeks full of the friend group getting chased and attacked by the alpha.

Y/N was impatiently waiting at the motel Dean told her about when they drove her here a few weeks ago. When she finally spotted the car, she stood up from the stairs she was sitting on and waved at her brothers. Both of them were smiling at her, as they exited the vehicle. She knew the smiles would quickly disappear when she would tell them why exactly she called them here.

"Y/N/N! You look like you are finally getting enough sleep!" Was the first thing that left Dean's mouth. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You look like you still drink way too much in your free time," she said back with a grin, spreading her arms to hug him. Dean squeezed her so hard she couldn't breathe, then took a step back and let Sam hug her. At the same time, Roscoe came into view. Stiles was sitting behind the wheel, Scott in the passenger seat, and the two grumpy-looking Hales were squeezed in the back seat. Y/N had to stop herself from laughing.

"So, will you finally tell us what is so urgent that we had to drive all the way here?" Dean asked as he pulled his duffle back from the trunk. Sam, who was watching the new arrivals, turned to look at his sister.

"Yeah. These guys will help me with that." She waved her hand toward the blue Jeep. Dean finally turned to look at them. Scott was giving everyone his kicked-puppy look, Stiles was awkwardly rubbing his neck, Derek just frowned at everyone and Peter smirked when the brothers looked at him.

"Who are they exactly?" Sam asked. Y/N sighed. She then pulled the keys to the brother's booked room from her pocket, turned around, and walked towards the door while speaking.

"I will explain everything when we are inside, we don't need people knowing you are in town, even tho Baby will give you away anyway." All of them followed her inside the room. Sam and Dean each picked a bed and placed their duffle on it to claim it, then they both sat on their own bed. Scott and Peter sat down at the two chairs next to the small table that was in the room, Derek decided to stay near the door, Y/N guessed it was for a quick escape in case Dean decided to shoot them full of silver, and Stiles made his way towards Y/N. He had his arms full of the researched materials she told him to bring.

Y/N cleared her throat and then looked at everyone in the room.

"So, Dean, Sam, these are Scott, Stiles, Derek, and Peter." She motioned to each of them with her hand.

"Everyone, this is Sammy," Y/N pointed to her long-haired brother, who was eyeing the Hales suspiciously. She realized he must have heard about them in the past, along with the pictures from when the fire happened.

"And that one there-" she looked at Dean, "- that will put the gun away!" She frowned at Dean when she realized he was holding his gun, ready to shoot.

"Is Dean." When he didn't put the gun down she sighed and walked up to him, taking it from his hands. She then proceeded to pull another two from his duffle, just to be safe. Stiles eyed the guns and swallowed nervously, realizing he was the only one without superhuman strength or hunter training in the room.

"Y/N, why are we in a room with two werewolves?" Sam asked, not looking away from Peter. Dean was staring right at Derek, who was staring back at him with an even more intense stare.

"I always wanted a dog-" she started, making Stiles snort. Derek shot her an offended look. Y/N just grinned at him and then turned to her brothers.

"I know you guys don't like working with supernatural beings, but you made the exception with Cas, so now trust me with these three."

"Three?" Dean asked, immediately turning to stare at Stiles.

"Oh, not me. I'm just 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones," he motioned towards Scott. Dean gave his sister a look.

"Really? The one with the puppy eyes is the were?" He sounded so done with everything that Y/N wanted to laugh.

"Okay, I called you here because we have a werewolf problem. And also rogue hunters problem. You pick which one is worse." Y/N said. She pulled a few folders from Stiles' arms and spread them on the bed behind Sam. Dean stood up from his bed and walked over to take a look.

"There have been many attacks in the past month, starting with two days before we arrived here and I stayed. It started with Laura Hale, the one that became alpha after the fire. Derek felt the bond snap and arrived from New York the day after it happened. Overnight some hikers found half of Laura's body in the woods and reported it to the police, that's how Stiles got to know about it and he decided it would be a smart idea to go look for the still missing half, along with his asthmatic best friend. As you already know Scott got turned. The alpha bit him and no one since then, so he doesn't want to build a pack." Y/N started explaining, while the brothers looked through the opened folders. The Hales patiently waited for Y/N to explain everything. Stiles took a few steps forward so he was next to Y/N again. She nodded at him.

"He is trying to make it look like Peter did it, but we have evidence that it wasn't him. There were attacks around Beacon Hills where the dead people were missing a heart. Peter was still comatose at the time of those attacks, and even if he wasn't, he is a born wolf." Stiles continued where Y/N left off.

"Yeah, born weres don't feed on hearts, they don't need them to survive." Dean shot both of the Hales a look, before looking back at his sister.

"What else happened?" He asked.

"Well, there was an attack at the video store in town, two of our classmates were present, but they don't know what it was. He has the powers of both, bitten omega and born alpha. He can fully shift into a wolf. But because he isn't a born wolf, the form is deformed. He looks like something from a really bad horror movie." Y/N cringed at the memory of the alpha running after them in the school a few days ago.

"So you saw it?" Sam asked. The three teenagers exchanged looks.

"We, uhm, we kinda.. were chased by it?" Scott said, but it sounded more like a question. Sam and Dean both looked at their sister with a look that could kill her, both taking a breath to say something, but she was quicker.

"Nu-uh, you don't get to say stuff. You guys get chased every single time you hunt something. This was one time only okay." She put her hands on her hips, frowning at her brothers.

"Is there anything else that happened? Or is that all?" Sam asked after a minute.

"Oh, he actually bit the girl that was at the video store, but she didn't turn. She's currently being treated at the hospital because she is not waking up either." Scott informed the brothers.

"I tested her. She's safe. Also from what Stiles, Peter, and I found yesterday, we have a name for the alpha guy. It's Ludensky." Y/N swallowed.

"Wait. Ludensky? As in the guy I shot last year, that thanked me for freeing him of the werewolf curse?" Dean asked, which made everyone look at him. Well, except for Y/N and Sam.

"Yup. That's the one."

"Son of a bitch," Dean let out.

"We need a plan to get rid of him. Anyone has any ideas?" Sam asked. The room was silent until Peter cleared his throat.

"I might have, but I'm not sure if any of you will like it."

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #y/n winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #teen wolf x reader #castiel #scott mccall #teen wolf rewrite #derek hale #peter hale #superantural #supernatural x reader #kind of au?#definitely different from both shows canon now #idk how that happened lol

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jackles010378 · 5 months

Text

MASTER LIST:

Visiting Dean in Hospital

Walk in the forest

Jealous Jensen (interview)

sleepy head dean part 1

sleepy head dean part 2

sleepy head dean part 3

sleepy head dean part 4 {smut}

never been kissed

the boy next door

i cant do this anymore part 1

i cant do this anymore part 2

i cant do this anymore part 3

i cant do this anymore part 4

jealous dean (yoga)

trick or treat

Don't lick your lips (smut)

Happily Ever After Part 1

Happily Ever After Part 2

Happily Ever After, Oh Baby....

Dean in Glasses

From Beyond The Grave

Under The Mistletoe

Beyond the Monster (Benny Lafitte story)

I Can Only Speak The Truth

Snowed In

A Christmas To Remember

Our First Christmas

Christmas Eve Night Fun

Epic Christmas Adventure

Midnight Magic

A New Years Eve to Remember

A Prank Gone Wrong

Flannel of Desire

Saturday Night Special

Instant Relief

An Unthinkable Choice

Its In His Kiss

Happy Birthday Dean

Surprise?

Unexpected Encounter

A Detour To Remember

A Night To Remember

SUPEr Flexible

Intoxicating Pancakes

Valentines Day Surprise

Power Of Love

The Wrong Winchester

Love On The Tee

Steady Ground

A "Leap" Of Faith

Its All About You

Met His Match

A Gift of a Lifetime

Dancing In The Rain

Wait Till I Get Home

Demon Dean Jealous?

The Depths of their Love

Regarding y/n

In this shirt

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #soldier boy #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #jensen ackles fanfiction #dean winchester fan fiction #beau arlen fan fic #jensen ackles x y/n #au dean winchester x reader

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waynes-multiverse · 7 days

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take – April 27

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester reader insert #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester series #actor au #dean winchester au #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n

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