Summary: After you find out you’re pregnant, your relationship with Dean grows cold and distant, causing you to leave to prioritise your growing family. When that drives you into unimaginable damage, Dean has to rethink if he is going to keep putting his pride before his love for you, or be honest with himself for once and all. Pairing: Dean x F!Reader Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Crowley, OC Demons. Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, Canon Typical violence. Established relationship (and a lot of drama about it,)
Summary:Y/N was never a big fan of sailors, so when a ship full of them dock at the harbor in her town, she’s anything but happy. However, there is one in particular that is determined to prove to her that not all men of the sea are the same, and dedicates each day of his shore leave to the task of changing her mind. Will the green eyed sailor prove his point, or hers?
Rating:15+
Warnings: Fluff, just fluff. .
A/N: *sings* and now…the end is here. This is it guys, the last instalment of Hello, Sailor! Can you believe it? Thank you all so so much for reading it. It honestly means the absolute world. Could there be a sequel? Maybe. We’ll see how that goes. I have idea’s rattling in my head but nothing concrete as of yet. It all depends of if it’s something you want too! But honestly, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Love you guys! Hope you enjoy!
I also want to say a massive thank you to my bestie; @deanwanddamons for being my wonderful beta, and for kicking my ass where needed. __________________________
A gentle breeze blew over the diner patio as Y/N wiped down a table that had just been vacated after the breakfast rush. As she leaned forward, sliding the cloth over the surface, the angel wing shell swung back and forth against her chest. The delicate object brushed against her skin and as she stood straight, her fingers came to hold on to it. A smile pulled at her lips as she stood underneath the sunshine, basking in the warmth the golden rays were providing as her mind wandered to the thought of Dean.
Her sailor.
The time they had spent apart had gone agonisingly slow, each day feeling like a week, each month feeling like a year as she waited for the day he would return. As promised though, he had been writing to her. A letter would land on her doormat nearly every day; his scruffy yet readable penmanship the instant indicator that it was from him. There were times when she felt low, her heart yearning for his love like a starving animal craved for a meal, so she would tear open the envelope and read it straight away. Others she waited, the paper burning a hole in her purse as she walked to the end of the docks, and leaned against the mooring post before she allowed herself to get lost in his adventures.
He would tell her tales of where he had been, what his days looked like upon the ship, and when she received the news that he had made the rank of Commander, her chest was fit to burst with pride. She knew she had made the right choice in encouraging him to follow his dream, even though she missed him more than she could possibly describe. Dean would also tell her how his crewmates constantly asked questions about his girl back on dry land. Although, he would never give them the full story as that was something private between the couple, but he would tell them how lucky he was that a woman like Y/N was his. It made her smile to know that he was proud of her, that she was someone who he held in such high regard even after months of being apart. It made her stomach swoop to know that she was in his thoughts everyday, that she was the soul he had chosen to give his heart to.
There had still been no news of when he would return, but the small flame of hope that flickered inside of her never waivered. She still trusted that he would come back, because for the past ten months he had kept his promise. Initially she had the fear that after a few weeks, he would stop writing to her and their journey together would have become a distant memory, a beautiful stamp in time that she could cherish. But that wasn’t to be as he hadn’t forgotten her, and he made sure to remind her of that as often as he could. At the end of every letter, he would always sign off in the exact same way. And no matter how many times she read the words, they alwaysbrought tears to her eyes.
Everyday I miss you more, and everyday I love you more.
Y/N couldn’t wait for when she would receive the news that he was coming back to her little town, that his ship would be docking in the harbor in front of The Daisy Chain. She had been saving up her vacation time for that exact moment, an agreement she had put in place with Donna and Jody. They were more than happy to agree to it, wanting the waitress to finally enjoy her life with a man who she loved. She was so grateful; it was just a waiting game to see when that would be.
The day was warm, and she had opted to wear a loose black and white polka dot sundress, its cotton light upon her body but still, she felt the heat. So, taking a deep breath, she picked up her wash bowl and cloth before she walked back into the diner, grateful for the air conditioning that cooled her skin. She smiled at the patrons that sat in their booths, greeting them with a cheery ‘good afternoon’ as she passed. Once she got to the counter, she lifted up the serving hatch before taking the dirty dishes into the kitchen. She was about to fill the dishwasher, when the sound of her boss caused her to stop.
“Hey sweetie?” It was Jody, and she came to stand by her side with a clipboard in hand. “Could you come and help me in the back? We’ve had a delivery and I just need to count everything before we move it into here.”
“Of course,” Y/N agreed without hesitation, leaving the job she was doing to follow in her friend’s footsteps as she led her towards the rear of the establishment. It didn’t take long to get there and as she walked into the room, the metal shutter open due to the truck that brought the stock was parked, her eyes grew wide. “That is a lot of potatoes.”
At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her, but everywhere she looked there were sacks and sacks of the root vegetable. Carrots, green beans and things such as bread rolls were also mixed in but they were few and far between. Slowly her hands came to rest upon her hips as she took in the whole scene in front of her.
Jody just slowly nodded at her reaction, a little chuckle passing her lips as she looked down at the order form and then back to what surrounded them. “I think Rufus went a bit overboard, hence me needing your help.”
“You’re not kidding,” Y/N laughed before moving across the floor to start sorting, but her boss stopped her in her tracks, handing off the clipboard and pen.
“Can you make the notes?” Jody asked her kindly, “I only have one pair of protective gloves so would prefer to do the heavy lifting myself.”
“That’s fine,” she agreed, although she felt bad that her friend was going to be doing all the work.
It took a couple of hours for them to sort through everything that had been delivered, with Y/N offering a few times to swap roles so she could do her fair share, but Jody constantly refused. As they neared the end, her boss heaving a sack of potatoes back onto the truck, the door that led back into the diner opened to reveal Donna, a bright and infectious smile on her face.
Without explanation, she nodded towards Jody before she traversed the stock to get to Y/N’s side, her fingers combing through the waitress’s hair. The blonde moved a few wayward strands, tucked the rest behind one ear before cupping her cheeks, all while ignoring the confused expression that Y/N was wearing.
“Beautiful,” Donna gushed, before she grabbed the clipboard out of the grasp of the bewildered help and passed it to Jody.
“Thank you?” Y/N replied, her brows furrowed as she tried to work out the behaviour of her bosses.
But before she could question it, the blonde grabbed her by the hand and began to pull her back into the main area of the diner while muttering, “Come with me.”
Of course she did as she was told, and tried her hardest to keep in step with the woman whose grip was tight on her fingers. Their heels echoed loudly over the wooden floors, causing all the customers of The Daisy Chain to focus on the pair as they weaved their way through the tables. Her dress was floating behind her due to the speed she was currently walking. She had tried to ask just what the rush was, but she was met with Donna’s hushing before she bundled her out of the front doors and onto the harbor.
Before Y/N could react, the blonde’s hands had grabbed tightly onto the tops of her arms and twisted her attention towards the bay. That was when she saw it. The large ship that had docked on the bay, the vessel that struck a perfect resemblance to the one that Dean was stationed on. Her stomach churned, her heart pounding hard against her ribs, her palms growing sweaty as her fingers came to clasp the angel wing that hung around her neck.
“Is that…” she breathed softly, her trembling legs carrying her a few steps further out onto the docks so she could get a clearer view.
She didn’t want to get her hopes up, didn’t want to experience the excitement of being able to see her Dean again only to be let down if it wasn’t. She felt like she was holding her breath, her grip tight on the shell he had bought her as her eyes frantically scanned through the growing crowd for the name of the ship. It was almost as if everything was happening in slow motion and she couldn’t get time to move as quickly as she would like. But soon, there was a clear break in the sea of people and her gaze landed on bold black letters. USS Anzio.
“But he didn’t-” Y/N started, her voice starting to tremble with the overflowing wave of emotion that was flooding her. He hadn’t told her he was coming, and had said that it could be another month before he arrived back in her town. It was then that her eyebrows began to knit together, and she turned to Donna who was still standing behind her, “How did you–”
Her query was interrupted by the blonde passing over a letter, and immediately the waitress identified the penmanship as Dean’s, “He wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Oh my god,” she whispered, a tear falling onto her cheek as she read the words her sailor had written. They were full of nothing but love and adoration for her, and he wanted his return to be a secret so she wouldn’t worry about his voyage back home into her arms.
“Go get him, sugar,” Donna encouraged her, taking the letter from her hands before giving her a gentle nudge forward.
Y/N didn’t have to be told twice, so she ran as fast as her legs would allow, praying that her feet wouldn’t fail her while she weaved through waiting families. From what she could see, the ramp had already been lowered meaning sailors must have started to come ashore. It was then that she saw the uniforms, men embracing their lovers, their children, their friends. Her heart was still pounding, her chest still heaving with each anxious breath she took as she desperately searched for her man, for the soul that made her complete.
The seconds felt like minutes, and the anxious pit in her stomach was bubbling as she had yet to find Dean. She was having a hard time locating him, deception lurking at every turn due to the clothes the men of the sea were wearing. But he was a Commander now, he should be easily identifiable so why could she not spot him in this ever growing crowd?
She was just about to panic, about to open the door to her fear that maybe something could have happened to him on his way here, when two large palms rested on her hips from behind. Just like that, she was no longer frightened that he hadn’t returned. No longer scared that he was in harm’s way, because two deep and husky words were spoken as soon as she felt that contact, blanketing her in the comfort she sought.
“Hey Sparky.”
Immediately, she turned around in his hold, her heart ready to burst out of her chest as she saw the familiar emerald orbs looking straight at her. The corner of Dean’s eyes crinkled as he smiled wide and bright. He looked a little more tanned from his time at sea causing his freckles to stand out a little more than she remembered. It was his fingers stroking her cheek that brought her out of her trance, his touch delicate, his thumb tenderly caressing her skin as if he was testing that this moment was as real as he hoped.
She couldn’t wait any longer, it had already been ten months without him. So without hesitation, Y/N rolled onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing herself against his body in excitement and wanting. Automatically he tightened his hold on her before he lifted his girl from the floor, their noses tenderly nudging against each other as they both wore their happiness with pride. That was when her lips found his, kissing him with all the love she could muster. Dean Winchester was home, he was safe and he had returned to her just like he had promised.
With reluctance, she pulled back from him to look into his eyes once more, her hands now cupping his slightly stubbled cheeks as he gently lowered her back to the ground. They didn’t part though, their foreheads remained connected as he pulled her body tight against his. That was the moment she finally found the courage to speak, that she was able to trust that her words would not fail her in a breath of overwhelming emotion, to greet her man that had been away for so long.
“Hello, Sailor.”
——————————————– THE END ——————————————– A/N: And so it’s done. Did you like it? Please, please,let me know what you think if and when you have time.
Much love to you all!
Also…keep those peepers peeled for a new series announcement!
Characters: Firefighter!Dean x Doctor!Reader, Garth, other minor characters
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, SMUT (Oral - f. receiving, fingering, P-in-V, unprotected sex - 18+ only!)
A/N: I know, I know, it’s been months, and I’m so sorry! But chapter 11 is finally here, yay! I hope this makes up for the ridiculously long hiatus but I finally had the chance to sit down, go over it and get things to piece together how I wanted, and hopefully how you’ll like. Thank y’all so much for reading! Sitting my ass down right-fucking-now to get the next chapter out as soon as possible!
Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!
Your voice caught in your throat, you feel all blood drain from your cheeks and a sudden chill settle in your bones.
Dean. He is here, standing but a few feet from you, expectant eyes staring deep into your soul, waiting on bated breath for your response. It’s only been a few seconds, yet you feel as though you’ve been standing in place for eons – watching him, admiring his breathtaking beauty that somehow seems to have doubled in the few months you’ve spent apart from each other.
He makes a small movement towards you, and you curse yourself silently when your feet shuffle backwards instinctively. You want to respond, are yelling at yourself to say something, anything at all, but words fail as if the connection between your brain and your mouth is severed. The door to your side opens and you jump in place as Annabel steps into the room. The breeze accompanying her entrance courses around you, serves to shock you off your frozen state and you can hear Annabel introducing herself to Dean. She turns to you and you hand her the chart you’d been clutching in your arms, your own movements robotic and stiff. The lock to the en suite clicks and you see a thin man exit, he has a kind smile for you as Annabel explains to him who you are. Forcefully, you return the smile and continue looking at the strange man as Annabel talks to him about next steps, but you’re painfully aware of the green eyes burning holes in the side of your face. You chance a look to where Dean still stands next to the patient bed and could almost see the exact second where his expression turns from one of shock to one you can’t quite place, but are fairly certain is anger.
“What do you think, Dr. Y/L/N?”
Your head sharply turns again at the sound of your name being said and you see Annabel looking at you questioningly, “I’m so sorry, what was that, again?”
Annabel repeats her approach and you take the chance to step further from Dean and closer to the patient, Garth, who you now vaguely remember having a short conversation with Dean about. Settling on a plan with Annabel quickly, she continues talking to Garth and you take the chance to excuse yourself for a moment. You head for the door and the moment you set foot in the hallway, you feel a wave of nausea run through you. A nurse passes by and you ask to be directed to the nearest bathroom, he points you in the direction and you quickly make your way over.
What the hell is he doing here? You must be cursed, this kind of thing doesn’t happen to normal people, does it? Of all people to run into, of all places to run into someone, it had to be Dean and it had to be here.
The nausea subsides as you lean over one of the sinks of the restroom you entered and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You can see the fear in your eyes, the anxiety creeping up your spine as you remember the look in Dean’s eyes once he’d gotten over the shock of running into you. God, he must hate me…
Someone walks into the bathroom and you realize you’ve been standing there for too long. You need to go back and give Annabel some sort of explanation for your odd behavior, as well as excuse yourself for the rest of the day, and hopefully manage to avoid Dean in the process of it all.
Sure, ditch him again. It’s not like you haven’t been so horrible to him before.
You curse under your breath, knowing that your plan is cowardly, again. You want to be brave, be able to walk up to Dean and apologize. You want to let him say his piece, show his anger and chastise you for your behavior, but in truth you don’t know if you can take it. Not from him, at least.
Though you hate what you did to Dean by leaving so suddenly, you still treasure the memory of that last night by his side. The way he cared for you, treated you like a queen, touched you like you’ve never been touched before… How you ended it will always be one of the worst things you’ve ever done, yes, but that memory is your happy place. It’s sweet, precious, untarnished.
If you go to him now, it won’t be. If you let him say his truth and tell you how much he wishes he’d never met you, that last memory of your last night together will be taken from you. Instead of a loving embrace, your final memory of Dean Winchester will be him walking away from you after breaking your heart. Something you deserve, you know that… but not something you’re brave enough to take.
Taking a deep breath, having made up your mind to avoid Dean at all costs, you head back out to the hallway and warily make your way to Annabel’s office. You turn the corner and are about to reach the elevator when you see Garth being taken down the hallway in a gurney. And that’s when you realize… Dean is in Chicago to take care of a friend.
Who does that? What kind of person drops everything and gets on a plane to fly to another state to take care of a friend that they rarely even see anymore?
The good kind. And Dean Winchester is the best kind of person there is. He’s caring, loyal, the most selfless man you’ve ever met. He deserves better than to be ditched and avoided. He deserves at least a better explanation than some hurriedly written note, and definitely deserves the chance to get his thoughts and feelings off his chest.
Suddenly feeling braver than you have in a long time, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the room in which Garth was placed. Hopefully it’s not too late and he hasn’t left quite yet, though the chances of him still being in the room are slim. You finally arrive at the room and place a hand on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself for whatever you’re about to face and open the door carefully. You enter the room, a knot in the back of your throat as you look up from the floor and you can feel panic rise within as you see Dean still in the room, gathering what seem to be some of Garth’s personal belongings.
He looks up from the duffel bag he’s packing on the bed and once again, the air gets knocked out of your lungs as his eyes meet yours. What little courage you had earlier begins to slowly seep out of you and you’re having a hard time not running away.
Dean sighs and looks back down to the duffel on the bed, “come to ignore me some more, or did you just forget something?”
His voice is harsh and you can hear the anger and pain behind his words. Forcing some air back into your body, you clear your throat, “I - erm, I was hoping to talk, um, if that would be okay with you…”
He doesn’t respond but you close the door to the room to ensure some sort of privacy. Taking small, measured steps, you walk closer to him but stop in your tracks when you notice him stiffening as you draw closer. He doesn’t look up from his packing, but says, “talk about what? I think you made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Dean, I - “
“If you’re here to apologize, apology accepted. Otherwise, don’t worry, I’m not stalking you or anythin’. You can go back to avoiding me.”
You visibly flinch at the sting of his words, a detail that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he never really forgave you like he told his friends, and himself, all those times. Whatever the case may be, he knows he didn’t mean to snap like he did, “sorry. I didn’t mean -”
“It’s okay,” you interrupt, “y-you’re right. I’ve been avoiding you when in reality it should be you avoiding me. What I did was… reprehensible.”
Dean, who has stopped packing the duffel completely and is now sitting on the bed, sighs, “that’s one way to put it.”
“Listen, Dean, I know I’m in no place to ask for anything from you – frankly, the fact that I’m even trying is too much – but, is there any chance you’d be able to meet me later tonight? I just, I feel like I owe you an explanation and I’d really like it if you could spare me a few minutes, maybe somewhere a little more private?” You hold your breath, expecting to be rejected but are surprised when Dean agrees to give you a chance.
You thank him and go to leave, having made plans to meet at the restaurant in your hotel for dinner. After apologizing to Annabel, you head straight to the hotel and hope that the nagging feeling in your gut is just nerves about your impending talk with Dean and not a preamble to a horrible night.
The few hours that have passed have been more than enough to put you on edge. By the time Dean texts you to tell you he’s on the way to your hotel, your nerves are fried and you fidget with your outfit and makeup for the thousandth time.
You look in the mirror, a small smile on your face as you give your appearance one last check before heading down to the lobby. You opted for something simple, dark jeans and a blouse with light makeup. Still, a big part of you wants to look your best for Dean.
“Table for two?” says the hostess when she sees you and Dean arrive. You nod and follow her to a table in the corner of the small restaurant, really it’s more of a lounge but it’s quiet and private enough for the conversation you’re about to have with Dean. When he arrived, you immediately felt faint and breathless. Though you saw him earlier, seeing him and being so close to him again made your chest tighten and the butterflies in your stomach go berserk. Ever the gentleman, he asked about your day and guided you to where the signs in the lobby indicated the restaurant was situated.
Now, sitting across from one another, you still find it hard to breathe and come up with anything other than one word responses and meek smiles. Finally, as the drinks are placed in front of you, whiskey for Dean and wine for you, he leans forward and asks, “so, what did you want to talk about?”
There it is. The million dollar question.
You look down and find your fingers anxiously wrapped around the stem of your wine glass. You know what you want to say, at least you did a couple hours ago, but have no idea how to begin. Instead, you go to take a sip of your wine and end up downing the whole thing in one go. Putting the glass down, you look at Dean and for a moment you swear you could see the corner of his mouth twitch the tiniest visible bit.
“Okay,” you breathe out. “First things first - “
“Are we ready to order?” the waitress interrupts to ask you, though you suspect her question is more directed at Dean as her eyes are glued to his face and her smile screams for attention.
Dean barely glances at her as he orders and, feeling bad for the girl, you try to be nicer though she glares at you as you place your order. Once she’s gone, you look back to Dean, who is still staring expectantly at you.
“Um, right.” Here we go, “like I was saying, first of all, I need you to know that leaving you… it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I am so sorry. What I did was just, well, unacceptable for one, and so unfair to you. You know, you opened your home and your heart to me and I-”
You stop for a moment as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. Dean is silent, listening to every word yet remaining unreactive to any of it. Clearing your throat, you continue, “It’s not lost on me, Dean - the fact that I left you in such a cowardly manner. But that was all me, my fears took over and I just felt that I needed to leave, I needed to do something to prove that I can make choices for myself. And I knew that if I even let myself thinkof having an actual relationship with you, I would stay… for you. I don’t expect you to forgive me or even accept it, but if you could find it within you to understand, I couldn’t be that girl that changed her life for someone else. I did that once and I just couldn’t do it again.”
Looking down, you sniffle as you search for your napkin to wipe the tears from your face but find yourself frozen as Dean has left his seat and is now crouched down next to you, his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist. You lift your gaze and close your eyes as he takes the napkin and wipes your tears for you. He places the soft cloth down and his hand reaches up to touch the side of your face. The second you feel his touch, you feel as though a great weight is lifted off your chest and you let a shuddering breath out as his thumb gently caresses your cheek.
“Sweetheart,” Dean starts and you open your eyes to find yourself staring into deep emerald pools. “I would never hold that against you. If anything, I was prepared to let you go. The decision was always yours, and whatever it was, you always had my full support.
“Now, do I wish things had been handled differently? Of course,” he continues. “ And, sure, maybe I do still resent you a little for the way you left things between us but, trust me, I never even thought about making you change your entire life for me. That just wouldn’t be fair to you, and I… I love you too much to hurt you like that.”
You gasp softly as Dean says those three little words. During your stay in California, it became apparent just how much you love him, too. The pain you felt in your chest every single day was the biggest indicator. Before you can respond, Dean closes the short gap between you and you close your eyes.
His kiss is gentle, at first, tentative as he brushes his lips against yours with featherlight touch. The second you feel him against you, you sigh into his mouth, feeling as though you were finally complete again. Slowly, he begins to kiss you more urgently, his hand traveling to the back of your head as his tongue asks for entrance. You gladly give in, excitement coursing through your veins until the sound of someone nearby clearing their throat brings you both back to reality and Dean pulls back. You feel your cheeks warm as the waitress stares at you with a raised eyebrow and a forced smile, apologizing and announcing the arrival of your food. If Dean feels any embarrassment, he’s extremely good at hiding it because he simply returns to his seat and smiles politely as the food is set in front of you.
After asking if you need anything else, and throwing you a death glare, the waitress leaves and you look up to find Dean smirking as he watches your reaction, which he finds adorable and, quite honestly, hilarious. Especially the way your cheeks become visibly red and you avoid eye contact while your voice turns a couple octaves higher. In that moment, he realizes he’d almost forgotten just how beautiful you are and his chest tightens as pure joy overtakes his senses. He’s missed you for so long, never feeling quite right, a part of him always somewhat empty. And now that emptiness is finally gone, replaced by your mere presence. Admittedly, when he agreed to meet with you, he had prepared to at least make a clean break. But from the moment he saw you, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that, it would hurt too much, and when you began to cry, all his resolve went out the window and all he knew was that he needed to make you feel better, whatever it took. Now, seeing your reaction after his kiss, a kiss which had brought life back to him, he couldn’t help but smile.
For a few moments, you both sit there fiddling with your food, neither hungry anymore. At least, not hungry for the dishes in front of you, but rather hungry for each other. You don’t know how, but part of you can see in Dean’s eyes the same desire that you feel.
“Room 1107,” you whisper.
“Read my mind, sweetheart.” Dean stands and takes his wallet out, throwing a couple bills on the table as you gather your purse and jacket. You both hurry out of the lounge, Dean holding your hand as you head to the elevators. The doors open and you rush inside, barely pressing the button to your floor when Dean pushes you up against the side of the lift, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. The air becomes hot and heavy, his hands are everywhere; on your hips, your waist, his fingers digging deep into the flesh beneath your blouse. You hold on to him for support and are about to wrap your legs around his waist when the elevator dings, signaling arrival to your floor. Everything is a haze as you rush out and fumble through your purse contents for your roomkey as Dean continues holding on to you, your back against his chest, his lips lightly sucking on the tender skin on the side of your neck. Shaky fingers wrap around the keycard and before you know it, you’re turned around, kissing Dean once more as he walks you backwards into the hotel room. Clothes are flying everywhere, the both of you a mere blur as you make your way to the bed, and the only thing you can focus on is the wonderful sensation of Dean’s skin against your own.
You giggle as you fall backwards onto the soft surface of the mattress, Dean standing above you, admiring your form as you do his. He’s so beautiful, so perfectly carved to your every desire, and underneath it all is the man you’ve come to love more than any before.
You lean up on your elbows as Dean kneels before you, his gaze full of love and admiration, you feel as though you may cry. No one before had ever looked at you with quite such… reverence. You smile as Dean leans down and gently presses his lips to your inner calf, slowly making his way up your leg, the stubble now adorning his cheek tickling you along the way. You lean back as his lips explore the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. A soft moan escapes as he comes closer still to your now-soaked core, begging to be touched by those plump, full lips of his. Suddenly, his warm breath fans over your mound and you whine in protest and buck your hips upwards impatiently. He chuckles at your eagerness and wants to give in to the sweet sounds you make as he comes even closer, yet he knows he doesn’t want to rush it, not this. Slowly, agonizingly slow, his tongue traces a single line up your center, causing goosebumps to cover your whole body. Dean smiles and grabs your legs, placing them on his shoulders, before suddenly diving in once more, only this time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks lightly which makes your legs tighten. Your hands are tangled in the sheets of the bed and you’ve forgotten how to breathe as Dean continues licking and sucking, his tongue taking you places you’ve only dreamed of. He continues feasting on you, delighted by your moans and whimpers, coming up every now and then to admire his work, how your body glistens and writhes at his touch.
Soon, you feel the coil in your belly tighten and Dean can tell you’re close. He slips a single finger into your sweet, dripping wet opening and groans as he feels your walls tighten. He adds another finger and begins fucking you as he continues sucking on your bundle of nerves. Gradually, his fingers go faster and faster, the pace matched by his lips and tongue until it all becomes too much and your orgasm hits like a freight train. You scream out in pleasure, your legs closing in around Dean, back arched and hands nearly pulling the sheets right off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure drown you in pure, complete bliss.
Before you can fully recover, you find yourself enveloped by warmth as Dean crawls up on the bed and catches your lips in a sweet kiss. His lips taste of you and you simply cannot get enough. Without breaking the kiss, you both move up the bed and Dean lines himself up with your entrance. He pulls back and stares deep into your eyes as his throbbing cock enters you slowly, inch by inch stretching your cunt. You gasp, your body on fire as he begins to move his hips. In and out, his eyes never leave yours as he makes love to you. His hands caress the side of your body and you trace your nails across his back, the pads of your fingers feeling the way his back muscles contract and extend as he continues his perfect movements.
He’s always been attractive, to the point of perfection to you but at this moment, he is simply beautiful. His lips are slightly parted, cheeks flushed, his sweat-soaked hair touching his forehead. And his eyes, those mesmerizing windows to the most wonderful soul, they see right through you with such fervor and love.
As the connection between you grows, so does the tension in the pit of your stomach. Dean knows exactly what to do when it comes to your body and you find yourself climbing closer and closer to that marvelous precipice, that moment of release you so desperately crave. He can tell how close you are and he struggles to hold back, too. The expression on your face, the sounds slipping past your lips, your walls contracting around him in sweet and delicious anticipation, it’s all he’s dreamed of for months. He wants to take you there, wants to see you become undone before him.
His movements speed up and become erratic, nearly sloppy. You close your eyes as you feel your orgasm loom around the corner, you’re so close, so tantalizingly, ridiculously close. Dean’s lips latch on to the tender skin on your neck, sucking at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, the pulse point he knows will drive you absolutely insane. His teeth nip at your skin as his hips continue ramming into you. Your moans turn to screams and your vision turns white as the coil in your belly snaps and you’re suddenly hit with the most unimaginable pleasure. Electricity courses through your body, spreading from your core to the tips of your curling toes, blazing through your nerves like the most devastatingly sublime wildfire. As your body seizes, Dean can’t hold back anymore, groaning as he lets go, his seed filling you up. He collapses on top of you and rolls off, pulling you along to lay your head on his chest.
It’s a couple moments before either of you can catch your breath, you look up at Dean who places a kiss on your forehead before looking up at the ceiling. You smile as you continue to look at him - finally feeling complete after so many months of loneliness - when the words leave your mouth.
Warnings: Angst, show-level violence (TW: Torture), some fluff
A/N: Back again from another Hiatus, tbh things have been bleak creatively-speaking. This just sort of happened, I’m sorry in advance but I hope you enjoy reading. Thank you to everyone for your patience and support, you’re all amazing! Special thanks to my lovely @downanddirtydean for being the absolute best!
Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more! ☺️
Heavy rain beat down on the desolate road upon which Dean drove in the middle of the night. The rhythmic tapping of rainwater pounding against the frame of his 1967 Chevy Impala was drowned out by the riffs of a guitar coming from the speakers inside the cabin. Despite the dangers posed by the deluge currently surrounding him, Dean did not stop.
Instead, he stepped further down on the gas, forcing the engine to work overtime against the environment. The cacophony of noises was more than enough to ensure that Dean could hear nothing but random sound, not even his own thoughts.
It had been a week since he last had any contact with anyone, including his brother, Sam. A week since he lost his best friend, a week since he took the lives of an entire family in a blind rage that scared even him.
Warnings: SMUT (this is R-rated so please please do not read if you are under 18) - light bondage, unprotected sex, fingering. Some fluff, some angst. Jealousy.
A/N: Every now and then I find some extra time, and thankfully inspiration, to write so yeah this happened… enjoy!
Warnings: Angst, show-level violence (TW: Torture), some fluff
A/N: Back again from another Hiatus, tbh things have been bleak creatively-speaking. This just sort of happened, I’m sorry in advance but I hope you enjoy reading. Thank you to everyone for your patience and support, you’re all amazing! Special thanks to my lovely @downanddirtydean for being the absolute best!
Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more! ☺️
Heavy rain beat down on the desolate road upon which Dean drove in the middle of the night. The rhythmic tapping of rainwater pounding against the frame of his 1967 Chevy Impala was drowned out by the riffs of a guitar coming from the speakers inside the cabin. Despite the dangers posed by the deluge currently surrounding him, Dean did not stop.
Instead, he stepped further down on the gas, forcing the engine to work overtime against the environment. The cacophony of noises was more than enough to ensure that Dean could hear nothing but random sound, not even his own thoughts.
It had been a week since he last had any contact with anyone, including his brother, Sam. A week since he lost his best friend, a week since he took the lives of an entire family in a blind rage that scared even him.
Warnings: Angst, show-level violence (TW: Torture), some fluff
A/N: Back again from another Hiatus, tbh things have been bleak creatively-speaking. This just sort of happened, I’m sorry in advance but I hope you enjoy reading. Thank you to everyone for your patience and support, you’re all amazing! Special thanks to my lovely @downanddirtydean for being the absolute best!
Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more! ☺️
Heavy rain beat down on the desolate road upon which Dean drove in the middle of the night. The rhythmic tapping of rainwater pounding against the frame of his 1967 Chevy Impala was drowned out by the riffs of a guitar coming from the speakers inside the cabin. Despite the dangers posed by the deluge currently surrounding him, Dean did not stop.
Instead, he stepped further down on the gas, forcing the engine to work overtime against the environment. The cacophony of noises was more than enough to ensure that Dean could hear nothing but random sound, not even his own thoughts.
It had been a week since he last had any contact with anyone, including his brother, Sam. A week since he lost his best friend, a week since he took the lives of an entire family in a blind rage that scared even him.
Warnings: SMUT (this is R-rated so please please do not read if you are under 18) - light bondage, unprotected sex, fingering. Some fluff, some angst. Jealousy.
A/N: Every now and then I find some extra time, and thankfully inspiration, to write so yeah this happened… enjoy!
*I do not own any Supernatural characters or gifs I may use*
Putting down the book you’re reading you listen, suddenly realizing it’s been awfully quiet in the bunker for a while now. Sure, Sam never was one to make a lot of noise, but Dean on the other hand.. he tended to turn on his music too loudly, sometimes unconsciously other times just to annoy you and Sam. Tended to drop things or talk along with certain horror movies he was watching for the millionth time. Things like that.
Normally you wouldn’t think too much of it, figuring het might just be in the garage working on Baby that he’s fallen asleep. But the conversation between the two of you make the silence seem all the more suspicious
He’d barged into your room, grinning from ear to ear and his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Pie,” is all he says at first, making you chuckle. Of course that’s the only thing that would get him to smile like that. That man’s love for pie was insane.
“Yeah,” you answer, reciprocating his smile. “I bought you some when I went out this morning.”
Instead of the usual thank you he shakes his head. “No, no,” he says before explaining. “Pie. I found a recipe for a gigantic pie,” he says while gesturing. Now, it’s not like you didn’t know Dean could cook. Because he could. You were well aware of how he had to take care of Sammy when the both of them were younger and even now he cooked dinner for the three of you a lot. It’s just that being able to cook didn’t necessarily equal being able to bake. Aside from the fact you didn’t have the right oven to bake an enormous pie, let alone the right place to store it.
“Dean,” you start, trying not to sound too harsh. “You can’t, we don’t have the right stuff and we already have pie,” you say, hating how much it makes you sound like your mother, remembering how she’d always tell you she had food at home when you asked her if she would stop by McDonalds.
He had left then, disappointed you didn’t seem to be on board with the plan, and you hadn’t heard from him since.
You stop by Dean’s room first, silently opening his door, careful not to wake him in case he is sleeping. But you find nothing but an empty bed and some laundry you’re going to have to ask him to put in the hamper later.
After that you figure the kitchen is probably your best bet to find him now, so that’s where you go next.
Upon entering you can barely hold back a shriek. The kitchen is a complete mess, the counter is scattered with several apple cores, the floor and table are almost equally white, both covered in flour. You’re pretty sure you see a broken egg on the floor also. And then there’s Dean standing in the middle of it all. His flannel and face are covered in white streaks, pieces of whatever clinging to his front hairs while he attempts to pour batter from one baking tray into another, spilling half of it in the process.
“What on earth are you doing?” you ask, announcing your presence as Dean hadn’t noticed it yet, startling him and causing him to spill even more of the batter.
“I’m baking an enormous pie,” he says when looking up, smiling at you sheepishly.
“I believe that was the very thing I told you not to do,” trying to dodge as many of everything that’s laying on the ground as you step closer towards him.
He grins wider now. “Did you really think I’d listen?” he counters, cocking one eyebrow at you.
Shaking your head you can’t supress a smile either. Of course you didn’t think he would listen, you’d hoped that for once he would have though. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you chuckle.
“You bet I am,” Dean says. He tries to pull you closer to him, but you refuse, not wanting to get your clothes all messy too. But as you focus on getting his hands of your hips he quickly leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and causing your hands to fall to your sides. No matter how many times he did something like that, he could still make you feel like a lovesick teenager. Your stomach exploding with butterflies or blushing just as badly.
When he pulls away again he wipes a finger over your face before you’re even able to react, leaving a white streak straight over your cheek. “Dean!” you exclaim, laughing as he continues. Wiping flour over the top of your nose and your other cheek too. “I’m gonna have to take a shower now,” you say, sighing.
“Well how about,” he answers breathlessly, tracing his finger down your face and putting it under your chin, making you look up. “We take one together?”
Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest, your lips slightly parted as you search for a response. Your brain doesn’t seem to be able to cooperate anymore. “Let’s do it,” is all you manage to bring out, Dean’s eyes going a shade darker before he pulls you along with him, leaving the kitchen be to clean the both of you up.
A/N:bc I think we could all use a Dean to take care of us when we’ve had a little too much to drink :’)
*I do not own any Supernatural characters or gifs I may use*
You didn’t consider yourself to be a bad drinker. Just as Dean, you were able to drink a lot before actually getting drunk. That’s one of the reasons the two of you loved going to bars together so much. You’d always try to get the other drunk first, the alcohol flowing through your veins loosening you both up and making it easier to talk about whatever it was that came up. Sometimes the two of you would make bets with random people, betting on who could down the most shots or chug a glass of beer the quickest, barely ever losing one of them. Other times you’d just drink and talk, enjoying each other’s company.
In other words, you and Dean going to a bar together always ended in a good night. You enjoyed making bets and drinking people, especially the ones who underestimated you, under the table. You enjoyed challenging Dean and, even though soberly you would never admit it, you liked having deep conversations with him. The kind of conversations you could only have after having consumed just the right amount of alcohol.
But tonight you might’ve overestimated yourself a little.
You and the Winchesters just wrapped up a case earlier today. Said case being a nasty witch with anger issues a few towns over. Luckily neither of you got hurt, but it was a case that, in all your opinions, took way too long to figure out. After returning to the bunker and unpacking most of your stuff it, it takes one shared look between you and Dean to make a silent agreement on your next stop: the nearest bar.
You ask Sam to tag along, but he insists on wanting to catch up on sleep, maybe do some reading, so you simply wish him a good night and let him be. He didn’t usually go to bars with you and Dean, but you always asked.
Not soon after you’ve changed into a new and fresher pair of clothes. You don’t spend too much time on your outfit, not caring how it looks as long as it isn’t ripped or smells weird, and before you know it you and Dean are walking side to side towards the nearest bar you know to find, sharing an occasional thought about the case or other random things.
Right when entering the bar both of you do a quick scan of the crowd, making sure there don’t happen to be any suspicious characters hanging around to cause a fuss or take advantage of you once the alcohol kicks in and lowers your guard, before sitting down at the bar, Dean ordering drinks for the both of you.
You make more small talk as you drink your first glass, taking a sip of it every now and then and enjoying the slight burn in your throat the drink leaves in its wake.
It isn’t long before Dean hands you your second glass, grinning. “Dare you to drink it in seven seconds,” he says, challenging you as he takes a sip of his drink himself, knowing full well you won’t be able to refuse. That’s all part of the game, refusing is losing. And you both were just too damn stubborn to lose.
You chuckle, rolling your eyes, knowing just as well this was just a warm-up and a challenge you could easily fulfil. You don’t even bother asking what it gets you. You don’t care. You have nowhere to be tomorrow, except for Dean you’re surrounded by people you don’t know and you’re ready to get wasted. “You’re on, Winchester,” you answer, smiling right back at him. You take the glass and chug its content down effortlessly, looking Dean straight in the eye as you do so. He doesn’t even bother counting either.
You are in for an interesting night.
As soon as you slam your empty glass down on the bar, Dean motions for the barman, telling him to keep ‘em coming before sliding him some bills in advance. Almost instantly your glasses get replaced with new ones.
You take a sip, still grinning to yourself, when a voice speaks up besides you. Looking over you notice two men sitting on the seats next you. They don’t look like they mean any trouble so you just flash them a smile and hum in response.
“We overheard your little bet over there,” he continues. “Are the two of you in for a game?” he asks, his companion nodding along to his words.
You look back at Dean, interest obviously sparked, with raised eyebrows. Silently questioning if he’s in. As soon as a mischievous grin appears on his face you know: it’s on. “What do you have in mind?” you reply, smirking as well.
“Ever heard of a game called Medusa?” he asks, and when the both of you shake your head he begins explaining. “It’s actually quite simple. The four of us shut our eyes, one of us alternatively counting down from three to zero. On the count of zero everyone opens their eyes and stares directly at someone else. As soon as you lock eyes with someone you yell ‘Medusa’ and the person who says it last has to drink. You’re in the clear if you don’t lock eyes but, just a heads up, that doesn’t happen very often,” he says. “Get it?”
You nod, Dean mimicking you, and begin the first round. Even though you’d never heard of the game before, you get the gist of it pretty quickly and discover that you absolutely suck at it. You’d figured that with you being a hunter and all you’d be able to react faster but it turns out you were wrong. It seems to be working for Dean though, he’s barely lost a round so far.
After a couple of rounds the two men call it quits, assuring you that if they ever meet you again they’ll challenge you for a rematch. You laugh and thank them, letting them know that of course you’d never back down from a challenge like that, before they pay for their drinks and leave.
“That was interesting,” Dean says, looking down at all the empty glasses the barman has yet to clear up.
“Yeah you were pretty good,” you remark.
He chuckles, now looking up and gazing over at you. You’ve taken off your flannel, showing off more skin than you usually do, and your cheeks are burning red. He’s lost count of how much the two of you’ve had so far, but he figures you must’ve had one hell of a lot more than him. “Well I had to balance us out somehow,” he deadpans, making you laugh.
“Yeah.. I sure sucked.”
You stay silent for a while then. Both listening to the music on the radio as you silently enjoy each other’s company. You’ve lost count of the amount of drinks too. But you know you’ve had too many to really care about it anymore. Your eyes lazily scan the crowd once more. The room doesn’t look as full as when you entered, but it’s still pretty crowded. There’s all sorts of people sitting together, laughing, drinking. For a moment you wonder how many of them are here just to forget something they’re running from for one night.
But Dean doesn’t give you to much time to wonder. “Okay, truth or dare.” He asks, interrupting your train of thought.
You roll your eyes, not entirely sure if he’s being serious or just messing with you. “Really? We’re doing this?” you respond, but you know you love these kind of things and you’ve already got your answer prepared.
“Truth or dare?” he simply repeats.
“Fine,” you say, rotating on your stool to face him and make it easier to play. “Dare.”
He smiles, the lines around his eyes crinkling, probably already knowing that’s what you were going to go for anyways. Yet he doesn’t seem to have a dare prepared because it takes him some time to come up with one. “I dare you.. to do three shots of Devil’s Spring Vodka.”
“That’s the best you can come up with?” you scoff, almost disappointed that’s all you have to do. Sure, it’s a drink that contains a lot of alcohol, but vodka just happens to be one of your specialities. And Dean’s well aware of it too. You order the shots anyways, waving a few bills in the air before you get someone’s attention, and knock them back easily, not even making a face. It’s a slight bluff though, the vodka is burning like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you let Dean notice. “Done,” you say, keeping your voice as normal as possible while trying not to cough. “Your turn.”
“Dare.”
“I dare you,” you start, wiggling your eyebrows as you let the suspense build a little. “To take five.”
Dean shakes his head in disapproval. “How creative,” he remarks, but ordering and drinking nonetheless.
The two of you continue your little game of truth or dare for a while, the hours slowly ticking by. As the bar gets emptier, you just get more drunk. Without even noticing you start slurring your words, the world appearing to be a whole lot funnier compared to when you entered the bar.
As you reach for yet another glass, the barman stops you. “I think you’ve had enough,” he states, taking the glass out of your hand and putting it behind the bar. “And if you keep on going like that it won’t be long before you’ll have to,” he tells Dean. “You’re done.”
“Aww you’re no fun,” you whine, pouting, but he’s already moved on to another customer.
Dean chuckles besides you, pulling some more bills out of his wallet to cover for both your drinks and throwing them on the bar before he pushes himself of his stool. “He’s right, let’s go,” he orders you.
You cross your arms in front of your chest, frowning. “I don’t wanna go,” you exaggerate, shaking your head and pouting as a little child would when he doesn’t get what he wants. You quickly stop shaking though because it’s making you nauseous.
“I know sweetheart,” he smiles, holding his hand out for you. “But we’re gonna. C’mon gimme your hand.”
Ultimately you give in, groaning once more to display your dismay about the situation before taking Dean’s hand and sliding off the stool. “Woah, world’s spinning,” you mumble as you stand up straight and your vision goes blurry.
“Yeah okay, we’re definitely going,” Dean states, voice clearer now he’s aware of just how far you’ve taken it. Thinking of it, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen you this far gone many times before. Especially not when you’re out in public. He’s still not sure just how much you’ve had, but it must be more than he’s had. As he guides you outside, one of his hands still holding yours while the other one is resting on your back to guide and support you, he makes a mental note not to let you play Medusaor anything even remotely like it again anytime soon.
The walk home takes longer than the way there, but Dean manages to get the two of you home safely, much to his relief. He’s had to catch you a couple times because you stumbled over your own feet, but aside from that you’d done okay. Physically at least. Your filter was long gone and you were talking about things he was sure you wouldn’t have had you been sober.
“Dean?” you ask as the both of you stand in the middle of the poorly lit library, Sam having let only a few lights on, still holding his hand.
“Yes sweetheart?” he answers, hardly able to repress a smile about your current state now you were home safely. He decides he actually kind of likes this look on you. Your hair falling loosely over your shoulders, shoulders that, for once, don’t seem tense but relaxed. He likes how you’re not worrying about everything, as he knows you usually do.
“I love you,” you say.
“Sure sweetheart,” he chuckles. “I know.” He plays it off, doubting you’ll even remember this in the morning, but he’d be lying if he said this didn’t make him feel some type of way. He’d been denying it to Sam every time Sam asked or made a comment about it, but he’d had a crush on you for months now. He was just too nervous to make a move on you, unsure you felt the same and not wanting to mess anything up between the two of you. Even though you’re drunk and he doubts you really mean it, hearing you say it was making his stomach go crazy.
“I mean it!” you pout, stomping your foot down.
“Okay, how about you tell me that again in the morning,” he says while walking towards your bedroom, softly pulling you along with him, making sure not to hurt you in the process.
“I will,” you say with such determination Dean almost lets himself believe it.
Upon entering your room you immediately let your body fall facedown onto your bed with a groan, causing Dean to chuckle.
“Sweetheart you can’t sleep in your clothes like that. At least put on your sweatpants,” he bargains, still smiling.
“I don’t wanna,” you whine, turning around so you’re laying on your back. “You do it.”
He hesitates for a second, wondering what would happen if Sam would walk in right when he’s pulling down your pants, seeing as your not exactly being quiet that wouldn’t be a surprise, or if you start asking questions about it tomorrow. But as you add a soft please he feels himself reaching for your sweatpants almost automatically, knowing exactly where you always put them, unable resist and wanting to help you.
So he changes your pants, covers you with a blanket and quickly runs out to get you a glass of water and some aspirin and puts it down on your nightstand. When he’s done you seem to have fallen asleep already, so he presses a featherlight kiss to your temple, careful not to wake you, and moves towards the door. Glancing over at you one more time, ready to turn off the lights and go to sleep as well, but the sound of your voice stops him.
“Please stay with me?” you ask in a whisper. “Please?”
He knows maybe he shouldn’t, not sure whether you’d regret asking it in the morning, but he can’t stop himself. Can’t stop himself from shutting your door, turning of the lights and walking back towards your bed to lay down besides you, quickly kicking off his shoes before he does so. “Of course sweetheart,” he whispers back, getting comfortable enough before shutting his eyes and letting himself drift off.
