whiskey & soda

Club Soda and Whiskey

Characters:  Dean x reader, Sam

Summary:  Dean meets reader at a rock show.

Word Count:  3317

Warnings:  Language, sex, slightly angsty 

As aways, feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Tags are at the bottom. There is still room on my new Forever Tag list! Add yourself here

Originally posted by bringmesomepie56

Club Soda and Whiskey

Sipping your drink, you sit on the stool at the bar. As far as venues go, this one isn’t too bad. It smells of beer, but not in a funky, sweaty man and stale cigarette kind of way. It’s not smoky and the crowd seems cool. The band has played in far worse conditions. Like that time at that dive bar in LA. That was a night that you’d never forget. A biker gang had decided the middle of the set would be the perfect time for an all out brawl. One thing was for sure, there was never a dull moment to be had.

You fiddle with the slice of lime garnishing the rim of your glass while you watch the crowd. A tall, handsome man threads his way through the crowd. He’s rugged and sexy, broad shouldered. You notice by his gait that he’s bow-legged. He sidles up next to you at the bar and gives you a broad grin. Damn, he’s one good-looking son of a bitch. Probably a total douche, though. Most of the guys you meet in these clubs are.

Lifting a finger to the bartender, the man says smoothly, “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

You stifle a giggle as the bartender replies, “You want a club soda?”

The light catches his eyes as his lips turn up into a grin. They are a brilliant shade of green. He chuckles, “Scratch that. I’ll take a whiskey.”

The bartender nods and turns to pull a bottle off the glass shelf. Tall-and-handsome turns to you, extending his hand. “Hi there, I’m Dean.”

“Hey,” you respond, taking his hand and grasping firmly. Christ, he’s strong. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Have you seen this band before?” he asks casually.

“Yeah, I’ve been to all their shows.”

“Wow, that’s dedication! I’m just in town for a few days and thought I’d catch a show. I’d never heard of them until today.”

“Well, Dean, you are in for a treat,” you say, smiling up at him. Dean looks just past your shoulder and you turn to see the hulking form behind you. It’s Clint, head of security for the band. Clint is big and looks menacing, but he’s a teddy bear at heart. Clint leans and whispers in your ear and you nod in response.

“Sorry, Dean, that’s my cue. I have to get going”

“Wait…are you with the band?” Dean asks.

“Uh, yeah…I’m the tour manager,” you reply.

“Really? Awesome!”

You give him a wave and start to follow after Clint, before turning back to Dean. “Hey, what do you say to a backstage pass?”

“For real?” The expression on his face is like a kid in a candy store. “Man, I’d love that. But I’m here with my brother…”

“What’s his name?”

“Sam.”

“Okay, when you find your brother, go talk to Clint. He’ll be to the left of the stage. Give him your names and he’ll bring you backstage.”

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Okay this is also for @drawingnumberoneandtwo who I just told I didn’t have time to do this…


She should just keep on walking, the puddles splashing beneath her feet as she drags herself back from another bust of an interview. When’s your boss comin’ darling’? and I wanted a reporter, not his secretary. Still, Cat had interviewed the Senator’s secretary instead and got herself scoops enough to be in print every day for a week. Her landlord would appreciate it, if nothing else. 

It’s a grand apartment all the same, even if three floors down there’s a slightly seedy bar. Usually by the time Cat drags herself home from the Planet’s offices, the last call brawls are spilling out into the alley. She has one foot on the fire escape up to her place when she hears something new, something softer and sweeter than the blaring brass that usually comes out of the bar’s doors. 

It’s curiosity that leads her in, no matter what it did to her namesake. She slips between swaying men in their less-than-sharp suits, and the working girls looking to make their own rent before morning that are keeping them company with whiskey and sodas. 

“Who’s the dame with the pipes?” She asks, flagging down Susan at the bar. Cat’s usual is poured without her having to ask, the bourbon welcome after a long day. She takes off the fedora she swiped from Clark at lunch, shaking out her pin curls. “She’s better than you usually have.”

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Nichelle’s Dean Smut Masterlist

Dean x Reader Masterlist

The Smutty

Club Soda and Whiskey -  Dean meets reader at a rock show.

Isn’t A Dream -  No plot.  Literally zero.  This is straight up porn. With both Winchesters (no wincest).

It’s Gonna Be Like That -  Reader gets all worked up watching Dean in action.

The Mark -  Dean has the Mark. The reader can tell he’s holding back during sex and urges him to just let go.

An Impossible Choice -  Reader joins the Winchester’s to hunt. Her brother worries about her due to their reputations.  

Hexed - Dean and the reader are hexed.  Is is just a sexual curse or is there more to it?

Pacts -  The reader made a pact with Dean and Sam to meet up on a special date.  Do the brothers keep their word?

Make-Believe - Dean and reader pretend to be a couple to lure a vampire.

Complicated -  Dean gets a little jealous/turned on watching reader hustle pool.

Bad Idea -  Dean and reader have sex for the first time (together, not first time ever).

The One Where Everybody Finds Out -  Dean and reader haven’t told everyone about their relationship yet.

Broken - Demon!Dean comes looking for the reader.

Need -  Sex. Just…hot, fast, and hard. If you’re looking for plot, this isn’t the fic for you.

My Little Friend -  Dean wants to have some fun after he gets out of the shower.

The Bonfires of Beltane -  This is an AU set in the time of King Arthur. The reader loves Dean but is betrothed to Lancelot. Will they find a way to be together?

Dream A Little Dream -  Reader is a nurse in WW2. Sam is a patient, Dean comes to visit and meets reader.

Eyes On The Road -  Dean and the reader have some fun on the road.

Heathens -  Reader is a member of the Crowley’s court. What happens when he sends her on a special mission involving the Winchesters?

Stunning -  Sam and Reader pose as a couple for a hunt. How does Dean feel about it?

Simpler Times - Reader runs into childhood friends, Sam and Dean.

Someone - Reader wishes Dean would see her as more than a friend.

Mystery Box - Dean and reader enjoy their wedding night.

Pie - Two Pies, one reader, one Winchester.

Regret Part 1 - Reader runs into Dean, having not seen him since Sam went into the pit.

Regret Part 2

Cinnamon and Whiskey - Dean and reader have a tryst at the Roadhouse.

You Just Going To Stand There? - Dean helps reader with a home repair.

Magic Fingers - Prompt:  “Shit! I Uh, I think we broke it.”

Unspoken Rules - Sam is in love with the reader.  Does she feel the same way?

The Wedding - Dean and reader attend a wedding.  Reader gets a little handsy.

Play Time - Dean brings home a new toy.

Born To Run - Reader does what she does best when Dean gets too close, she runs.

Failure - Dean is doubting himself after a hunt gone wrong.  Reader tries to help him see his worth.

What Comes Next? - Dean and the reader are on a long road trip.

Bad Moon - Bartender!Reader meets Dean in her bar. 

What Was That?  - Dean discovers the reader is ticklish, which leads to a more surprising discovery.  

Bless Me Father - Father!Dean and reader have a little fun.

Birthday Blues - Dean forgets the reader’s birthday.

Roadhouse - The reader visits the Roadhouse with Sam and Dean, only to find out that Jo wants Dean and hates the reader.

For Science - Reader finds Sam and Dean arguing over who is better in bed. She offers to be the judge, for science…of course.

Love Me Some Pie - You live in the bunker with the brothers.  You and Dean have chemistry, but neither one of you has made the first move.

Dr. Winchester - You are a super clumsy hunter living in the bunker with the Winchesters. You harbor feelings for Dean, but you don’t think you’re his type.

Bloodlust  - You are a sexually frustrated hunter.  

Tune Up - Dean discovers that you know how to tune up your car, it’s a major turn on for him.

Mine - Dom!Dean, basically just porn.

Forgive Me - Dean broke your heart. Sam calls you to help with a case. Can you handle seeing Dean again?

House Hunting - House “hunting” with Dean.

Ride A Winchester - Prompt: Reverse Cowgirl

Can’t Stay Long - Dean shows up after a long time away from the reader.

Rising to the Challenge - Angry, angry sex.

Just Drive - Dean wants to take a break from research to catch a movie. He convinces the reader to go with him.

The Bet - The reader and Dean place a bet to see who can go the longest without masturbating.

Pieces of His Heart - The reader asks something of Dean and he regrets refusing her.

anonymous asked:

(Weecest) John slowly realizes that Sam and Dean are fucking. Maybe other hunters hint at it, or he starts noticing little things between them. Eventually he catches them in some kind of act (Dean fucking Sam's mouth, sex, etc...) but they don't notice and John just walks away. Thank you ily

So, I apologize greatly because I’m on mobile and my internet is so crappy. And ily too!

“Johnny boy, you haven’t noticed,” the witch chided him as she walked back and forth in the warehouse.

John held the gun steady, right at that bitches head. He’s not all that worried about her. So, he thinks he can entertain her a little. The boys are most likely asleep by now at three a.m.

“Haven’t noticed what?” He sighs.

She smiles like the evil thing she is as she turns on her heels to leer at him, it makes his skin want to crawl off.

“Your two boys? Sammy and De? You don’t see it between them?” She sneers, red lips twisting.

John feels familiarity prick at his brain, like he knows what shes getting at.

“Shut it,” he snaps and puts a bullet right between her eyes.

When he settles at Pastor Jim’s a few nights later after another hunt, he’s being told the same thing.

“Its just not right,” Jim says.

Dean had just had Sam in his lap when he had walked in, brushing fingers through his hair. They both waved to him bleary eyed, but neither moved. If anything, Sam just snuggled in closer to his brother.

“What do you mean?” John asks.
“Do you think that Dean might have talked Sam into it? Maybe he began touching him first–”

John just takes his friend by the throat and warns him.

“There ain’t nothing there. And my boy would never molest his younger brother, ever. I tell him to take care of Sammy everyday,” John whispers.

“Maybe too much care,” Jim croaks.

He leaves there the next morning, leaving the pastor with a black eye and busted lip.

Sam and Dean manage to hold hands loosely in the car.



At the Roadhouse, Ellen gives Dean a shot of vodka and John some whiskey. Sam gets a soda, happy to be sober.

“What did you two boys do while I was gone? Did you drive Ellen crazy?” John asks calmly.

Dean’s mouth gapes open at first, eyes going wide.

“We–uh. We didn’t do much of anything,” Dean finishes.

“Really?” John questions, finishing off his glass as he eyes Sam’s neck.

There are purple marks in the shape and pattern of fingers. They span all around his throat and John doesn’t ask. Sam is trying to hide it all under a black hoodie, but he’s John’s boy and he’d notice if Sam looked like he got choked up real good.

“Bundle up tight, baby boy,” Dean grumbles, pulling at the zipper of Sam’s hoodie and pulling it tighter.

Sam is fifteen, still pretty small for his age but he’s growing.

“I’m not a baby,” Sam murmurs and blushes as Dean swipes a piece of hair gently behind his ear.

John has never seen Dean handle something or someone with such care. He’s sure that even his oldest sons hands from when he was just a toddler had ever touched his own mother with so much kindness and love.

“I know, I know you’re not. Still my job,” Dean nods, his rough hand massaging at Sam’s neck.

He looks forward and sees that Ellen is watching them too. He should tell her to stop staring at them, she doesn’t know anything about them. She can’t judge.

“You both go get washed up,” John ordered.

Dean only nodded and proceeded to drag Sam off the barstool and into the back.

“Stop lookin’ at ‘em like that,” he snaps at Ellen.

The woman eyes him with observance. He could she what he was thinking and he didn’t really want to talk about it.

“You know there might be something weird going on there?” She speaks low and leans close to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ellen,” John looks around the crowded place, all the hunters seem to be packed into here tonight.

“Really? Dean has never looked at any girl like that in his entire life! And Sam? Never seen the boy so at ease unless Dean is there with him. You can see it in the way they touch each other!” Ellen hisses as a man passes directly behind John.

“So they find comfort in one another’s presence! They should be able to, all they’ve got is each other,” John’s voice is getting angrier and angrier, leaning forward to make his point clear.

“Sure, you’ve heard this point on more than one occasion. Those boys ain’t up to no good with one another,” Ellen keeps on.

“Enough! If they’re fuckin’ each other, I have yet to see it. Lets keep it that fucking way,” he spits angrily, catching the attention of others.

He gets up, sliding the stool backwards loudly and storms off towards the back.

He had been told by Bobby, Ellen, Pastor Jim, and many others. He didn’t see anything, he doesn’t want to.

“Dean,” the young boy cries softly.

The grimy floor digs into his jeans as he leans forward on his knees.

“Open up wide, Sammy,” Deans voice a growl, his cock hard as it brushes against his brothers pink lips.

His precome wets them and he aches to be deep inside his brothers throat.

Sam smirks a little as his tongue flicks out to coat the tip in saliva, loving the way the hard length twitches in excitement. Dean grips him hard by the hair and yanks him forward.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease or I swear when we’re alone later you won’t get nothin’” Dean hisses, gripping the base of his dick to position it against those pouty lips.

Sam giggles mischeviously, but obeys his brother, taking him into his mouth. He makes his lips go tight as he bobs upward and lax as he sinks back down.

Sam listens to the noise out front where a bunch of hunters are probably talking about all the pussy they want or their last hunt.

He’s content with having his throat filled with a thick cock, Deans thick cock, and having tears roll down his face and saliva dripping down his chin as he sucks hard, working to have his mouth filled with cum.

“Relax,” Dean whispers, getting another good grip on Sam’s floppy hair.

Sam does as he told and tilts his face up to look at his big brother. Dean likes it when he can see his teary eyes and stretched mouth.

“That’s my good boy,” Deans voice cracks as he begins to thrust forward, balls hitting his brothers chin with wet slaps.

His dick feels so good stuffed inside that little throat, being swallowed and gagged around. Sam’s whispers and moans being released when he pulls out and slaps his cock against puffy lips, then pushing right back inside.

Sam’s hands come up to hold Deans hips as his mouth gets crammed full and his throat gets fucked deep.

“Yeah, like getting your pretty mouth stuffed. Sweet little Sammy likes being on his knees for big brother, right?” Dean huffs out, hips snapping forward roughly.

He knows Sam can take it, he’s done it before. He also knows to keep quiet in case someone passes by and hears them. The rush that someone could pass by and see them is delicious as his hips hump forward faster, his breath erratic.

“Oh God, Sam. You feel so fuckin’ good choking on my dick, baby,” Dean growls.


What they both haven’t noticed is John standing at those swinging doors, watching them through the dirty, square windows. John can’t believe his eyes.

His little boy on his knees getting his face fucked by his older brother. But little moans escape the door to let him know Sam is enjoying every second of it.

Dean can’t seem to slow down, thrusts hard and vicious to get as deep as he can, gripping Sams hair tightly.

He doesn’t expect Dean to be whispering words of encouragement, brushing his thumb along Sam’s jaw, stretched wide. They maintain eye contact as much as possible, Sam holding onto Deans hips, pulling him forward from time to time.


He hears Sam whine, fat tears running down his face.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m 'bout to give it to you right now. Want my load in that sweet mouth so bad, don’t you?” Dean tries to whisper, tries to keep control.

Sam is only fifteen and he moans like a boy his age shouldn’t, like a fucking whore.

Dean gives a choked cry a couple seconds later, pulling out till only the tip is inside Sam’s open mouth and spurting his release onto his brothers tongue.

John watches as Dean curls over and finishes inside his brothers mouth. Sam makes a show of moaning and swallowing, whispering to Dean about how good his load tasted as he put his brother back into his jeans.

John walks away as they begin to kiss softly, Dean murmuring lovingly to Sam.


Ellen watches him walk away, already having an idea of what he’s seen.

well they say I gotta habit that I’m just a drug addict and I’ll never be nothing more

well they can just have it, I don’t care if I’m damaged, honestly I just think I’m bored

and alcohol is just a flavor that I wanna try and savor every second that I’m on tour

I’m gonna do what I want, I don’t care if it’s not what you want anymore

so now I’m drinkin’ coca cola with some whiskey and a soda I’ve been sippin’ since 10am

and every morning I wake up I just wanna give up but I guess I gotta deal with it

oh my god, it’s like boo fucking hoo, it’s just all about you, and man you’re so sensitive

and do you really think that I wanna be that guy that dies without any friends

but don’t go so sentimental now, I’ve got my whole life to figure it out, I’m gettin older and I’m freakin out cuz I got nothing to show and I’m still fucking broke

and now I’m one week sober and I’m still hungover and maybe I should take a break

and I think I need help cuz I’m playing with myself at least three times a day

and what’s the big fucking deal if I don’t wanna feel, but I got some reservations about rehabilitation

cuz I drink ‘til I’m mad
and I love being sad
oh my god I’m becoming my dad

Pomegranate Whiskey Sour

ice

1 whole lemon, plus additional for slices

2 tsp sugar

2 tbsp pomegranate juice

2 shots Scotch whiskey

12 oz sprite

Add ice cubes to 2 old fashioned glasses. Cut lemon in half, juice each half and pour into glasses. Add 1 tsp sugar, 1 tbsp pomegranate juice, and one shot Scotch to each glass. Top with soda, stirring well. Garnish with lemon slices.

Smoke & Whiskey

Summary: Unspoken feelings manifest in a steamy night in the bunker. .

Prompt: Whatever doesn’t kill me had better start running.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2445
Warnings: Smoking, drinking. Some of the smuttiest smut I have ever written. Use protection, make good choices.

A/N: This started when I was drunk one night, then I got smoker!Dean feels. So I drank some more and finished it last night. For the record, smoking can be hazardous to your health, and it’s best to not even start. I’m not a smoker but I used to be, and still have the occasional social cigarette or five when I’ve been drinking. That should cover all the FAQ’s. 

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A Soulmate’s Scrawl

@b0nely… you prompted this so, thank you :) x

AO3 link


2pm: car service


That’s the first message Dean sees scrawled on the inside of his wrist.


It’s the oddest feeling: it’s like having the lightest of feathers stroked over his skin to the point of making it itch a little. That, or he’s developed a slight allergy to his washing detergent overnight.


He’s scratching at it absently and unthinkingly for half the morning before he even really looks, and then it’s only because his hands are filthy from a morning of high schoolers let loose on paint and easels like they’re actual kindergärtners, and it’s time for lunch.

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Tu Vuo Fa L'Americano
Renato Carosone
Tu Vuo Fa L'Americano

You wear pants showing a famous brand
You wear a hat with the visor turned up
Trotting along Toleto’s streets
Like a bully trying to show off

You’d like to be an American, ‘merican, 'merican
Listen here, who’s asking you to?
You want to be trendy
But when you drink “whiskey w/ soda”
You only end up sick

You dance the rock 'n’ roll
You play the baseball
But where did you find the money to buy Camel cigarettes?
In your mummy’s handbag!

You’re acting all American, 'merican, 'merican
But you were born in Italy!
Listen here, there’s nothing you can do
OK, Neapolitan?

You’d like to be an American
You’d like to be an American

How can your loved ones understand?
If you’re speaking half-americano?
When you are making love under the moon
How come you say “I love you”?


DisclaimerAll copyrights are reserved by Renato Carosone. I do not own anything and the purpose of this track (which was found on the web, publicly) is merely for entertainment and not for monetizing or usurping reputation from the artist.

Pilot

In 2001, after September 11th, I was trying to build a decorative wooden box/cabinet thing, using just hand tools. I’d started it several days before the events, and I was determined to finish, regardless. Predictably, it was a disaster; the box had no structural integrity, and the slip of a chisel left me with a deep wound (now a scar) at the base of my left palm. Weeks later, a good friend and I were commiserating about our general incompetence, right in that aftermath, and he said, “That’s the public art, the memorial we need: just a huge pile of things people were trying to do.” In that spirit, here’s a piece I started a week or so prior to last Tuesday. It was intended to be short and ultimately sweet (similar in feel to Hotel). But like that futile box, it has no structural integrity; you’ll no doubt get an idea of how it’s meant to work, but it just doesn’t. It lurches around, overwritten, underwritten… I decided to finish it (or “finish” it) anyway, because: here is what I was trying to do. I haven’t forgotten about other stories, but it seemed better to take it out on this instead. Three parts: this today, second tomorrow, third on Wednesday. P.S. This story, despite its being about a pilot, has nothing to do with Sept. 11. I’m just marking a similarity in my own emotional state.

Pilot

“Double whiskey and soda.”

The words are clipped and low. Helena Wells is not surprised by that drink order, for the person issuing it is a pilot. That the whiskey-and-soda pilot is in this case a woman is slightly unusual, but most people, Helena has noted in her relatively short career thus far as a bartender, do drink according to position, not gender. She places an ice cube in a tumbler, fills the tumbler with the bar’s well bourbon, adds a brief spray of soda, and places it in front of the pilot, whose eyes have followed Helena as she assembled the drink. Her gaze now meets Helena’s in cool appraisal.

Helena has not seen this pilot before. She’s seen this look, however; all pilots seem to know it and use it. Flight attendants do not. Flight attendants deploy smiles that do not reach their eyes.

Helena is becoming familiar with the looks proffered by flight attendants and pilots because the establishment whose bar she began to tend not long ago is located near both an airport and a hotel where flight crews are customarily housed. The hotel does not have a bar of its own, a fact for which Helena is grateful: she is also becoming familiar with the fact that people who travel for a living tend to tip well.

This pilot bears out that tendency: she finishes her drink, drops a ten and two fives on the bar. The ice cube remains, largely unmelted, in the glass. She says, “Thanks.” Then she stands and walks away, away and out, nodding to a flight attendant as she leaves.

She’s tall, this pilot.

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Simple Accidents (Pt 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language

Word Count: 2,078

A/N: Next chapter will be longer than normal because it’s a date night chapter! Just a heads up!

All you remembered when Jensen woke you was the nothingness that had filled your dream. It was nice, you kinda missed it. Getting away from everything had been as relaxing and revitalizing as a spa day.

When Cliff drove off with a wave, Jensen helped you into the front set of his car. If you weren’t so pissed, you might’ve been excited to be in his car. He slipped on black sunglasses, in a highly attractive way, you thought, once he sunk into the driver’s seat. Instead of smiling at him and his sexiness, you rolled your eyes to yourself and looked away, irritated by how much your heart was fluttering.

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