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Good Times- Dean Winchester by bow-to-your-goddess, literature

Literature

Good Times- Dean Winchester

(Y/NN)- your nick name Dean Winchester was a man that didn't show emotion regularly. But when he did, you knew it meant something. He holed up behind a wall and you were determined to get to know the Dean behind the mask. You'd been hunting with the brothers for a while now and you were busy nursing and injured hand in the backseat with Dean keeping you company. Your face contorted in pain as you accidentally bumped your hand as the Impala went over a pothole. You let out a grunt. Dean looked at you, alarmed. "You okay, (Y/NN)?" He said in concern. You shook your head, "No," you forced out, "Tell me a story about yourself Dean?" Dean l

I'm always here for you - Dean Winchester by bow-to-your-goddess, literature

Literature

I'm always here for you - Dean Winchester

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. The continual steady beat of the rain poured all around me as I stood in the rain waiting for Dean. I drew my long black trenchcoat tighter around me as I relished in the feel of the rain on my face. I heard the familiar rumble of the Impalas engine as she finally pulled up by the side of the street. I loved her purr. It sent shivers down my spine. I opened the passenger seat door and got in, letting rain in the car. Dean looked towards me with a blank expression. "Let's just get this over with." I nodded. Too scared to say anything to make the situation worse. I know I betrayed his

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Good Times- Dean Winchester by bow-to-your-goddess, literature

Literature

Good Times- Dean Winchester

I'm always here for you - Dean Winchester by bow-to-your-goddess, literature

Literature

I'm always here for you - Dean Winchester

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You're Home- Dean x Reader by deans-baby-67, literature

Literature

You're Home- Dean x Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: fluff? You examine your reflection in one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcases a vast airplane runway set against the backdrop of a darkened night sky. The sleeves of Dean’s striped shirt envelop your hands, and you fidget the edges between your fingers. Your hair is messy, the result of driving with your knees to try and hastily comb it into place. You haven't seen or talked to Dean in three weeks. He was called away at the end of November to help an old Hunter friend with an infestation of the Crocotta- creatures that mimic voices of loved ones in order to suck out t

Forgiven- Dean x Reader by deans-baby-67, literature

Literature

Forgiven- Dean x Reader

Pairing: DeanxReader Warnings: None The metal front door of the bunker groans to a close, the clashing noise echoing through the concrete halls. Dean stands from his spot at the table to greet you with a smile on his face, so you stomp down the stairs without making eye contact. “Hey, baby,” he starts cautiously. “Don’t ‘hey baby’ me,” you snap, dropping a backpack full of research documents by Sam’s feet at the other end of the table. “Baby- ah, Y/N, what’s wrong?” Dean’s brain is grappling for some sort of excuse, you can tell- and that makes

Cherry Pie (Dean Winchester x Hunter!Reader) by K4sies, literature

Literature

Cherry Pie (Dean Winchester x Hunter!Reader)

Living a life in the world where supernatural things happen on every corner wasn't always easy. No – to tell the truth it had been quite hard when you first discovered that your parents had been something called hunters. People hunting supernatural beings – witches, werewolves, demons, tricksters – when you first heard of it – it seemed so crazy – surreal. When your parents told you about the family business you thought they were crazy – laughing it off like you always had but then... It was only when your beloved father died on a salt and burn gone wrong that you truly believed them. Realizing that you wo

The Quiet Hour- Dean x Reader by deans-baby-67, literature

Literature

The Quiet Hour- Dean x Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Mentions of blood It’s a quarter past the quietest hour in the morning when Dean stumbles into your shared bunker room, flopping onto his side of the bed with a huff. He’s a mess- and not in the endearing way. His once-black boots hold a thick layer of slimy mud, which is currently being ground into the duvet. Dark demon blood dries and crusts against his hairline and under his nails while the bright red of Dean’s own blood is smattered against his jacket and the corner of his mouth. When you brush your fingers lightly against his neck, Dean rolls from