Title: Tennesee Whiskey
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
Dean Winchester 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.
Alcohol 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.
He didn’t even notice at first.