Tag Dean

The Pain of Return

Aebli Leave a comment

There’s a case in your hometown, but when you arrive nothing looks the same.

Pairing: None

Warnings: Angst, sense of lost time, childhood stolen angst, plot without point, fluffy ending (oops)

Word Count: 1965

Note: I wrote this around my visit to my former hometown this weekend, but I’ve tried to leave it vague and open for other towns. Happy (or un-happy) SPN Angst Day!

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Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and stretched. Sam and Dean were in the front of Baby talking low about the case.

The case. The one in your childhood hometown.

You shot up, looking out the windows for anything familiar.

“We’re still a few miles from the state line,” Dean piped up. “You haven’t missed it.

“Ah, but have we passed the peach butt yet?” You giggled as the both looked back at you; Dean through the mirror and Sam turning sharply in his seat. “I guess not.”

“The what?” Sam asked.

“The Peach Butt. I think it’s a water tower, or used to be, but its painted like a giant peach. Even has a leaf and the little nob at the bottom. The area is known for their fruit. And fireworks. But mostly the giant peach. It’ll mean I’m almost home.”

The peach crested over the hill a little while later. Both of the boys were amused at the water tower and you taking pictures with your phone. Almost fifteen years had passed since you last saw it, when your family moved south, and it still looked just as freshly painted and bright as ever. Then the highway dipped, and the peach disappeared from sight. Within another twenty minutes, the exits for your childhood county zoomed into view.

But as Dean pulled up the ramp, everything went wrong.

There was the Waffle House, and the hotel, and the Cracker Barrel. Gone was the family-run Italian restaurant that had the best cannoli’s in the world and the little pet shop where you got your first fish. There were over twenty new business squeezed into a strip mall over what used to be the park.

“Where do I turn?” Dean asked, breaking through the rising panic in your chest.

“There should be a ‘Scott Road’ on your left. That will take you through a small town before we get to ‘Hickory Grove Road’ and the straight shot to the case.”

Sam pointed the sign out to Dean. Memories stuttered in your mind as the trees that used to grow there were replaced by a budding neighborhood, many still under construction. After a few minutes, Dean slowed Baby to a stop. The road came to a dead end with a bright orange construction sign. You stayed silent as Sam typed the address into his GPS and shared it with Dean as he turned Baby around.

Your heart throbbed in your chest. Heavy, chest-rattling thumps that felt like they were pushing molasses through your veins. Air shuddered out of your lungs in short bursts and long silent sighs. Sam kept glancing back at you. Instead of looking back at him, you watched the town roll by your window different in almost every way. Just when you thought you were completely lost, a landmark would roll by and you knew where you were.

When had everything changed?

The landmarks became more frequent as Dean drove further out of the town and into the country. Out there, you saw more boarded up windows and crumbling buildings than replacements. Then things got really familiar.

“Dean, stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop the car. Let me drive.”

You slid into the front seat next to him at the next red light. It was cramped with all three of you shoulder to shoulder but you weren’t focused on that at the moment.

At the salon go straight. Pass the soccer field. Pass the rusted sculptures. Follow the curve to the church. Turn left on the gravel road.

“Where is it?” you mumbled under your breath. Baby jumped and tilted over the gravel. Dean growled as pebbles bounced off the doors. With a curse, you made a sudden U-turn in some random driveway that wasn’t there before. “Where is it!” you shouted, slapping your hand against the wheel.

“Where’s what?” Sam looked at his phone and the road. “There’s nothing back here.”

“That’s the problem,” you muttered. Dean cursed as you slammed on the breaks. Then you were off like a shot.

“Y/N! Wait!” Dean moved Baby to one side of the road, then followed you with Sam to the open field. When they caught up you were sitting in a tree looking over the expanse of green. “What are you doing? What were you looking for?” Dean demanded.

“My house.” Your voice was soft but hoarse. “It was right here. I used to climb this tree all the time. Nearly broke my arm dozens of times.” You shifted against the bark. The swell in the limbs where you now sat was smaller than you remembered. The whole thing felt lower to the ground. “Why is my tree here but not my house?” The question hung in the air unanswered.

Sam checked his watch and nudged Dean, who nodded back.

“Y/N, we have to get to the crime scene. We’ll come back. I promise.”

You nodded. But you didn’t move. Not until the green of the field was replaced with the green of Dean’s eyes. You never thought how similar they would be.

“Sweetheart, we have to go.” He took you hand and gently tugged on it till you hoped off the tree.

You were silent as Dean pulled up to another new neighborhood. The show house was surrounded in police tape still, and a news crew stood out front.

“I thought everything happened… three days ago?” Sam asked.

“I did too.” Dean straightened his tie and led the march over. He was the first to duck under the tape after you all showed your fake badges. Sam broke off to find the commanding officer, and Dean wandered over to listen to the news crew. That left you standing alone. You usually went to check out the scene first, but your feet wouldn’t move.

“Y/N?” A voice said behind you. “Y/N Y/L/N?” You turned around and saw an aged version of a familiar face.

“Mz. Cindi?” You couldn’t help but let a smile break out over your face. She used to baby-sit you when your parents wanted a night out. You ducked back under the tape to give her a hug.

“Oh sweetie, it’s so good to see you! Let me look at you.” She held you at arm length but still had to tilt up her head to look at you. You were taller than her in sixth grade. “A FBI agent. I’m so proud of you. Obviously, this terrible business brings you to town, but I’m sure you’ve heard enough of that already. How’s the family?”

“Oh, uh. My parents are…” Murdered. “…they died.” Vampires. “Car accident. I was away at college.” I was home. The vamps kidnapped me and bled me for days. “Other than that, I’ve been all right.”

“My poor child.” She wrapped her short arms around your waist, then jumped back with a start. “Oh goodness. Did you drive by…”

“My house, or lack of? Yeah. What happened?”

“The family living there didn’t keep it as well as your parents. It became mold infested; poisoned the people living there. The mailman saw their bodies through the window. Just terrible. It had to come down, so the city had the volunteer fire department burn it down for practice. That was seven years ago. But most of the trees are still there.”

Seven years. Odd.

“Now this house was infested with hornets. The town seems intent on dying before the corporations can get out here. Oh, who’s your tall drink of water?”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Dean walking over. “Dean? He’s my partner. Well, one of them. The other one is talking to the chief.”

“Ah,” she whispered knowingly, “but which one is yours?” You rolled your eyes as she giggled.

“Dean, this is Mz. Cindi. She used to watch after me.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Hate to steal Y/N away from you, but we need her inside.” He walked away after you nodded.

Mz. Cindi gave your hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry about the change dear. It’s the way of the world. And there’s always a little pain when you go back home and it doesn’t look the same as before. But after you and your boys solve this, don’t wait another fifteen years to show up. There are still good people around, and we miss you. You’ll have to tell us about the world some time since you’re one of the few that made it out.”

“I’ll do that. Is your number the same?”

“Hasn’t changed in over thirty years. I’ll talk to you later, sweetie.” She gave you one last hug, then let you walk back to the house.

Dean started filling you in on the case. The surviving son came back and got hit by a second wave of hornets. But his voice sounded far away.

Change is the way of the world.

“Y/N!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

You passed on the information about your old house after Sam joined you two inside. The timing was too perfect a number. Sam did research, and Dean cleaned his guns. You walked out to the train tracks and reminded walking the rails with your friends after school. And wondered whether any of them had moved out too. There was still a lump in your throat when Dean called you with the plan. You swallowed it and got to work. Bones to salt and burn. Ghost of the town legend to put to rest. It should have felt good, saving everyone. It should have felt like the world started turning again.

Instead, it felt like it was heavier on your shoulders.

No other families would be hurt. No more children would wake up one morning and find their family dead. Not like you had. But it didn’t feel like enough. All the lives you saved couldn’t get back the memories corrupted by the last few days. They couldn’t fix how lost you felt in a town that you used to know so well. You were almost welcomed leaving at this point.

“Do you want to get out and take pictures?” Dean broke through your brooding. He hissed as gravel bounced of the car again as he pulled to a stop in front of the field.

“Not really. Let’s just go home.” You turned your head to face inside the car.

Sam cleared his throat. “Y/N, hate to be that guy, but you know you’ll regret it. Come on.” His door creaked and his shoes made the gravel crunch. Your side of the car was shadowed before he opened your door. “Come on. I’ll take the pictures if you won’t.”

You snorted with a grin. “No, you’ll take them wrong.” Sam stepped out of the way and you stepped out. You took a deep breath before taking that last step between gravel and grass. If you’d left the shutter sound on, your phone would have driven Dean crazy. The dozens of pictures were silent instead.

Sam’s hand enveloped yours. “Go sit where you were yesterday.” He crouched a little and took your picture as you sat in your spot. “Dean, go away!” he grumbled. Dean shot back a determined “no” and placed his warm hands on your shoulders before tickling your neck. He laughed openly as you squealed.

“Come over here, moose-man. And bring your selfie-stick arms.” You giggled as Sam shot you a disgruntled look, but he posed and smiled all the same.

“I bet I can race you to the top of this tree,” Dean said several pictures later.

“Honey, you couldn’t make it half-way.” You gave him a shove that sent him sprawling into the grass, then climbed as fast as you could before Dean could catch up to you.

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Bullets and Cream

Aebli Leave a comment

Agent Dean Winchester and Y/N celebrate a completed mission with a steamy night in.

Pairing: 007Agent!Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Action violence, SMUT, blindfold, slight Dom!Dean, little bit of spanking, oral (both receiving)

Word Count: 1700

Note: Whew. After that season finale, I needed a happy Dean. We all do. Please let me know how you like this by commenting, liking, or reblogging, or all three!

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He rolled as the wood paneling exploded above his shoulder. Half an inch lower and Dean wouldn’t have a shoulder.

Dean Winchester. 007. Agent.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact you were working with him.

“Y/N, it’s getting tight in here. Type faster.”

“Trying.” Your fingers flew across the keys as you watched the green script appear on the screen.

In and out, he said. Hack an email. Simple, he said. 007 said a lot of things.

“You ready, Q?” you asked the coms.

Sam’s voice crackled in your ear, “send it through.”

You tapped the enter key and the text spiraled down into the secure link you coded in.

“Got it. Now get out of there.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean echoed with you. He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the side exit. The bookshelf slid shut behind you just as the enemy operatives rushed the room. You could hear them scrambling to find the latch as Dean pulled you out into the night.

At the safe house, Dean’s keys clattered into the alcove bowl then he took your stealth coat. You smirked at him as you unlaced your boots and he shed his mission gear.

“I don’t see how you get around so conspicuously in that car, Winchester.” The Impala was beautiful, but it seemed to attract a lot of eyes rolling through town.

“Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight, sweetheart.”

Both of you flopped onto the couch and let out heavy sighs. You were content to close your eyes and breath slowly till maybe you fell asleep. Forget the coms on the coffee table and leave the paperwork till morning. Dean’s fingers had another plan. You grinned as they feathered up your bare arm.

“Not back for five minutes and you’re already trying to seduce me.” The couch’s fabric was cool on your face as you turned to look at him. His lips parted as his tongue darted out to wet them. Freckles danced across his face and his afternoon stubble coming in.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing.” You averted your gaze to the window as rain began to beat against it. “What are you thinking about?”

“Something incredibly sinful.”

Your eyes darted to his and found them lust-blown. The mixture of the storm outside and your quickened blood pounded in your ears as your breath began to come out in short bursts. Your skin prickled with a sudden chill, even as you felt a rush of warmth all over. After a shuddered breath, you leaned close to him and put your hand on his chest.

“Show me.”

You were expecting him to push you into the pillows of the couch. You were expecting his lips to latch onto yours. His hands everywhere. Clothing to be removed hastily. But none of that happened.

Instead, he reached up and loosened his tie before pulling it from around his neck.

“Do you trust me?”

Agent instincts kicked in. Dark rumors rushed in. You considered telling him no. But knowing him, if he wanted you dead, you would be. Blindfolded or not.

“Yes.”

Dean helped you stand and held the tie over your eyes without tying it. With one hand in yours, he led you through the safehouse, murmuring commands so you wouldn’t stub your toes. Light stopped seeping in over the edges of the tie. There was a moment where you couldn’t sense anything except his hand holding the tie behind your head, then he let it drop.

“I requested it specially in hopes that the mission would end well,” he said.

In front of you was a low four-post bed draped with dark, soft fabric. The cloth swayed in the breeze coming in through the seemingly open windows. Safe house smoke and mirrors, but effective. You walked to one corner, swaying your hips a little more than usual. It was unnecessary as Dean caught your wrist in his tie before you got too far.

“So, it’s going to be one of those nights, is it?” you asked cheekily. Dean hummed in agreement and brought your wrists together behind you around the post, securing them with his tie. He breathed hot air over your lips and backed away. You watched hungrily as he shed his holster and his shirt. You hoped he would let you lick your way up that soft stomach one day. Those thoughts changed as he pulled his belt out in one sweep. Dean let his pants fall and stepped closer to you clad in only his straining compression shorts.

Electric shocks coursed through you as he finally pressed his mouth against yours. It was rough. Starved. More intense without the option to touch him. You whimpered as his evening stubble scratched your cheek while he nibbled on your ear. His hands squeezed your hips before reached back to cup your ass. He pulled you closer, pressing his hardening length into your clothed stomach.

“What if I said no coming till I said so tonight?”

You pulled away from him with a groan and a pout. “But I did everything right.”

“You were a little slow with the coding.”

“Next time you can code, and I’ll shoot the bad guys…” you gasped and rested your head on his chest as he slapped your ass. When you caught your breath, you looked up to see his arched eyebrow. He rubbed the ache away but kept staring at you till you made a decision. Either way, you were going to have a good night. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. If your arms start to hurt, let me know, and we’ll figure something else out.”

He pushed you down till you were eye-level with his pelvis. He worked his thumbs inside the hem of the shorts and inched them down till his cock sprang forth.

You didn’t wait for a command. The salty taste of his precum made you hum around his head. Dean stifled a groan as you began to bob up and down his length, taking him deeper little by little. With a final deep breath, you pushed as far as you could go before your gag reflex would take over. Dean braced one hand on the post and the other behind your head. He gave a shout as you alternated sucking and hollowing your cheeks around him. His hips jerked, following your mouth as you backed off, running your tongue along his vein. You pulled off with a pop and a wink. Before you could move to start again, Dean pulled you to your feet.

“Enough.” He winked back. “My turn.”

With a tug, your wrists were released. He rubbed the ache out of your shoulders and wrists while peppering kisses along your jawline. His hands rubbed their way to your chest and down your front, pulling the fabric up and over your head before unclasping your bra. Your own hands worked to get off the stealth pants, but they hugged your thighs too much for you to remove them by yourself. You fell with a giggle onto the bed as Dean pushed you down. He tugged on them and your panties till he could throw them on the floor, then pulled you by your ankles to the edge of the bed. He ran a finger up your slit, making you shiver. You watched as he licked away the slick.

He leaned over you and whispered in your ear, “Remember, don’t come.” Dean tossed you further up the bed before following you. He laid in front of your parted legs, grinning like a proud panther. You weren’t sure if you were the cream or the canary. Dean gave a delighted hum as he ran his tongue up your slit.

Cream then.

Your hips bucked as Dean began to lap and suck and pull every moan from your lips. He splayed a warm hand over your abdomen, pinning you into the sheets. His teeth grazed your clit and you out let out a mangled cry. A finger began to work in and out of you as he continued to suck and kiss your clit.

Release was right there. You could feel it building.

Dean laughed into your heat before pulling away. Your legs quaked as he crawled up your body, planting open-mouthed kisses up your stomach and over your breasts and up the side of your throat. You were so sensitive you could feel him throbbing against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered shut as you panted.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Dean tilted your chin up as you forced your eyes open. “Can you hang on a little longer?”

“Yes,” you croaked.

You gasped as Dean began to work himself into you an inch at a time. Again, he pinned you down, keeping you from speeding up the process. You both gave a soft ‘umpf’ as he bottomed out. Your walls contracted around him, making him shiver and growl.

Then he let loose.

Breathless gasping gave way to cries of pleasure as Dean thundered into you. The earlier spiral that had faded into a dull ache came back in full force. You focused on how tight he was holding your hips to keep from coming. There wasn’t air enough to beg.

“Come, Y/N,” Dean grunted at last, “come for me.”

He twisted his hips till your cries heightened in pitch. You clawed at his shoulders as he continued to ram your g-spot. With a final guttural cry, your muscles relaxed throughout your body. You were flying, soaring. Dean kept going till his grunts faltered with his hips. His hot cum coated your walls, jolting another spasm through them again.

The bed was suddenly cold when Dean got up. He came back with a towel to clean you up, then again with a glass of water. You could barely keep your eyes open to drink.

“Here’s to another mission well done, 007.”

Dean leaned in to nuzzle your noses together. “And here’s to many more celebrations, Agent Y/L/N.”

He guided you under the sheets and wriggled close till your back was flush with his chest.

The morning would bring another mission, but for tonight, Dean “007” Winchester was all yours.

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@19mmallory @aimee-grace-01 @ashmonet @bits-n-bowz @bringmesomepie56  @catackles16 @cookie-dough-lova @dancingalone21 @docharleythegeekqueen @exp762 @gabbyrogers094 @helloenricanie @idontknow-canyou @its–killing–me @jpadjackles @justtryingtogosomewhere @kaemarie23 @kittenofdoomage @lauriz67 @livelovebands123 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @mein1928 @millie67 @mylostsoul28 @mysteriouslyme81 @peaceloveandplumbots @sassy-losechester @sissysalvatore @supernatural-jackles @temprence-the-real-satan @thedeanwinchesterx @theriumking @tinyium @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @valerieshubin @vutdidyousay @vvinch3st3r @windeango67 @jensenandjaredintheimpala @smandrews3 @tamtamlov 

A Sunbeam Morning

Aebli Leave a comment

deepdisireslonging:

A lovely wake-up call for Dean.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Hand job, oral (male receiving, implied female receiving) implied later smut

Word Count: 508

Note: Happy Smut Appreciation Day! At first, I wasn’t going to write anything since I’ve planned another Dean post to come out later this week, but then this hit me. I highly recommend reading while listening to this Ambient Mixer.

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You woke as Dean shifted next to you. He continued to snore lightly, something that made you smile. He always denied that he snored.

Morning was starting to break through the curtains, blinding the spot over your pillow. You curled into his chest, hoping it would block out enough of the light. It was dark, but also close enough for you to feel other things in greater detail. Like the stiffness presently pressed into your stomach. You suppressed a giggle as he draped an arm over you, keeping you from moving too much.

You could have fun with this.

Keep reading

Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day!

Consequences: Part 2 – Caution

Aebli Leave a comment
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Y/N meets Dean for a date after his semi-finals win, after some convincing. Dean is warned about what happens to those who fight the plan.

Characters: Y/N, Jo, Claire, Dean, Bobby, Uriel, Raphael

Warnings: threats of violence, past relationship abuse trigger (separate from the first warning)

Word Count: 2500-ish

Note: This one wrote a lot quicker than the last installment, which you can read here: Part 1 – Ringside. Please let me know how you like, or why not, and any guesses as to how it’s gonna go. If you like my style, my requests are open! Be on the look-out for a few coming out soon. Now, enjoy…

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“You have to go!” Claire looked at Y/N, incredulous that her roommate didn’t want to show up to her date. “He’s going to the semi-finals… he’s hot! Why don’t you want to go?”

“It was an off-hand promise,” Y/N groaned, sinking onto the couch. “I didn’t know he was a… the boxer. I thought he was just some guy trying to get a date. Then in the hype from the fight, we set a place and time. I’m thinking clearly now.”

“No, you’re not,” Jo said. She hung a series of dresses on the door. “You’re panicking like every girl does before a date.”

“But you know what happened the last time I did something like this…”

“This is a different guy.” “A new start,” they said, overlapping one another.

Y/N looked back a forth between Jo and Claire. They were going to make her go, even if it meant they had to drag her there. A new start. “Fine, I’ll go.” She stopped their triumphant grins by pointing at the dresses. “I don’t know why you brought all those out; the one I wore to the fight will be fine.”

“Oh sweetie,” Jo said, dragging Y/N to her feet, “you are going to look perfect for tonight.”

“Trust us, looking pretty isn’t for the guy. It’s a real self-boost and since you’ll be wearing one of mine or Jo’s dresses, you won’t have to worry about ruining an outfit with bad memories… ouch!” Claire rubbed her arm where Jo slapped it.

Y/N laughed as they chattered plans between them, then waited for her input. They were good friends. Y/N wouldn’t have anybody else looking at her, waiting to hear her ‘okay’. If this did go sideways, they would know how to help her through it.

“Alright then. Let’s get going.”

All three of them squealed as Jo and Claire started to dress her for the night.

The summons was almost as ominous as Dean thought it would be: a quick call with a single command. He attempted to walk quietly through the arena, but his steps continued to echo through the dark space. Raphael’s office provided the only light, shining from one corner of the rafters except for two dark forms moving on the inside. Bobby was waiting for him at the door with a heavy pat on the back but didn’t enter with him.

“Winchester,” Uriel sounded surprised to see him, “sit down.” Dean sat in the only available chair, which was situated in the middle of the room. Uriel started to pour a drink with his back turned to Dean. Dean knew it wasn’t for him. Uriel took it instead to Raphael, who was leaning against the windows in the far corner.

“You know why you’re here?” Raphael asked, wafting the glass under his nose. Dean could smell the aged brandy from his chair.

“Are you the principle now?” Dean snarked.

“No. I’m your boss.” Uriel sipped the drink slowly, keeping his voice low and dangerous. “And when I tell you to lose, you lose. Not that KO from last night.”

Dean shifted in the chair. He’d never met Raphael in person before, but he didn’t like it.

“We lost money last night, Winchester,” Uriel chimed in. “I want to take it out of your hide, but Raphael’s got a better plan.” Uriel poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it quick, snarling through the burn.

“Cole gets a rematch.”

“What? You son of a ” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel pushed him back down and kept his hand clamped over Dean’s shoulder.

“A rematch. I’m leaving it up to Cole to figure out the particulars of why he wants one, but it’s also your second chance. If you follow orders like a good little soldier till then, I might let you keep your win. Otherwise, I’m going to tell some of the more obedient players to give your brother a visit.”

“Leave Sam out of it.”

“Can’t do that, Winchester.” Uriel squeezed Dean’s shoulder harder, then left to sit on the edge of Raphael’s desk. “When one of the team messes up, it ripples through the whole operation.” Uriel stood to his feet under Raphael’s glare.

“What’s it gonna be, Dean? You can win either way if you play along.”

Dean gripped the arms of the chair, almost wishing he could hear them splinter if he squeezed hard enough. But he relaxed his gaze and loosened his grip. “What’s the script?”

“We’ll tell you when it’s time.” Raphael nodded to Uriel, who grabbed Dean by the arm and pushed him towards the door. Dean had his hand on the knob when Raphael laughed. “See, following orders isn’t too hard.”

Dean turned to growl but kept moving instead. When Bobby wasn’t outside, he left the door open, relishing in Uriel’s harsh curse.

She knew she was early, but every minute felt like an eternity. The table for two by the jukebox was empty, reserved with her name on a tented piece of paper. She laid it flat at first, but now she was fiddling with it till it was shredded. Again, she checked the clock on the wall. He wasn’t late, yet, but damn did it feel like it. Did he have the same idea to skip out? He couldn’t, or the table wouldn’t be reserved. Right?

“Did he stand you up, doll?” A well-dressed man sat in the other chair, looking very much out of place. His grin was not unpleasant, but it was too big. Too bright. “What’s your handle? I’m Richard.”

“None of your business. I’m waiting for someone.”

“And he’s late. His loss.”

“Actually, he’s still got a while. I’m early. Your miss.” Y/N turned to face away from him, hoping he’d take the hint. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hands in his, gripping them tightly so she couldn’t get away.

“But a lovely girl like you shouldn’t be waiting alone, and not without a second opinion.”

“The lady said to get lost. Sorry, I’m late.” Dean yanked the man to his feet. Richard straightened his jacket as they stared each other down.

“Actually, you’re right on time.”

Richard twisted his head, “Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. Out of the kennel for the throw last night?”

“Shut your mouth, before I kick it wide open.”

Richard chuckled, “what? You don’t want your girl knowing it’s all planned to a tee? A scam. A fake.”

“You want to see how real it is? Take a step out back and I’ll show you.” Dean and Richard grabbed each other by the lapels at the same time, but Y/N jumped to her feet and pushed them apart. She pulled Dean to her side of the table and wrapped her arms around his waist, positioned to defending and being defended by Dean.

“I’m not interested in seeing him bloody you, sir. I’m not interested in you at all. So get moving.” Her heart hammered in her throat as Richard grunted and walked out.

“If you squeeze any tighter, darlin’, I’m gonna get bumped down to a middleweight.”

Y/N let go of his waist, “sorry. I just ruined my chance, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. That was wonderful,” Dean laughed. “Just remind me if I get too big for my gloves that you could KO me in a heartbeat.” He helped her into his chair before hanging up his coat and hat and joining her. “Does that always work?”

“It didn’t at the fight, thankfully. It comes from a promise I made to myself.”

“And what was that?”

Y/N grinned, “stop being a polite doormat.”

Dean gave her a thumbs up and sighed. They sat in silence till Dean asked, “Hey! This is a date, isn’t it? Do you want dessert first or last?”

“Please?” Y/N thought back to some of the phrases Jo and Claire had taught her. Was this one of them?

“This place has the best pie in Illinois. Sometimes I eat it first so I don’t run out of room, but if that’s too strange we can wait.”

“No, that sounds perfect.”

“Alright, blueberry or cherry?”

He was a comical sight. Y/N could tell he wanted to wolf it down while it was hot, but he ate slowly to stay neat. In the meantime, she learned more about him, and he learned more about her. Just the basics. The dinner slowly emptied out till there was only the cook and the bar. By the time they ordered and their main meal came out (burgers with a slice of pineapple!) they were joking like old friends, but she could tell he was holding something back.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” She giggled as he looked around confused after having taken a huge bite of his burger. “Not the food, the question you’ve been holding back on.”

Dean nodded and swallowed, but thought about it for a minute longer before trying to throw it into the air. “So, I get the moving away from home and the freedom and the roommates. But why Chicago? You sound too high-class to be living on this dark side of town.”

It took her by surprise, deeper than the rest of the questions. She took a breath and tried the usual brush-off. “Chicago was less expensive than New York, so here I am.”

“No, it’s more than that. I’ve seen… I’ve had that face before. What are you running away from?”

She nearly choked on her drink. But his eyes were attentive and deep. And don’t get lost Y/N, or he’s going to think you’re crazy. “It’s not a what. It was a who.” She shrank back into her chair, questioning if she was really going to tell him. He reached out for her hand, and she gave it to him. The warmth and the small squeeze spurred her on. “Honestly I didn’t want to go to the fight. I thought I’d had my fill of seeing punches thrown.” The next words died in her throat, refusing to leave.

“I know the feeling.”

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. He nodded and looked away, but didn’t add any more. He didn’t have too. He gave her hand another squeeze then stood in front of the juke. Dean had paid enough to keep it going all night, but he switched over what was playing to one of Sinatra’s new albums. Come Fly With Me began to spin, crackling to life as trumpets started the tune. He pushed as few of the tables out of the way before pulling Y/N to her feet. He started swaying slow but picked up the pace as the music hopped.

By the time Moonlight in Vermont rotated in, Y/N was as close to him as she could be with their clothes still on. He led the way, turning her and swaying while humming along. But she couldn’t help but feel the questions bouncing around in his head as his back stiffened and he swayed out of time.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re stiff.” She smiled into his tie as his steps faltered, making a note to thank Jo. “You’re not swaying to the music as you were,” she continued. “Something in your thoughts is blocking your steps. Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean considered it. But she was too new, freshly escaped from other problems. She didn’t need his. Her voice broke through his wonderings.

“Say what you can. Your heart will follow.”

Dean spilled in one breath, “what would you do if… have you ever… I mean… ugh. I’m not very good at this.” Dean stopped swaying. Y/N placed her hands on his chest. They were so small and delicate. He couldn’t break her. “I’m sorry; I can’t.”

“That’s alright. But you still need to talk to someone. Somebody you trust.” Y/N ran her fingers under his tie, searching for anything comforting. “I talk to Jo and Claire about anything I’m not sure about. And I’m just a phone call away.”

Dean perked up. “Are you offering to give me your number?”

Y/N blushed. “Yes. But be warned, it’s a party line. It’s probably worse than getting spied on by the police.”

“Hey, mine is too. Same boat.”

“Miss?” the bartender interrupted the moment, and Y/N realized she was again pressed up against Dean.

“Yes,” she said, stepping back.

“There’s a call for you. A young lady named Jo?”

“Oh.” Y/N looked at the clock. It was half an hour later than when she’d said she be home. She ran over and took the receiver. “Jo?”

“How are you still there? We figured you’d be home or elsewhere by now.” Y/N heard Claire giggle in the background.

“Sorry. We were, um,” Y/N turned to face away from Dean, “we were dancing to Sinatra.” She heard him snort and start to gather their things.

“Alright. Will we be seeing you tonight?” Now they were both giggling.

“No. I just didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll be home shortly.” She ignored their teasing and hung up. The waiter waved away her coins with a smile and continued to clean up the bar. “It seems I am late for curfew.”

“I’ll call you a cab.” He nodded to the waiter, who nodded back and dialed. “And before we get interrupted again, what’s the number?” She laughed and wrote it on a napkin before sliding it into his coat pocket. He wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and led her to the door. They stood in the window until the cab honked. Dean handed the cabbie his cash, despite Y/N arguing that she could pay her own way.

“What about you?” she asked, leaning out the window.

“I walked here; I’ll walk back.” He chuckled at her worried face. “I’m Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. I’ll be fine. And I might take your advice. So, thanks for that.” The driver started up his motor. “And Y/N, thanks for coming out.”

“Thanks for asking me.” She blushed and peaked at the driver. “I hope we can do it again soon.”

“I’ll call you.” He waved after her as the cab pulled away. His apartment could have been a block away or fifty. He didn’t care; every step felt like it was on air. As for Uriel and Raphael… well, he pushed them out of his mind. They could wait till daylight. Their damned plans weren’t going to bring him down now.

Y/N sprawled out on her bed still in her roommates’ date dress. Jo and Claire were whispering like giddy snakes in the living room, waiting for her to regale them with everything. But first Y/N wanted to remember the way he felt pressed against her, the way he smelled, his smile.

What couldn’t he tell her?

She sighed the question away. When he was ready, he’d say something. And maybe, if her luck held out, she could tell him things too. Things she hadn’t even told Jo or Claire.

Part 3: Undercard 

Tags: @kittenofdoomage @supernatural-jackles @theriumking @ilostmyshoe-79 @dean-imagine-reblogs @itskilling-me  @idontknow-canyou @cookie-dough-lova  

Consequences – Part 1: Ringside

Aebli Leave a comment
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Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. When asked out on a date, she says she’ll only go if he wins. Which is a serious problem.

Pairing: Boxer!Dean x Reader

Warnings: violence in the form of boxing

Word Count: 3100+

Note: I’m not a boxing expert, but I have watched a lot of fights from the greats to make this series. Find any Sugar Ray Robinson fight on YouTube and use it for background music if you’d like. I certainly used some to get in the zone. Feel free to leave comments on how you like or dislike it (with reasons why you dislike it) and guess where the story is going.

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The den didn’t look like much from the outside. The brick was chipping on the corners and several of the windows were boarded up. If there hadn’t been a line of patrons waiting at the door, Y/N would have thought it was abandoned.

She looked at her ticket stub again. Admit One: Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-Finals.

“Why are we here?” she asked Jo, her roommate.

“Because Claire got tickets from her friend who works concessions. She’s already inside and said to meet at the seats on the second row.” Jo spun, flaring her skirt and drawing the eye of several men standing around them.

“I feel overdressed.” Y/N looked down at her little black dress, wincing at the grand amount of tulle under the skirt. In reality, it was only a notch above what she wore around town, but she would have preferred to save this dress for a Sunday. “It’s just going to be a bunch of sweaty guys beating each other up. We could watch that any night at your mom’s bar.”

“Y/N,” Jo sighed, “try to enjoy this. The guys fighting tonight are going to look a lot better than the ones at the bar.” Jo leaned close and whispered, “and they’ll be wearing considerably less clothing.”

“Jo!”

A quick cheer resounded from the front of the line as the doors opened. Light poured out into the street, followed quickly by lively music. Barely twenty people had walked through the doors when the bet collectors were yelling the stats. Y/N and Jo showed their ticket to the bouncer and were nearly drowned in the rush to get in. They were separated, but Y/N walked over to a less populated part of the arena to catch her breath.

“You alright, sweetheart?” a voiced asked.

She turned and found herself face to chest with a man in a suit. Taking a step away, she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with concern, but something about him made him feel dangerous. Like he could easily overpower her in more ways than one.

“Yes. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my seat.” She turned to walk away.

“You might want to wait a few more minutes till the crowd dies down or you’ll get swamped again.” Y/N stopped to listen. It was still crowded. “And I would take a moment to breathe. Once you’re sitting down, it’s probably not going to smell good.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. But she stayed all the same. If the smell of sweaty men could reach her up here, then it was going to be unbearable down there.

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” he asked, holding out a hand. She shook it with her fingertips.

“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.” She turned to watch people find their seat, reminded of the movements of ants.

“Have you ever been to a fight before?” Dean asked.

“Are you writing a book?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Just wanted to get to know you, sweetheart.”

Y/N snickered, “I hope you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it.”

“Well now that you mention it…” Y/N turned to gape at him. He was serious. If he wasn’t so big she would have thought his boyish movements would have been cute. She almost missed his question while watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Did you hear me?”

“Please?”

“What are your plans after the fight?”

“As far as I can see, nothing with you.” Y/N turned to walk away, she could handle the second-row problems better than this.

“Come on, princess. Being one of the boxers should get me somewhere.”

Y/N took a deep breath. He was big enough to be a boxer but didn’t seem to fully fit the type. Not to mention he wasn’t dressed for a fight.

“I’ll tell you what. You win your fight tonight and I might meet you after the prizefight. Otherwise, forget it.”

Y/N walked away from his grinning face and into the pit. Jo and Claire didn’t have time to ask questions as the first opponents arrived at the ring. Y/N was ready to forget Dean.

“Dean! Where’ve you been, boy?” Bobby Singer grabbed Dean by the lapels and tugged him into the prep room. “You need to get dressed before Uriel gets here.” They froze as someone knocked on the door. “Balls.”

Bobby opened the door for Uriel. Dean hated his sneering face, but he was second in command for the match-fixing ring.

“Take a dive in the fifth, Winchester, and stay there. Feel free to do what you want till then as long as it doesn’t keep Cole from taking you out.”

“That’s not what we agreed, Uriel,” Bobby snarled, “Dean’s supposed to go to the big prize match in March.”

“He will. We had to add a week into the schedule so a special guest could meet you there. You’ll get a rematch next week, and then you’ll be on your way as planned.” Uriel laughed, a sound everyone found akin to nails on a chalkboard.

“You’d better not screw me. Not like you did to Cas with Bartholomew.” Dean stayed back, but his fists were tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Yeah, wasn’t that a bite? He made the distance till the tenth, though.” Uriel chuckled.

“It was torture,” Bobby spat.

Uriel stepped forward till he loomed over Bobby. “I wouldn’t focus on the past if I were you. Those who look back too much tend to get lost in the future.” He nodded at Dean and walked out, shouting over his shoulder, “the fifth, Winchester.”

They stood in silence, both seething. But it was the life they were in, one that they more or less chose. Sometimes they joked that God himself couldn’t stop them from deciding who lived and who died. They saved that for nights even darker than this.

“One of these days someone’s going to feed him a knuckle sandwich,” Dean growled.

Bobby nodded in agreement. “But it’s not gonna be you. And it’s not gonna be tonight. You’ve got too much riding on your family for you to rebel. It’d take the whole house of players to end this.”

“Or getting caught,” Dean mumbled.

“Bite your tongue boy! If they get caught, we get caught. And then all their attack dogs will get stuck in the same cage as us. We wouldn’t last the night.” Bobby sighed. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He was getting old, and the stress of the maintaining the fixes was taking its toll. Bobby shook himself with a grunt. “You need to change quick if you want to catch Sam before his fight.”

Dean shed his jackets while Bobby hunted out the shorts and gloves. He’d signed on to do whatever Uriel told him, but the image of the pretty girl from earlier mixed with the shame of being a fixed boxer made him question how tonight was really going to turn out.

Y/N jumped as the bell rang, ending the match. The ref announced the scores, awarding the win to the tall man with long hair. She halfway wondered how he could see his opponent.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started, “these ring officials have been appointed by the Illinois State Boxing Commission.” He rattled off several names, she couldn’t remember if they were different from the match before, but they did look a little grimmer. “This is the feature presentation of the light heavyweight not exceeding 175 pounds. From Fort Benning, Georgia, wearing the black trunks with the white stripe and weighing 170 pounds: Cole “Avenger” Trenton.”

A quick cheer rang through the arena. The announcer waited for it to die down before continuing.

“And from Lawrence, Kansas, wearing the white trunks with the black stripes and weighing 175 pounds: Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester.”

Y/N nearly fell out of her seat. It was the man she’d met earlier. And he was the title fight! She covered her face with her hands as Dean looked around the crowd before finding her. He smiled and winked, making her blush. She hoped he was too far away to see it.

“And ladies and gentlemen here is referee Balthazar Smith with instructions for both contestants. And ladies and gentlemen, no smoking, please.”

The referee stepped up to the mike and waited for Dean and Cole to meet. Their coaches stayed close, massaging their shoulders, and probably holding them back based on the daggers they were shooting. “You boys received your instruction from the Illinois Boxing Commission. I want a clean break at all times; careful of your kidney punches and your rabbit punches. In case of a knock-down, I want you to go to your furthest corner and stay there ‘til I tell you to come out fighting. Also, in case of a knock-down, you must take an eight-count. It that understood?” Dean a Cole nodded. “Shake hands and come out fighting.”

The boxers separated and went to their respective corners. Their managers took their robes and gave them mouth guards. The row in front of the girls was filled with men from the press. Y/N had been listening to the man directly in front of her all night as he announced the fight for a small radio program. He kept using terms she didn’t always recognize, but sometimes he’d clarify for visiting listeners. She hoped Dean wouldn’t get hurt.

Bobby held Dean back as he bounced and shadow boxed. “I know you don’t want to, but do what Uriel says. Next week you’ll get the rematch, and then we’ll be onto the big time.” Dean nodded and danced towards the center as the bell rang.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the opening bell for this scheduled ten rounder, and Raisin’ Cain Winchester, who won the championship last year, is on his way to defend his title against a younger opponent in the semi-finals. Cole the Avenger is fighting in memory of his father, who died due to boxing injuries.”

He labeled several punches and moves as the men started to swing at one another. “Trenton, who is very effective inside, very good at body punching, and Winchester who is obviously good at long range… with that snappy left jab… and the right cross.”

Dean cinched Cole’s arms to his sides, preventing further body punches. Already they were both sweating, and Dean’s grip was slipping. The referee came over and broke them apart. They separated, but Cole chased Dean into a retreat. Dean fired out a jab, which Cole returned. They traded punches, uppercuts, and several different types of blows that Y/N had learned that night.

“That right hand to Winchester was just a trifle short. If Winchester keeps dancing around the ring like he is, he might tire before he can knock some wind out of Trenton. But there can be no doubt that both men came here tonight to fight. A short minute remaining in round one.”

To Y/N, the minute felt like ten as the men quickly exchanged blows faster than the reporter could call them. Cole landed a solid punch to Dean’s face, making him stagger back into the ropes.

“A little trickle from Winchester. Trenton is scoring repeatedly!”

The bell sounded as Dean pushed off. They ignored one another and went to their corners.

“And round one is over! Raisin’ Cain Winchester taking about as much punishment as I’ve ever seen him take in round one except for last year when Castiel Novak nearly punched him out of the ring. Winchester came back to win that fight. Novak fought and lost to Bartholomew in his next bout in a nearly murderous display. Winchester has had a total of 130 bouts, losing seven, two draws, and one technical knock-out trying to win the middleweight championship when he first started.”

The reporter continued to pass along Dean’s stats and Y/N couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He was actually a good fighter. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a boxer. Not yet. There were still nine rounds to go to see if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Rounds two, three, and four came and went with similar displays of prowess. Dean’s cut on his brow kept bleeding into his eye. Bobby kept patching it up and cleaning it the best that he could. Y/N learned that he had been a boxer back in the day, but an unsportsmanlike hit to his spine kept him out for several years. When he came back, he stuck to training others and found the Winchesters: Dean and Sam. He was a coach for both of them. Y/N wondered how his heart stayed in his chest on nights when they both fought.

“Trenton talking to Winchester constantly. And the eye of Dean Winchester is starting to smear a bit. Right on the right eyebrow.”

Cole swung out, catching Dean in the ribs, making him double over.

“Probably the best blow of the fight! Avenger Trenton overhand right swinging below to catch Winchester in the ribs.”

Dean swung wildly, missing Cole completely as he ducked. Dean backed away and tried to wipe the blood out of his eye, but missed seeing Cole’s left hook. He dropped like a stone, his head bouncing painfully against the canvas.

The world slowed down to single heartbeats. Patrons leaped to their feet like rocks in molasses. Bobby shook his head, refusing to watch. Y/N looked for his eyes, begging whoever would hear her to see the brilliant green instead of the blood over his closed lids. She gasped as they fluttered.

He found hers as well, latching onto them like a ship to a lighthouse during a storm.

The referee started to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

“To hell with this,” Dean mumbled.

Four.

He reached for a rope, using it to pull himself up. But knees don’t count. He knew he had to get to his feet.

Five.

Cole shouted at him, “stay down! Or you’ll be worse than done, Winchester.”

Six.

Dean managed to get one leg under him, but it wobbled too much to support him.

Seven.

Dean pulled again, straining against his bruised ribs to stand on his feet.

The crowd roared with delight.

“Dean Winchester was not down for the count yet, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve still got a match as long as he’s got any fight left in him.”

The bell rang, ending the fifth round. Cole looked pale and a little green around the gills. Dean nodded to him, taking the blame for the manager storm that was going to hit later.

They met again, but Cole let Dean do all the hitting, feigning exhaustion. Dean knew Cole’s fighting and his style. Cole was tired, especially now that Dean wasn’t pulling his punches.

“A slowly tiring Winchester, but Trenton slows as well. Not punching cleanly going into this round, missing. Winchester’s left hook was low, giving him a warning from ref Balthazar.”

Dean gave Cole four quick jabs to the torso, sending him stumbling into the ropes amid a chorus of cheers. He followed with three more to the head and face.

“Come on Dean! You’ve got ‘im!” Y/N screamed.

“Four clean blows into Trenton, and then three more. Winchester was hurting Trenton. He’s hurting him now. Jabs to the ribs and the face. Now a bolo. Trenton is round housing, missing Raisin’ Cain Winchester by a mile. Trenton’s left eye is swollen. Closing gradually. Damn! Pardon my language, ladies and gentlemen, Dean Winchester has spun Trenton around. He’s still standing, but blocking drunk. Ref Balthazar separates them again as Trenton leans on Winchester. Half a minute to go in the sixth round. Winchester set him up with those body blows, damaged his nose. He has Trenton on his feet asleep, holding on. The audience is standing and cheering.”

Dean kept jabbing. Cole wasn’t fighting back and he was a fellow pawn, but Dean was punching red. All those times when he had a win in the bag and Uriel told him to fall, or every time they promised him the prize fight, like tonight, but then took it away. He could hold himself up. They could take their schemes and schedules with them to hell.

“Trenton punching drunk as the bell rings, ending round six. The ringside doctor checking him out. If he doesn’t respond to the bell, the fight will be over. No! He’s up and ready to go. This is round seven, ladies and gentlemen. And Winchester is not holding back, not with the end so close.”

Y/N notices a flurry of movement to one side of the ring. The doctor is waving his arms till a large man nods. The bell rings, but Dean keeps going.

“Winchester doesn’t hear the bell. Ref Balthazar has to break them apart. But it’s too late! Down goes Trenton. The ref counts… and Dean Winchester has won by a knockout, ladies and gentlemen. For six rounds, Trenton gave better than he took. Then Winchester unleashed all of his best guns for the last round. Our score cards showing that Winchester was ahead sixty-three points to fifty-seven.”

The ref pulled Dean towards the middle as Cole’s coach and attendees pulled Cole’s body off the canvas. The announcer stepped on stage and grabbed the mic. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, the winner by knockout, in two minutes and fifteen seconds of the seventh round, and the defending winner of the Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-finals is Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. He will face his last opponent to defend his title for another year once dates have been determined.”

He raised Dean’s arm above their heads. Y/N joined the rest of the crowd with a standing applause and cheering.

“See! You enjoyed yourself.” Jo yelled above the din.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Thanks, Claire, for the tickets.”

Claire continued cheering, stopping for a split second to gasp out, “he’s coming this way.”

Y/N looked back at the ring to see Dean pushing his way through the managers. Aiming to meet him halfway, she headed to the chaos surrounding the canvas.

Bobby was shaking Dean. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Uriel’s voice said, breaking into the circle. “He wasn’t thinking at all.”

Dean stopped his struggle to face Uriel. “You want to duke it out here?” he challenged.

Uriel shook his head with a smirk. “No. But we will discuss this Winchester. Enjoy the light… while it lasts. And get that brow checked out; we wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”

Dean broke away, surging through the crowd. He bumped into the person he wanted to see most.

“Heya, sweetheart. You got plans?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Part 2: Caution 

A Marvelous Night for a Rain Dance

Aebli Leave a comment

deepdisireslonging:

The reader and Dean have hot rain sex.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: SMUT; over 1,000 words of just smut. Rain sex. Fingering. Oral (female receiving).  

Word Count: 1800+

Note: This originally started out as a Sam fic, but then there was a line that sounded more like Dean, so… there’s that. If you guys have an idea for a Sam fic, let me know! As always, constructive comments are appreciated. I’m also thinking about tagging. Let me know if you want me to tag you the next time I come out with a certain character fic that you like. For now: enjoy!

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