dean never believed he would be able to have something like this: a wife and daughter. the impalas backseat went from a place to feel each other up or have late night talks to your daughter's little place in something that was once just his.
your daughter's little feet swung as she sat perched in her car seat, the radio was low and soft. you were sat in the passenger seat next to dean, his hand placed firmly on your thigh.
almost as if it was grounding him.
dean smiled as he heard his little girl—her tiny voice singing along to the songs playing. she was his little pretty in pink backseat driver; the way she copied his way of grumbling as cars cut him off, or how you would yell at people about their driving. even though the window was down and they couldn't hear anything.
it was a life he always wanted deep down, even if he hid it behind all the scoffs and distant looks towards perfect families. and you gave it to him, gave it all to him. your patience, time, sweet words, and gentle touches.
you softened him, not in a bad way. all the years of hunting had shaped him roughly, yet you stepping foot into his life allowed him to change.
as he reached a red light he leaned over and pressed his lips softly on yours, pouring all his love into this single kiss—just because.
sunny yaps! domestic dean question mark? this song keeps coming up on the radio and it gave me this idea!! i hope you enjoy it my babies 💗
special tags! @bluemerakis @littlesoulshine @h8aaz @bruisedfig @bejeweledinterludes @fuckedupfate
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!
dean winchester with a yallternative little girlfriend who loves everything from linda ronstandt to korn. dean winchester with his yallternative little girlfriend who is littered with tattoos and even convinced dean to get a matchy one with her. dean winchester who goes to festivals with his super yallternative little girlfriend and helps her crowdsurf to the front. dean winchester who holds some of the extra bracelets she's traded on his wrist so hers aren't too heavy. dean winchester who everyone just keeps passing joints to because he just has good vibes.
“Sam, did you use my skillet?” Dean asked as he stood in the kitchen.
He was preparing to make dinner, his chef’s apron tied neatly around his waist. Sam looked up from the table to see Dean holding the cast iron skillet in question.
“Yeah, but I washed it, I promise,” Sam shook his head, annoyed at his brother’s constant bickering over little things in their home.
“You washed it?” Dean growled out through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut in frustration.
Sam jumped at the loud sound the skillet made as it was roughly slammed onto the stainless steel countertop.
“What’s your problem?” Sam stood, defensive over what he felt was his brother being overdramatic.
“My problem,” Dean explained, leaning his hands against the countertop as if holding himself back, “Is that you don’t wash a cast-iron skillet.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, “You don’t use soap on it. Now I have to grease and season it all over again! It’s gonna put dinner back at least an hour!”
“Okay, well, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, Dean? It’s just a skillet.”
“Get out,” Dean huffed, and Sam questioned the outburst. “Out! Out of my kitchen, Sam.”
“Your kitchen?” Sam tried to counter, though he was still being successfully bullied from said room.
Dean waved his arms at Sam as he stepped forward, shooing him as he spoke. Sam, taken aback, retreated in surprise from the outburst.
“Yes, my kitchen,” Dean insisted with a challenging glare. Once Sam was outside the kitchen, Dean returned to his skillet. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before deciding to just let him be.
Dean looked down at the skillet with a pout, gently tilting it from side to side to examine the damage. The greasy gleam was gone from its surface, now dull and flavorless from Sam’s callous and ignorant efforts.
“It’s okay, Sweetheart,” Dean spoke to the beloved pan as he grabbed a container of shortening, turned on the oven, and prepared the pan to be properly seasoned once more. “I’ll make it all better.”
👉 Read it on Ao3
860w / fluff, comfort, domestic / any!reader
Work's been rough this week and as you relax in your bath Dean comes back a bit earlier than expected from hunting.
A/N the "you" in this fic is not gendered - works for everyone! ...with hair. I mention hair.
The week had been rough. Between the boss treating you like a child in spite of your experience, and the impossible demands, Friday hadn’t come soon enough.
Dean’s absence echoed in the house, in yourself. 10 days, and it felt like a month. He’d be back tomorrow, but you wished he was here right now, you wished you could take refuge in his arms, in his warmth.
You logged off. You weren’t hungry. There was just a numb buzz in your brain.
Once the bath was filled halfway, you checked on the water. Not hot enough. You cut the cold water.
You took the candles out, lighted them, put them around the bath ledge, turned off the lights.
You set the mini portable radio to a station that played some jazz and java. You didn’t think you’d be into it, but the tunes were smooth and singing about good men being good boyfriends. Finally, something positive.
5 o’clock. Your big toe was lazily playing with the dripping faucet, your plastic ducky bobbling around in the soft glow of the candles.
Wisps of evaporating water making the already humid air impossibly thick.
Another tune, another celebration of a man who knows how to show his love.
The warm, humid air...
Another tune...
A water drop...
Somewhere in a semi conscious slumber, you heard the house’s front door unlock, then open and close. Dean was back. He’d stopped and listened, and probably understood you were taking a bath with the music on.
There was a ruffle of him hanging his coat.
Him walking around the house.
A bit of noise from the kitchen – you knew the mess you left there.
The familiar sounds just made you stay half dozed off, comfortable in the tropical warmth.
Except now the songs from the radio were about your man.
A faint, cautious tapping on the bathroom door, and the knob turning.
A mere whisper. “Sweetheart, are you sleeping?”
You heard yourself grunt just enough to acknowledge you’d heard him.
A ruffle of plastic. Dean was getting between the curtain and the bath, keeping the fog well in the confines of your enclosed climate. Just thinking about him scooting along the bath made you smile and open your eyes.
Dean’s face lit up. “Hey sleepyface.”
“Hey.”
He gave you a kiss. “How was your week?”
You just scrunched your face.
Dean chuckled. “That bad?”
Scrunch.
Dean smiled.
“Hey, you’re back early.”
“Stupid monsters make for quick kills.”
You blinked slowly. “Yay for stupid monsters.”
“Oh yeah.” He wiped a bit of condensation – or sweat – from your brow. “Do you want to keep sleeping or do you feel like food?”
The mention of food woke something up. “Food.” You stirred sluggishly in the water, trying to sit up. “I’ll wash my hair and be right there.”
Dean reached for the shampoo. “Let me.”
“Okay.”
Dean took his time, his fingers massaging your head, wiping your forehead to make sure the shampoo didn’t find its way into your eyes. He trailed his hands on your neck softly, planted a kiss on your shoulder. “Time to rinse.”
As you laid back in the water, Dean made sure your hair was well rinsed out. You sat back up. “Thanks.”
“You take your time here, I’ll go make food. How do you feel about some good old mac n cheese?”
“Yes. And I’m not making it, so double yes.”
“I’ll add my secret ingredient. It’s gonna be epic.”
You chuckled. “Dean, you adding bacon isn’t a secret.”
Dean smirked, gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. “Take your time.”
“’kay.”
When you got to the kitchen, everything was cleaned up, the mac n cheese already in the oven.
Dean walked up to you, wrapped his arms around you, and rested his cheek against yours. “Hey there.”
He smelled so good. Or was it the mac n cheese? You closed your eyes. “Hey.”
“I have a huge question for you.”
“Hmmm...”
Dean twisted his arm back and pointed to something that looked like an oversized toaster oven on the counter. “What’s that?”
You opened your eyes. Ah. Of course. “It’s an air fryer.”
Dean wrapped his arm back around you. He spoke softly. “The fuck is an air fryer?”
You smiled as you closed your eyes again. “It cooks and crisps up your food without clogging your arteries and killing you.”
Dean breathed in very slowly and let it out just as slow. “I’m fucked.”
“Why?”
“Cause I love you. So that means I’ll let you feed me shit you cooked in that monstrosity.”
You chuckled. “All I heard is that you love me.”
Dean backed up a little.
You opened your eyes and saw him look back at you fondly. “It’s all that really matters I guess.”
You smiled. “That, and that I love you too.” You kissed him, holding him tighter.
The oven beeped.
Dean broke the kiss and smiled. “Choose a movie, I’m coming right up with dinner.”
You grabbed his ass with a little roar and let him go.
You went to the living room, smiling, thinking you too could write a song about how good your man is.
Dean is nesting? Into the Man of Letters building? Wow. He even made himself a room with a picture of his mom and himself. This is so cute and domestic. He even fixed up some food. This is so cute. He is learning how to be a good husband/boyfriend? The selfmade burger is amazing enough that Sam can't leave it be. Wow. I am so happy that he is nesting now.
He even suggested Kevin to eat some salad to get back to health. What a cute development. I love it.
He even found out that there are 6000 different kinds of tomates. He is full on okay with getting domestic. I freaking love it so much.
Summary: Dean sends Sam off on a little hunt, while he stays behind and prepares a birthday surprise for Sam..
“He couldn’t like pie, now could he?” Dean questions into the air around himself. Buying a pie would’ve been so much easier. But cupcakes were Sam’s favorite and well, if Sam has ever deserved them--it would be this year.
“You’re Dean Winchester,” he says out loud. “You can do this.”
Characters: Dean Winchester, Wife!Reader, Sam Winchester
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 679
Warnings: None, just fluff and a kiss.
A/N: This is my contribution for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge Week 9
Prompt: “Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them”
Wanna join my tag list?
Lucky Four?
“And don't listen to them. Don't you EVER listen to them!” You look straight into Sam's eyes, neck craned up even though your pumps give you a few extra inches you’re still not at his level.. “You know what, even better. Do listen to them and do the exact opposite!”
“Y/N!” Dean calls you from the foyer. You turn around already rolling your eyes at him. He’s ready, waiting for you, standing by the open door holding your purse and coat in hand… And damn the man can look good in just a sport blazer and jeans.
“I’m coming!” Annoyed you shout back, completely ignoring how mouthwatering he actually looks. “Oh and one other thing-” you start to say to Sam but he interrupts this time.
“Sweetie, I've babysat for you before, I know how to handle my nephews,” Sam laughs urging you to get out of the house. Twirling you around with his hands on your shoulders.
“First of, don’t you ‘Sweetie’ me, Moose!” you say looking over your shoulder, Sam scoffs at the nickname. “And secondly, the last time you watched them was 7 months ago and there was no baby!”
“Oh come one, Babe.” Dean grips your wrist once you’re at hand reach, pulling to him and quickly holding you by your forearms to avoid you bumping his chest. “Give the man some credit,” he grins down at you. “If he says he can handle them, it's because he can!” Dean rapidly slides your coat over your arms and shoulders and you snatch your purse from under his arm.
“Yeah! Besides,” Sam adds, “little Charles loves me, just like his big brothers!”
“Okay, okay… call me if anything happens. And you know I mean anything… Or I swear to god!” You warn finger to Sam’s face before you finally walk out the door and wait in the porch for Dean to take his car keys from the key bowl biting your lower lip at the show he’s putting unintentionally when he bends over a little bit.
“Yes! And you promise me you'll have a good time!” Sam Sam continues saying although you’re not listening to him completely.
When Dean joins you outside, he snakes an arm around your waist `pulling you flush to him and you almost whimper when your bosom collides with his strong chest. You push him away with a leering look in your eyes while he licks his lips, to give Sam hug and then is the brothers turn to say goodbye.
“Oh and you,” Sam insists to Dean now, “promise me won't get her pregnant again if you decide to go at it at the restaurant's restroom. Three is definitely my limit!”
“Hey!” you and Dean scold at the same time, Sam laughs shutting the door closed.
Dean and you stare at each others faces before Dean closes the distance between the two of you and kisses you. You passionately suck face under the entry lamp pendant like a couple of horny teenagers before you decide to break the kiss.
“Seriously though,” you look straight into his eyes. “Three is also my limit.”
“Really?” Dean kisses your lower lip before taking a hold of your hand and pulling you behind him towards the car. “I was thinking maybe we could go for the girl now…” he trails off. You give him a bitch face that’d make Sam proud as he walks around the car.
“What? You know what they say… fourth time’s the charm.” Dean unlocks the driver’s side door of the Impala and leans over the seat to unlock yours.
“Oh no, mister!” you climb into the front seat and make yourself comfortable. “Not gonna fall for that one… Nope.” you shake your head and look at him. He just grins back, little dimples showing at the end of his lips. “ Stop it! That’s not gonna work this time! Nuh uh!”
Dean’s grin goes wider and he adds a little flutter of lashes. “Just d-drive, we’re gonna miss our reservation!” you stammer a little. “Drive and we’ll talk about it later.”
