Warnings: implied smut, maybe language because I can’t help it, otherwise straight fluff
A/N: this is for the lovely @jpadjackles double birthday challenge! I loved all the songs you chose for us, but this one will forever be one of my favorites! Hope you like what I did with it, and thank you for hosting!
A/N/N: Huge enormous thank you to my twin @deanssweetheart23 for listening to me whine, reading everything over and basically being the best damn support system a writer could ask for. Love ya, twin.
Request: Hi!!! I’ve never done this before so sorry if I sounds aggressive, but I’ve had this idea for a long time now and hoped you can bring it to life. The reader has been with the Winchesters for many years now and Dean has the worlds biggest crush on them. So being Dean he pushes her away by insulting her. She doesn’t really care and brushed them off with ease, but one day he calls her a slut/whore and she snaps due to her VERY abused past, and the brothers had known nothing of her true past?
Pairing: Dean x reader
Word Count: 1,600ish
Warnings: language (Drunk Dean being an ass pretty much)
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn’t think he can fall in love. But every time he thinks of the way he’s around her, the way she makes him smile even in the darkest of days, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s wrong.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 2315
Warnings: Hmmm. Like the tiniest bit of angst. Drinking as a coping mechanism (not healthy, but this is Dean we’re talking about, so, you know…). And fluff, guys. So much fluff.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @supernatural-jackles Jen’s SPN Birthday Challenge. My sweetest friend, Jen, happy birthday (even if I’m a few days early) and thank you so much for letting me participate. I loved working on this one.
My prompt for this was a gif that’s inserted into the fic. The story is very much based on Chris Stapleton’s Tennessee Whiskey (which is the most amazing song ever and has Dean’s name all over it *cough* the glorious Jensen Ackles has covered that song and it’s a dream*cough*)
Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 because she is the best best-friend and writing guru in the world (and because she kept me sane these past few weeks). You’re the best, twin.
Thank y’all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3
had always liked bars.
He liked the way
they looked, deep mahogany booths and age-speckled lights making him feel at
home in places that had seen their fair share of stories, the way that distinct
scent of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey clung to his clothes afterwards, like
it was a piece of him.
He liked the inverted
bottles that were pressed along the walls, the beer and the whiskey and the
bourbon, and the way it burnt down his throat and made him feel something, anything, on those nights he was far
too numb and far too broken to believe he was alive in the first place.
used to be Dean’s poison and fuel anyway; it cleansed the impure parts of him and kept
him going when he felt like there wasn’t much to keep going for.
And then she came along.
Y/N waltzed into
his life years ago, when she’d shakily shot the werewolf that had kidnapped her
right in the heart, and, ever since that day, she’d somehow managed to wove
herself deep into the fabric of his existence.
Summary: You don’t usually wake up peacefully, but today you do.
Mornings with the Winchesters were usually short. Waking up on the road, in the same position you had been when you fell asleep minus the jacket that now covered you. Waking up to the smell of fast food and Dean’s tired lopsided smile. Waking up when Dean lasted the music or Sam decided you would accompany him on an early morning run. But today, you woke up to silence. Sure, Dean was snoring in your ear and he was on his stomach half on top of you, but it was peaceful. One of his arms was thrown across your stomach, one of his legs tangled with yours. His head was on the pillow next to you, his cheek pressed into the white pillowcase, and the rest of his left side was covering you. You smiled, managing to worm an arm out from under his grip and run it through his hair. His light snoring ceased for a moment as he burrowed closer to try and find your warmth. his head nuzzled into your neck, his hand stroking up your side and resting there. You smiled softly, continuing to run your hand through his hair and massage his head slightly, even though it meant your arm was at an odd and uncomfortable angle. His breath fanned your neck and you could tell that he wasn’t asleep anymore, although he had yet to pen his eyes or say anything. “Dean,” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace by being too loud. He groaned in reply. “Guess what we have to do today?” You asked, and Dean shifted to press his face into your neck. “What?” He mumbled unintelligibly, his voice vibrating against your soft skin. “Absolutely nothing.” You smiled. “Don’t jinx it,” Dean said, picking his head off of your shoulder and finally opening his tired eyes. “Silly. Jinxes don’t exist.” “Neither do monsters,” Dean groaned out. You watched as Dean rolled off of you and onto his back by your side. You could finally feel your right side, and the cold bunker air hit your exposed skin. You rolled onto your side to face him. “Good morning,” You smiled. He rolled onto his side, his eyes closed in the hope that he could manage to fall asleep again. “Good morning,” he smiled back. A hum escaped your throat as you sat up to stretch, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. Dean made an unintelligible noise and reached out an arm, swiping at the air to try and grab you to pull you back. You laughed when he only grabbed air, and he grumbled, covering his face with his hand in reply. You stood above him, pressing a kiss to his temple before leaving the bed entirely and grabbing at clothing that was thrown haphazardly on the floor the night before. You opened the door, hearing the sheets rustling behind you a you exited but not bothering to turn around. The coffee machine was already on and brewing when you reached the kitchen. Sam sat at the counter, sipping at a smoothie and buried in a book. “Hey, Dean?” He began, not looking up from the newspaper, “I think I found us a-“ “Case?” You finished. Sam looked up, confused, before: “Oh, good morning Y/n.” You smiled and wished him a good morning also, before turning to get two mugs for coffee. “I’m heading out for a run now. Can you tell Dean I found us a case?” Sam asked, getting up to place his empty smoothie glass in the sink. You nodded, pouring the coffee from the kettle into the mugs. A hand placed itself on your hip. Without spending time to think, you had spun around and sent a tight fist straight towards your attacker. “Woah there,” Dean’s gravelly voice complained after expertly ducking your attack. You sighed, your heart sill racing and eyes still wide, before closing your eyes and resting your forehead against Dean’s chest. “You scared me,” you breathed out. A chuckle vibrated through his chest, a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. A kiss was pressed to your hairline, his hands grasping you closer and his scent intoxicating you. “Scared you?” he chuckled, the vibrations of his words echoing through his chest, “darling, I’m here to protect you.“