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Latest Posts by angels-silhouette - Page 4
best friend's dad!jensen .ᐟ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
okay so bear with me !! this saved as a video but i saw this gif on twitter and (my smut-rotted dilf-obsessed brain) immediately thought best friend's dad!jensen….. 18+
cw: smut, age gap (obvs), perverted!jensen, yearning, icky morals / character dynamics, reader is implied 18–mid 20s.
the way jensen looks at you, practically undressing you with his eyes, the young thing that you are, is foul to put it simply. he knows his perverted thoughts about you are inappropriate, probably verging on immoral—you’re the same age as his daughter for fuck’s sake—but that doesn’t stop the flutter of his heart or the throb of his dick anytime you’re near.
it’s like a compulsion; all he wants to do is teach you how to take his cock, make you yearn for it when he’s not around. he wants you so completely dependent on him that it makes you sick when you’re not with him. the need to slip his slimy fingers into every fold of your brain and manipulate you into a docile little lamb for his own pleasure makes him feel like a goddamn perverted mess.
he’s completely out of line, and he knows it.
but the idea of bending you over and cramming his pulsating chubbed-up cock into your tight young cunt, watching you whimper and blush as you make a mess of his pelvis with your sweet juices? jensen could jizz in his pants at the thought alone.
and the way you squirm under his gaze whenever he looks at you, his piercing green eyes and wolfish smile that shrink you into nothing but a floundering babbling little girl? yeah, he’d be silly to think he’d ever get over this fascination with you.
and the thing is, he knows you want him just as bad.
it’s evident in the way you squeeze your thighs together when you’re sat on his couch, watching a movie with your best friend, trying to find relief for that dull ache between your legs that always seems to linger whenever he’s around. or in the way your pretty eyes always flicker back to him when you think he isn’t looking. you’re such a sweet silly thing, really. he wishes he could just scoop you up into his arms and take you someplace where he could just bury his head between those sweet thighs of yours and pull orgasm after orgasm straight from your core.
you’re such a polite girl whenever you’re over at his house, so you’d deserve it, right? ….right?
and those times when he’s picked you and your best friend up from a party, helping as you stumble into his car drunk, giggling like two little school girls. the way his hand stays a fraction too long on your lower back as he helps you into the car, longing to dip lower and grope at the fat of your ass. and that charming smile he shoots you in the rearview mirror that says “such a good girl, coming home to me instead of going home with a silly boy your own age. that’s my smart girl.” those silent but oh-so-telling glances make your breath falter and your stomach pool with heat.
and jensen’s no idiot. he can see when a sweet young thing like you feels a little… flustered. he’s an attractive man; he knows when a lady has taken a liking to him.
but you? sweet little innocent you?
god, it’s bad. he feels like a sick pervert when he’s laying in bed at night, slowly stroking his cock to the thought of you—thinking about how good your pretty lips would look wrapped around his thick member with those sparkly little eyes of yours looking up at him from your knees, or how tight your walls would hug and squeeze his throbbing dick. the desire sears through him, his infatuation with you setting his body alight. he knows it’s wrong; you’re too young for him, too innocent, too good. but fuck, he needs you so bad. he wants to fucking ruin you, have you babbling as you bounce on his dick, whining about how good it stretches you out and how you’re his girl. his.
little does jensen know, your late-night thoughts mirror his exactly. you need him in a way that is indescribable, insatiable. your fingers dance around your folds, rubbing, pinching, curling up into your hole at the thought of him. but it’s just never enough. the idea of letting him, your lifelong best friend’s dad, split you open and use you however he pleases is another level of daddy issues you refuse to mentally unpack. it’s wrong; you know it’s wrong. he watched you grow up for goodness sake. the countless times he picked you and his daughter up from school. the times he took you both out for ice cream or to see a new movie. the times he’s called you his “second daughter.”
but yet, you catch his stares, the glances, the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip when you enter the room. and you feel the way his hands linger on your skin, branding you with warm tingles and a fire that licks up your spine.
you just wish he’d do something about it.
like folding you in half, knees against your chest, fucking you into the mattress, stealing the breath right from your lungs as he plunges into you, his cock leaking pre into your needy hole. you’d do just about anything to be entangled in his bedsheets, his hand over your mouth, stifling your mewls and whines as he whispers into your ear: “shush, baby… shh shh shh, she’ll hear us. we don’t want my babygirl knowing what we’re doing, do we? keep quiet f’me, sweetheart. that’s a good girl.”
the overwhelming need you have for jensen is soul-crushing cause you know, deep down, he’d never consider stepping out of line with you… would he?
fig yaps: i’m not sorry if this is FOUL !!!! cause like that fucking gif? i cannot. the way his eyes flicker up and down... the fucking smirk??? yeah... i need him so bad. ANYWAYS ENJOY PERVERTED BSF!DAD!JENSEN !!! there’ll be more of him,, and it will be me just typing out my fantasies lmao
feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated !! thank yaaaa <3
✦ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla
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In the Fields We Lie
Summary: World War I is at its climax. Dean is figuring out his life before his name gets drawn from the draft. Falling in love while he can. Will he get the life he always wanted? Or will the war destroy him? Word Count: 3k
Warnings: british!dean?? let's spice it up a little bit! I just know his deep voice with this accent would eat me alive if I could actually hear it! Also, world-building. No legit tw's.
Prologue
They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind tends to wonder. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have in the world, is time. What we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where shall we let our minds wander off to? Distant lands or perhaps a reality that we dream of that is better than our present? Do you dream of being in your lover's arms? Or do you wish you could have taken back those harsh words you said to your mother recently? Others have to think quickly, in a fraction of a second, or else they will not live to see the light of day.
In that darkness there is chaos and when everything turns quiet, is that moment of primal instinct to save your life or to accept that death will grab you and bring you to a hell that you have not seen yet. Anything to keep the mind busy in times of hardship is crucial. That is how we survive. The silence, especially in the time of war, is deadly. So deadly that it could turn anyone crazy.
Every soul is trying to keep themselves safe and there is not an option otherwise, unless they have lost their way. Lost hope. Those are the people you have to take care of, to watch out for. Without community and camaraderie, there is no purpose. Without care for others is the destruction of oneself. Without the care for oneself is to rot. Those who only think of the betterment of themself are soulless. To be self-sufficient is another story. To have support behind you, next to you, in front of you–gives you strength. To know that others are experiencing life similar to yours is comforting because ultimately you’ll feel less alone.
—
England
17 December, 1915
Friday
Dean Winchester was young and eager to work. He had always put some money to the side but now, with no end in sight to this war, he's been saving every penny. Maybe he could afford to send his brother to university–to save Sam from being a pawn in someone else's game.
It was a particularly cold morning, grey clouds coated the sky as far as you could see. The freezing air hitting Dean in the face feels like a pound of bricks. He’s already slipped and landed on his ass twice this morning while walking to work. Dean got a respectable job as a high-end tailor three years ago–a trait he has been naturally good at, all thanks to his mom.
He’s okay with having a wet bum because he knows the ladies he works with are going to have a good time making fun of him. What he isn’t okay with is his inability to stop daydreaming about his neighbor, and that is exactly what he does walking two kilometers to work.
They are acquainted. Dean has helped her move furniture and tried to fix her shower pipes once but failed miserably. Leaving him no other option but to pay for maintenance and to allow her access to his washroom. She had occasionally made him food whenever he came home late, or she would purposely bump into him in the morning before work to put a smile on his face.
They enjoy each other's company so much that they go to the market together to buy groceries. Sometimes, Dean stargazes in the park right below their building. On the occasion, she sees him through her kitchen window–every time she joins him to make sense of the clouds and their shapes. They’d always lay in silence, enjoying the presence not only from one another but the vast universe above them.
In this particular moment all Dean can focus on is her being in his home, using his shower. Being the gentleman that he is, he respected her privacy when she was over to wash up, which was every night for a week. But he also couldn’t, and presently cannot help but imagine her beautiful figure underneath her clothes.
The sound of her humming to herself in the shower echoes through his mind as snow crunches under his feet. Her voice sounds like a goddess blessing all of creation, a thought that had crossed his mind yesterday. She slipped the very first time she had been over and fell pretty hard; she screeched but then laughed hysterically. It was something Dean could get used to. Her coming over made Dean feel whole–made his flat less lonely.
Another thing happened yesterday. She had forgotten a change of clothes, and it was then that Dean knew he was truly in love with her.
—
Dean was making some boiled chicken and pasta when he heard the shower handle squeak and a handful of choice words fall from his beautiful neighbor's mouth. He assumed that she was rushing too fast while getting her toiletries together that she had forgotten something vitally important...
She had a date who was waiting for her outside the building. Jealousy raged over him when she told him that a particular man was taking her out to dinner. Apparently, they’ve known each other since grade school, even dated in their early teen years, then reconnected at a mutual friend's wedding. The negative emotions he was feeling quickly dissipated when she said his name.
“Dean…”
She sounded worried. Why was she worried? Was she nervous?
“Fran, I know your nerves are getting the best of you, but I’m sure you look lovely…” He turned around to find her in just a towel. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, and heart racing at a million miles an hour. Too stunned to speak, Dean quickly spun on his heels so he wasn’t starring. “Shit, I- I’m, I-”
She’s now laughing at his embarrassment. All worry washed away from her voice, “I forgot my dress. I guess I was so excited to get ready that I forgot it. Can I borrow a blanket or shirt to cover up in?”
After a few moments of silence she walked up to him and tapped his shoulder and spoke, “Dean, it’s okay. Turn around.”
He did as he was told, making sure that when he did, he only looked into her eyes. She was so beautiful–so confident in her body and in herself to let a man she wasn’t with, to look at her when she was indecent. A strand of curly hair fell into her eyes, before she could move it herself. Dean gently pushed the lock behind her ear, and both of their breaths caught in their throats.
Dean managed to whisper, “I’ll um, go grab you a shirt.” He never walked so fast in his life. Making sure he picked out a nice shirt that smelled good was top priority. He ended up dabbing some cologne on the collar just in case.
She was too busy admiring the books on his bookshelf to notice that he had come back, so he cleared his throat before speaking, “Fran, you better change quickly before your date thinks you’ve fallen in the toilet.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny Winchester. Gimme that.” Snatching the shirt like it was hers to begin with. She disappears behind the washroom door and reappears seconds later it seems like, but maybe that’s from the state of shock Dean’s still in. Fran has to ask him this twice to get his full attention, “Will you watch for any unwanted eyes as I walk to my flat?”
“Of course I will. Let me see your key so I can unlock your door.”
Walking past her is painful, he can feel his excitement pushing against his trousers. It’s only just started but he needs to be free of Fran soon or else she’ll see his indecency. Moving quickly and lightly, making sure not to cause a ruckus and concern the nosey neighbors. He unlocks her door and sets her key on the small table that sits just to the right of the door. Making sure that no one is in sight he quietly calls out her name. She holds her dirty garments to her chest as she sleepwalks to him. Hopping almost. Bloody cute, this one, Dean thinks to himself. As soon as she’s in her doorway Dean stands in front of her with both arms outstretched, and hands grabbing the baseboards to make for a better cover for Fran.
They are extremely close again, both of their hearts are pounding so hard it’s a surprise they can’t hear each other's heartbeats.
“You better have fun on your date. Hurry along then, you don’t want to miss him.”
“Oh, I will. Aaand… don’t tell me what to do.” Fran winked at him and then closed the door in his face. Dean smiled and walked back to his flat. He ended up burning his pasta on the stove. If this was any normal night, he would have lost his wits if he burned his food, but he made an exception for the gorgeous woman that stole his attention.
—
Ever since that incident, a very particular image of Fran has been taking over Dean’s mind. The shirt that Dean gave her was a pale pink shirt and he never realized, that without an undershirt underneath, that it was sheer. When Fran came out of the bathroom, her hair had gotten the fabric around her breasts wet. It was only for a brief moment that he looked, and Dean swears that she did it on purpose. She was perfect, everywhere. He thought he saw her smile when he gazed his eyes up and down her body, seeming almost satisfied with his actions. An angelic devil.
Too distracted by his thoughts, he barely realized that he was arriving at work. Taylor the Tailor: “Let Taylor, Tailor You!” was displayed above the building in bright red lettering. It was a quaint little shop that sparked Dean’s interest when he first moved to the city. Before he even asked for a position, he had to come in for a repair on a set of trousers. Long story short: while moving into his flat, he had slipped on some ice like he had been doing presently, and ripped them right down the bumline. Quite embarrassing, even more so, considering one of his neighbors came out of the building right as it was happening and laughed. It turned out to be Fran. She still teases him about it.
His mum taught him how to sew, crochet, and knit, so already having experience was attractive to the owner, Mr. Taylor. He was hired on the spot actually. He loves everyone he works with and that’s the reason why he’s stayed with the shop for almost two years.
He welcomes Mimi and Rena as he walks through the main room and towards the back to set down his jacket. Dean can hear the two older ladies gossiping about who knows what but it makes him chuckle. They think they’re whispering but they’re both basically shouting at each other.
“Ladies, ladies,” Dean interrupted them, “No need to whisper about how gorgeous I am, when I’m right here!”
Rena rolled her eyes, while Mimi stood up and made her way to him. Mimi takes his blue bowtie from his hand and begins to put it on for him. A little tradition that they’ve made. Dean is fully capable of doing it himself but he lets her. They both gain from it. “Thank you, my darling,” He kisses her on the cheek when she’s finished. “And how are both of my girls today? Ready for the weekend?”
“Always ready for the weekend, Winchester. Two days out of the week where I am free of you.”
“I’m truly hurt by your words Rena. You know what that does to my ego. Everyone loves me, right Mimi?”
Mimi laughs, “You are very lovable Dean. Rena is just an old fart. You’d think after so many years she’d warm up to ya.” That is exactly how each day goes. Rena is the stern and conservative type but has her moments, Mimi is a freer spirit and can get along with both of her coworkers, and Dean is, well, Dean…
The day is long and cold, everyone is being careful not to let their fingers get too stiff. Their day has only gotten longer, because right before five o’clock, a woman comes in. She is in desperate need of fixing her husband's work attire that her children had shredded with scissors. Three shirts and four trousers. She was a fairly sweet woman and she would pay them extra to get it done for her by Monday morning. They all obliged.
To make things fun, Dean took on three garments that were badly damaged, and told the ladies he would finish all of them before they finished their two pieces. This didn’t amuse Rena, but she ended up finishing before him and she was greatly satisfied, giggled even. Getting out of the shop around half past nine was quite impressive and everyone patted themselves on the back for the hard work.
“Get home safe my loves, I will see you later. Rena, you better think of me!” He yells at them when they’re about to round the corner of the street. It makes Rena furious.
The weather changed within the last two hours, snow is falling fast. He usually doesn’t mind walking through it, but he’s afraid that he’ll fall like he did earlier. His tailbone was still throbbing. As if summoning the inevitable, he slips and one of his legs extends too far out in front of him. Almost ripping his pants, again! Thank goodness for having hands to catch you. It was a close call—the amount of stretch he felt was worrisome.
As he approaches his building, he notices an all too familiar Rolls-Royce that belongs to someone who is the epitome of rubbish. Someone who is used to getting his way. Maybe it’s the money he has or possibly the fact that he has not struggled a day in his life–is why Dean hates him so much. There’s definitely another reason that has nothing to do with those things though. Dean is reluctant to go inside the entryway but likes to make this man suffer.
“Hello, Dick! It’s awful seeing you here,” Dean coldly welcomes him, “Where will you be taking Fran tonight?”
“For the last time, it’s Richard. And it should be none of your business, but I know she’ll tell you anyhow. We are going to my brother’s engagement party, and before you say anything–”
“Speaking of engagement, when will you ever ask Fran to go steady with you? Oh wait, that’s right, you were too busy getting your dic-” By the look on the other man's face, Dean knew Fran was walking up to them, “Dick! So lovely to see you mate!” He then turns around, smiles at his beautiful neighbor. As he walks up to her, he whispers for her to be safe, and heads up to his flat. In the stairwell Dean could hear Dick tell her how much he annoys him, and that is always his goal.
“Such a nosey neighbor…”
“I think he’s perfectly fine, Richard. Leave him be…” Her voice is so soft. She wouldn’t be talking so tenderly to him if she knew that he was seeing other women besides her. It infuriates Dean to his core, but he can’t tell her because she would rip him a new one and he does not need anything else being torn apart. Second, Fran would be so devastated and Dean doesn’t want to deliver that news to her. She will find out sooner or later, and Dean prays that he gets front row seats to Dick getting his balls kicked in.
—
The storm only got worse throughout the night. The power went out shortly after Dean got home. Currently at the kitchen table reading a book but failing horribly from sore eyes, waiting for Fran to be dropped off. At this point it could be likely that she had to stay with Dick and his family, which is revolting. It’s none of Dean’s business where she is, who’s she with, and he shouldn’t be waiting up for her but something isn’t sitting right. Looking back on it now, it seemed too late for an engagement party. Maybe it was a surprise and maybe the couple went out to dinner while everyone set up? He needs to go to bed and stop worrying, Fran is a grown woman and she’s more than ready to stick up for herself. She’s fine.
Looking out of his window one last time, to make sure he doesn’t miss her, is when he sees headlights crawling towards the building. Assuming it’s Fran, Dean sighs in relief and heads to his washroom to get ready for bed. As he gets done brushing his teeth is when he hears her walking up the stairs and decides to meet her in the hallway. Knowing she can barely see up the stairs from the power outage, he brings out a candle to give her when she gets home.
“How was your night out Miss Fran?” He questions as genuinely as he can, as she reaches the last step. She’s too quiet. He walks closer to her once she reaches her door and leans against the wall. She looks sad. Her eyes and nose are red. Dean can make out where the tears streamed down her face. His stomach flips and he feels nauseated instantly.
What happened to her? He wants to ask but knows it’s not the time.
Her voice is hoarse, “You know, you don’t need to wait up for me—it’s sweet but a little strange.” She half heartedly jokes. “My night was fine, thank you. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Of course. Here, take this…” He straightens up, taking a few steps to get closer to her, and he smells the alcohol coming from her breath. It must’ve been a rough night because she hardly drinks.
Handing her the candle and keeping eye contact he whispers, “So you can see where you’re going. I’ll come get you tomorrow.”
Dean wipes away a fallen tear from her face with his thumb and kisses her cheek in that same spot.
So softly she murmurs, “Goodnight Dean.”
“Goodnight Fran.” He says with equal gentleness. With even more longing.
—
A/N: Please let me know what you think!! I edited this on four hours of sleep lol.
tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted (idk if yall wanted to be tagged but hopefully it's okay!)
dean should have ended up with cassie
she made him look 10x hotter
i said what i said
Yes, I do comment on every single piece of fanfiction I enjoy because that's the social contract I was raised in fandom under.
◦˚~ MAROON DIVIDERS ~˚◦
Requested by: anonymous Info: these were all made by me. please reblog/like if use!
I’m bored and nosy. Please reblog this with the book you’re currently reading.
reblog this if you’re a fanfic writer & your motivation to write actually increases when readers actually show interest & give you feedback. even just a reblog or a little comment here and there
𓂃˖ ࣪ 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤
˚₊‧꒰ა @angels-silhouette ☆ dean winchester ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆˙⟡ where leo, cancer, sagittarius meets aquarius, leo*, saggitarius. ⟡˙⋆
𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐
ꔛ. meeting each other,
if fate were a person, it would've laughed when you two crossed paths. you and dean? your energies are like two flint stones colliding--fire, fire, fire! dean's leo rising practically screams for attention, but guess what? so does yours. the moment you walk into a room, people notice. and so does he. so, let's set the scene : it's late, the neon glow of some dingy gas station flickering against the impala's hood. you're leaning against your car, glaring at the ancient-looking gas pump that's absolutely not accepting your card. dean's watching from across the lot, beer in one hand, keys twirling in the other. he's seen that look before--pure, unfiltered annoyance--and damn if it isn't entertaining. "you gotta coax it a litte," he calls over. you turn, raising an unimpressed brow. "oh? and what do you suggest? whisper sweet nothing to it?" dean smirks, pushing off the impala. "nah, sweetheart. just gotta kick it real good." "...you can't be serious." dean shrugs. "worked for me once. or maybe i just have the magic touch." you scoff, but there's something annoyingly charming about him. and just like that? you've both got each other's attention.
ꔛ. friendship compatibility,
with both your moons in sagittarius, there's an instant understanding. you both crave adventure, freedom, and a life that isn't boring. you'd push each other to do the craziest things--late-night road trips, reckless dares, sneaking into places you definitely shouldn't be. your leo sun and mercury mean you love a good back-and-forth, and dean's aquarius sun and capricorn mercury make him the perfect sparring partner. expect witty banter, eye-rolls, and arguments over the dumbest things--but also deep, surprisingly heartfelt talks when it really matters. potential conflict? your mars in scorpio makes you intense when you care, but dean's mars in aquarius is detached. he runs when things get too heavy. you, on the other hand, demand honesty. if he pulls back, you'll call him out. still, as friends? unstoppable duo. the kind of connection that just makes sense.
ꔛ. romantic compatibility,
this? a wild, passionate mess that neither of you can walk away from. dean is irresistibly drawn to your leo sun and venus. you're confident, magnetic, and unapologetically yourself--and he loves that. you shine, and whether he admits it or not, he wants to be close to the light. your mars in scorpio makes you all-in when it comes to love. you don't do half-measures. but dean's mars in aquarius? it's complicated. he feels deeply, but he's terrified of being trapped. this means your dynamic is a push and pull--he teases, you challenge, he flirts, you raise the stakes. strengths? ridiculous chemistry. the tension is off the charts. you'd bring out dean's softer, more protective side, and he'd pull you into a world of adventure you secretely crave. weaknesses? you want commitment, whether you say it outright or not. dean... has a habit of avoiding thing until it's too late. the challenge? getting him to admit he wants you just as much as you want him.
ꔛ. request, strangers meeting for the first time
dean leans against the impala, beer sweating in his grip as he watches you struggle with the ancient gas pump. “need help?” you sigh, barely sparing him a glance. “unless you’re secretly a gas station whisperer, no.” dean smirks, pushing off the car. “lucky for you, i happen to be great with machines.” “is that so?” you cross your arms, studying him now. he’s cocky, all easy confidence and reckless charm. the type of guy you should probably ignore. but then? he kicks the pump, and the damn thing starts working. you blink. “…what the hell?” dean grins. “told you. magic touch.” you scoff, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind it. “you realize you just encouraged every idiot in a hundred-mile radius to start kicking gas pumps, right?” he shrugs. “not my problem.” you shake your head, but you’re smiling now. and dean? yeah. he likes that.
ꔛ. overall, score : 8.5 / 10
explosive chemistry, but can you handle the fire? it's magnetic, thrilling, and impossible to ignore. you challenge him, intrigue him, and keep him on his toes. he pulls you into a world of excitment, but can he give you the security you deserve? that's the real question. but one thing's for sure--neither of you are walking away from this one unchanged.
ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ
* since the birth time of dean hasn't ever been mentioned, I've placed him as a leo rising, since it's the sign that makes more sense to me.
ghostlight gravekeep ghoulboss
Idk who needs to hear this but just because your writing isn’t good yet doesn’t mean it’s bad either
In the Fields We Lie Masterlist
18+ MDNI
Summary: World War I is at its climax. Dean is figuring out his life before his name gets drawn from the draft. Falling in love while he can. Will he get the life he always wanted? Or will the war destroy him?
1. Part i 2. Part ii
In the Fields We Lie: i
Summary: World War I is at its climax. Dean is figuring out his life before his name gets drawn from the draft. Falling in love while he can. Will he get the life he always wanted? Or will the war destroy him? Word Count: 3k
Warnings: british!dean?? let's spice it up a little bit! I just know his deep voice with this accent would eat me alive if I could actually hear it! Also, world-building. No legit tw's.
Prologue
They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind tends to wonder. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have in the world, is time. What we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where shall we let our minds wander off to? Distant lands or perhaps a reality that we dream of that is better than our present? Do you dream of being in your lover's arms? Or do you wish you could have taken back those harsh words you said to your mother recently? Others have to think quickly, in a fraction of a second, or else they will not live to see the light of day.
In that darkness there is chaos and when everything turns quiet, is that moment of primal instinct to save your life or to accept that death will grab you and bring you to a hell that you have not seen yet. Anything to keep the mind busy in times of hardship is crucial. That is how we survive. The silence, especially in the time of war, is deadly. So deadly that it could turn anyone crazy.
Every soul is trying to keep themselves safe and there is not an option otherwise, unless they have lost their way. Lost hope. Those are the people you have to take care of, to watch out for. Without community and camaraderie, there is no purpose. Without care for others is the destruction of oneself. Without the care for oneself is to rot. Those who only think of the betterment of themself are soulless. To be self-sufficient is another story. To have support behind you, next to you, in front of you–gives you strength. To know that others are experiencing life similar to yours is comforting because ultimately you’ll feel less alone.
—
England
17 December, 1915
Friday
Dean Winchester was young and eager to work. He had always put some money to the side but now, with no end in sight to this war, he's been saving every penny. Maybe he could afford to send his brother to university–to save Sam from being a pawn in someone else's game.
It was a particularly cold morning, grey clouds coated the sky as far as you could see. The freezing air hitting Dean in the face feels like a pound of bricks. He’s already slipped and landed on his ass twice this morning while walking to work. Dean got a respectable job as a high-end tailor three years ago–a trait he has been naturally good at, all thanks to his mom.
He’s okay with having a wet bum because he knows the ladies he works with are going to have a good time making fun of him. What he isn’t okay with is his inability to stop daydreaming about his neighbor, and that is exactly what he does walking two kilometers to work.
They are acquainted. Dean has helped her move furniture and tried to fix her shower pipes once but failed miserably. The war is only getting worse, and there's no one to fix the problem–so that means unlimited access to his washroom. She has occasionally made him food whenever he came home late, or she would purposely bump into him in the morning before work to put a smile on his face.
They enjoy each other's company so much that they go to the market together to buy groceries. Sometimes, Dean stargazes in the park right below their building. On the occasion, she sees him through her kitchen window–every time she joins him to make sense of the clouds and their shapes. They’d always lay in silence, enjoying the presence not only from one another but the vast universe above them.
In this particular moment all Dean can focus on is her being in his home, using his shower. Being the gentleman that he is, he respected her privacy when she was over to wash up, which was almost every night for six months. But he also couldn’t, and presently cannot help but imagine her beautiful figure underneath her clothes.
The sound of her humming to herself in the shower echoes through his mind as snow crunches under his feet. Her voice sounds like a goddess blessing all of creation, a thought that had crossed his mind yesterday. She slipped the very first time she had been over and fell pretty hard; she screeched but then laughed hysterically. It was something Dean could get used to. Her coming over made Dean feel whole–made his flat less lonely.
In the first month of this situation, she had forgotten a change of clothes, and it was then that Dean knew he was truly in love with her.
—
Dean was making some boiled chicken and pasta when he heard the shower handle squeak and a handful of choice words fall from his beautiful neighbor's mouth. He assumed that she had rushed too fast while getting her toiletries together that she had forgotten her hairbrush or lipstick or something...
She had a date waiting for her outside the building. Jealousy raged over him when she told him that a particular man was taking her out to dinner. Apparently, they’ve known each other since grade school, even dated in their early teen years, and then reconnected at a mutual friend's wedding. The negative emotions he was feeling quickly dissipated when she said his name.
“Dean…”
She sounded worried. Why was she worried? Was she nervous?
“Fran, I know your nerves are getting the best of you, but I’m sure you look lovely…” He turned around to find her in just a towel. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, and heart racing at a million miles an hour. Too stunned to speak, Dean quickly spun on his heels so he wasn’t starring. “Shit, I- I’m, I-”
She’s now laughing at his embarrassment. All worry washed away from her voice, “I forgot my dress. I guess I was so excited to get ready that I forgot it. Can I borrow a blanket or shirt to cover up in?”
After a few moments of silence she walked up to him and tapped his shoulder and spoke, “Dean, it’s okay. Turn around.”
He did as he was told, making sure that when he did, he only looked into her eyes. She was so beautiful–so confident in her body and in herself to let a man she wasn’t with, to look at her when she was indecent. A strand of curly hair fell into her eyes, before she could move it herself. Dean gently pushed the lock behind her ear, and both of their breaths caught in their throats.
Dean managed to whisper, “I’ll um, go grab you a shirt.” He never walked so fast in his life. Making sure he picked out a nice shirt that smelled good was top priority. He ended up dabbing some cologne on the collar just in case.
She was too busy admiring the books on his bookshelf to notice that he had come back, so he cleared his throat before speaking, “Fran, you better change quickly before your date thinks you’ve fallen in the toilet.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny Winchester. Gimme that.” Snatching the shirt like it was hers to begin with. She disappears behind the washroom door and reappears seconds later it seems like, but maybe that’s from the state of shock Dean’s still in. Fran has to ask him this twice to get his full attention, “Will you watch for any unwanted eyes as I walk to my flat?”
“Of course I will. Let me see your key so I can unlock your door.”
Walking past her is painful, he can feel his excitement pushing against his trousers. It’s only just started but he needs to be free of Fran soon or else she’ll see his indecency. Moving quickly and lightly, making sure not to cause a ruckus and concern the nosey neighbors. He unlocks her door and sets her key on the small table that sits just to the right of the door. Making sure that no one is in sight he quietly calls out her name. She holds her dirty garments to her chest as she sleepwalks to him. Hopping almost. Bloody cute, this one, Dean thinks to himself. As soon as she’s in her doorway Dean stands in front of her with both arms outstretched, and hands grabbing the baseboards to make for a better cover for Fran.
They are extremely close again, both of their hearts are pounding so hard it’s a surprise they can’t hear each other's heartbeats.
“You better have fun on your date. Hurry along then, you don’t want to miss him.”
“Oh, I will. Aaand… don’t tell me what to do.” Fran winked at him and then closed the door in his face. Dean smiled and walked back to his flat. He ended up burning his pasta on the stove. If this was any normal night, he would have lost his wits if he burned his food, but he made an exception for the gorgeous woman that stole his attention.
—
Ever since that incident, a very particular image of Fran has been taking over Dean’s mind. The shirt that Dean gave her was a pale pink shirt and he never realized, that without an undershirt underneath, that it was sheer. When Fran came out of the bathroom, her hair had gotten the fabric around her breasts wet. It was only for a brief moment that he looked, and Dean swears that she did it on purpose. She was perfect, everywhere. He thought he saw her smile when he gazed his eyes up and down her body, seeming almost satisfied with his actions. An angelic devil.
Too distracted by his thoughts, he barely realized that he was arriving at work. Taylor the Tailor: “Let Taylor, Tailor You!” was displayed above the building in bright red lettering. It was a quaint little shop that sparked Dean’s interest when he first moved to the city. Before he even asked for a position, he had to come in for a repair on a set of trousers. Long story short: while moving into his flat, he had slipped on some ice like he had been doing presently, and ripped them right down the bumline. Quite embarrassing, even more so, considering one of his neighbors came out of the building right as it was happening and laughed. It turned out to be Fran. She still teases him about it.
His mum taught him how to sew, crochet, and knit, so already having experience was attractive to the owner, Mr. Taylor. He was hired on the spot actually. He loves everyone he works with and that’s the reason why he’s stayed with the shop for almost two years.
He welcomes Mimi and Rena as he walks through the main room and towards the back to set down his jacket. Dean can hear the two older ladies gossiping about who knows what but it makes him chuckle. They think they’re whispering but they’re both basically shouting at each other.
“Ladies, ladies,” Dean interrupted them, “No need to whisper about how gorgeous I am, when I’m right here!”
Rena rolled her eyes, while Mimi stood up and made her way to him. Mimi takes his blue bowtie from his hand and begins to put it on for him. A little tradition that they’ve made. Dean is fully capable of doing it himself but he lets her. They both gain from it. “Thank you, my darling,” He kisses her on the cheek when she’s finished. “And how are both of my girls today? Ready for the weekend?”
“Always ready for the weekend, Winchester. Two days out of the week where I am free of you.”
“I’m truly hurt by your words Rena. You know what that does to my ego. Everyone loves me, right Mimi?”
Mimi laughs, “You are very lovable Dean. Rena is just an old fart. You’d think after so many years she’d warm up to ya.” That is exactly how each day goes. Rena is the stern and conservative type but has her moments, Mimi is a freer spirit and can get along with both of her coworkers, and Dean is, well, Dean…
The day is long and cold, everyone is being careful not to let their fingers get too stiff. Their day has only gotten longer, because right before five o’clock, a woman comes in. She is in desperate need of fixing her husband's work attire that her children had shredded with scissors. Three shirts and four trousers. She was a fairly sweet woman and she would pay them extra to get it done for her by Monday morning. They all obliged.
To make things fun, Dean took on three garments that were badly damaged, and told the ladies he would finish all of them before they finished their two pieces. This didn’t amuse Rena, but she ended up finishing before him and she was greatly satisfied, giggled even. Getting out of the shop around half past nine was quite impressive and everyone patted themselves on the back for the hard work.
“Get home safe my loves, I will see you later. Rena, you better think of me!” He yells at them when they’re about to round the corner of the street. It makes Rena furious.
The weather changed within the last two hours, snow is falling fast. He usually doesn’t mind walking through it, but he’s afraid that he’ll fall like he did earlier. His tailbone was still throbbing. As if summoning the inevitable, he slips and one of his legs extends too far out in front of him. Almost ripping his pants, again! Thank goodness for having hands to catch you. It was a close call—the amount of stretch he felt was worrisome.
As he approaches his building, he notices an all too familiar Rolls-Royce that belongs to someone who is the epitome of rubbish. Someone who is used to getting his way. Maybe it’s the money he has or possibly the fact that he has not struggled a day in his life–is why Dean hates him so much. There’s definitely another reason that has nothing to do with those things though. Dean is reluctant to go inside the entryway but likes to make this man suffer.
“Hello, Dick! It’s awful seeing you here,” Dean coldly welcomes him, “Where will you be taking Fran tonight?”
“For the last time, it’s Richard. And it should be none of your business, but I know she’ll tell you anyhow. We are going to my brother’s engagement party, and before you say anything–”
“Speaking of engagement, when will you ever ask Fran to go steady with you? Oh wait, that’s right, you were too busy getting your dic-” By the look on the other man's face, Dean knew Fran was walking up to them, “Dick! So lovely to see you mate!”
He then turns around and smiles at his neighbor. As he walks up to her, he whispers for her to be safe, and heads up to his flat. In the stairwell, Dean could hear Dick tell her how much he annoys him, and that is always his goal.
“Such a nosey neighbor…”
“I think he’s perfectly fine, Richard. Leave him be…” Her voice is so soft. She wouldn’t be talking so tenderly to him if she knew that he was seeing other women. It infuriates Dean to his core, but he can’t tell her because she would rip him a new one for knowing. Quite frankly, he feels like Fran wouldn't believe him.
Dick has her wrapped around his diseased little finger.
Second, Fran would be so devastated and Dean doesn’t want to deliver that news to her. She will find out sooner or later, and Dean prays that he gets front row seats to Dick getting his balls kicked in.
—
The storm only got worse throughout the night. The power went out shortly after Dean got home. Currently at the kitchen table reading a book but failing horribly from sore eyes, waiting for Fran to be dropped off. At this point it could be likely that she had to stay with Dick and his family, which is revolting.
It’s none of Dean’s business where she is, who’s she with, and he shouldn’t be waiting up for her but something isn’t sitting right. It's way too late for them to still be out for dinner. Maybe the group was drinking or something? Fran is a grown woman. She’s fine. Dean needs to stop worrying.
Looking out of his window one last time, to make sure he doesn’t miss her, is when he sees headlights crawling towards the building. Assuming it’s Fran, Dean sighs in relief and heads to his washroom to get ready for bed. As he gets done brushing his teeth is when he hears her walking up the stairs and decides to meet her in the hallway. Knowing she can barely see up the stairs from the power outage, he brings out a candle to give her when she gets home.
“How was your night out Miss Fran?” He questions as genuinely as he can, as she reaches the last step. She’s too quiet. He walks closer to her once she reaches her door and leans against the wall. She looks sad. Her eyes and nose are red. Dean can make out where the tears streamed down her face. His stomach flips and he feels nauseated instantly.
What happened? He wants to ask but knows it’s not the time.
Her voice is hoarse, “You know, you don’t need to wait up for me—it’s sweet but a little strange.” She half heartedly jokes. “My night was fine, thank you. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Of course. Here, take this…” He straightens up, taking a few steps to get closer to her, and he smells the alcohol coming from her breath. It must’ve been a rough night because she hardly drinks.
Handing her the candle and keeping eye contact he whispers, “So you can see where you’re going. I’ll come get you tomorrow.”
Dean wipes away a fallen tear from her face with his thumb and kisses her cheek in that same spot.
So softly she murmurs, “Goodnight Dean.”
“Goodnight Fran.” He says with equal gentleness. With even more longing.
—
A/N: Please let me know what you think!! I edited this on four hours of sleep lol.
tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted (idk if yall wanted to be tagged but hopefully it's okay!)
*reads fanfiction with the most incredible description, most incredible inner monologue, most incredible dialog, most incredible pacing, most incredible world building, and just most incredible writing*
*looks at my own shrimpy writing skills*
*looks back at incredible fanfiction*
*blinks*
*shakes it with unyielding force*
"HOW DO I DO THAT?!?!?!??!?!!?"
I've been working on part 3 of Ten Years Gone I swear, I have this big exam coming up on tuesday that I've been studying for and if all goes well then I'll be back on my bullshit. BUT I'm revamping a previous harry styles fic that i began writing YEARS ago. I'm switching it to a Dean fic. I'm gunna try and edit it tonight and have it out by tomorrow!
Can you do a drabble for Number 67?
absolutely anything 4 u and them. esp bc i have NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT. I SWEAR. am just locking tf in to wrap up s1 before i start posting them again <3 i forgot this was in my drafts bc i thought it was buried in my inbox bc im a lil idiot ok. so sorry </3 pls take this as forgiveness.
this is also something canon that will happen eventually down the line, so u are all basically getting exclusive content rn hehehe.
the stanford cheer squad were incredible people, hosting a car wash to fundraise for the education of less fortunate children. you were incredible, and you knew it, having been the one to bring up the idea to the team captain yourself.
it was something you were passionate about, considering how hard you were working for your nursing degree, and how much of your own childhood was spent wishing for the same opportunities that the other kids got. that wish grew into a dream — pediatric nursing.
expectedly, the turnout was insane. people were so passionate about education for the youth of today. they were so passionate that they'd bring their freshly washed car back again into the open parking lot the team hosted it in.
hey, whatever you had to do, right? the money was racking in, and the pipe dream to help kids like you get more of a chance to get where you were without needing to sacrifice as much as you did was becoming a reality.
pour some sugar on me plays on the stereo propped on a foldout chair in the back. you were one of the sign girls, drawing the cars in from the campus streets and handling the cash intake.
adeline was on the other side of the tall sign. it was nice to have your sorority big sister cheering, too. you weren't yet close with a lot of the other girls, so having someone you knew you liked and that liked you made times like this, when the girls paired off to the assigned tasks, feel a lot less intimidating.
"lots of honks," she says idly, letting her arms and the sign fall in front of her, "but not a lot of people comin' in anymore."
you hum, pointing out a fancy black car a couple of miles away, just pulling into the parking lot. "they look like they'd be into a car wash."
adeline's eyes narrow in on where you're pointing, a little huff of laughter bubbling out of her mouth. "oh, the cardinal's two golden boys? sure."
surely that wasn't dean and taylor. adeline had an easier view, closer to the road they were driving on than you were by only a few feet, but you'd be able to recognize dean anywhere. surely that wasn't him, and his roommate, and that couldn't have been his car.
you watch it roll in — just in time to see the car jerk to the right in the direction of the car wash.
adeline's laugh brightens. "god, it is! of course they're comin' in." she turns over to you, eyebrows raised up. "you and dean are always in each other's orbit."
your face goes a little pink, and you let your arms fall now too to properly shoot her a glare. "shut up." you didn't even like dean like that. yeah, he was the first proper friend you'd made, if you didn't count the other two cheer girls you'd met during sorority rush. that didn't mean anything like what adeline implied. in fact, you'd tell her that. "taylor's prettier, anyways. don't you think?"
"taylor king is a pig." she rolls her eyes, a fond smile curling at the corner of her lips that gives way any irritation. "he's makin' his way through the cheer roster. don't let him put a cherry red notch in his belt."
the car slows to a stop outside of the giant makeshift sign entrance of the car wash. the driver's side window rolls down, and sure enough, you're met with dean winchester's pretty green eyes. "is it fifteen per car or per person?"
that was your proof that you and dean were not orbiting each other. no hello, no nice to see you; he was straight to the point around his friends. you just didn't seem to make the cut. "per car." you slip the sign between your knees, hand extended for the cash taylor was blatantly swinging in your direction. "though i could make it per person for you guys. because you're football."
"harsh," taylor interjects from the passenger seat, giving up on reaching across dean and tossing the loose bills. "oh no... now you have to bend down and pick them—" he's cut off by an elbow straight to the ribcage.
"ignore him." dean picks up the bills in his lap, handing them out to you. "i was askin' just so i could make him pay for me, too. he tried to kill us gettin' over here once he saw the sign."
taylor's face scrunches up in befuddlement, slapping dean over the forehead. "yeah i did. boobs, dean. fuckin' tits." he catches the elbow dean tries to reem him with again. "hell no was i letting this chance pass me by."
dean, to his credit, looks a little sheepish about all of this. you, to your credit, were very good at ignoring it. he was getting picked on enough, and you didn't want any excuse to start thinking that dean liked you enough to care about what you thought about him.
"drive on through," you say, bypassing dean's gaze to hold taylor's stare as you shove the wad of cash in your cropped white stanford tee. you expect it to break taylor's act, but all he does is break into a wolfish smile. taylor king may have been a pig, but he was so pretty.
dean inches forward, forcing the eye contact between the both of you to break. finally, a reprieve from the intensity that was the lineman and the quarterback's attention all at once.
short-lived relief, because taylor's ass is planted on the rolled down window on his door's frame, his head and shoulders visible above the top of the car. "how much for you to wash the car?" he shouts to you, his grin nearly ear to ear now.
you shake your head, laughing, your hands held up in surrender. "you offering to donate more?"
"babygirl, i'd donate a kidney for this."
adeline's eyes meet yours from her place at the edge of the ovehead sign. the whole point of the dynamic between big and little was that she was supposed to guide you. she'd done great so far, making the transition so much easier than it could have been.
you didn't want to be another notch on taylor's belt. you also didn't really want to test the line that existed between you and dean. but there were greater things than flimsy college relationships. a little extra money toward something more meaningful had its sacrifices, and you were more than willing to make them.
"fifty bucks and i'll wash this car all by myself," you finally answer, handing off your sign to kristen as you saunter up to the rest of the girls. kristen's protests are lost to you, and die off anyways when she realizes that neither of the boys in the newest car to join the lot of soapy ones are looking at her. they're looking at you. "extra soapy."
taylor visibly begins to fumble around in his varsity jacket pockets, but you're only paying attention to him in your peripheral vision. your eyes are back on dean, his expression unreadable.
"you're trouble," he mouths, shaking his head, the little dimples in his cheeks giving way to his amusement.
maybe he did care what you think. and maybe you cared what he thought, too. that's why you couldn't help but give into this, and also why you couldn't keep giving in after this. there had to be a line. there had to be something stable, or else everything would shatter.
you take the cash from taylor as you circle around dean's car and up to the speaker. you grab the ipod connected to it, flipping through the saved songs until you land on cherry pie by warrant.
it was hard to see if the line in the sand between you and dean was broken or crossed through the soapy water all over the windows and the windshield. it wasn't hard, though, to figure out which pair of eyes watched you the hardest through the haze of the glass.
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notes. cherry pov <3 hope u guys enjoyed PLS i missed the stanford!dean universe SOOOOO SOO SOOOO BADLY.
tags. @whyyouegg @sthefferrete @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @mccartneyqp @depressionbarbie2023 @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @honeyryewhiskey @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @reynas13 @momoewn @deanswidow @jasvtsc @figthoughts @beausling @sunsettsam @aileenunfiltered @samslvrgirl @globetrotter28 @urfavpisces95 @rubyvhs @hollywoodxrose @imsiriuslyreal @bluemerakis @angels-silhouette @tortureddarkstar @tristimith
Chat, I think I found Dean. (This is a ‘68, but it’s close enough!!!)
Rewatching supernatural and am on season 8. There’s no way Dean and Benny didn’t fuck in purgatory
"The Superbowl half time was bad it wasn't that hype or enjoyable" it wasn't for you. It was for black people. It wasn't meant to be a fun performance. It was meant to be political art.
Crying and puking, Google maps made the Gulf of Mexico say Gulf of America
only Kendrick could get tumblr talking about the super bowl
I have a harry styles fic that takes place during wwi and I’ve been thinking to myself lately, what if I rewrote to to be about dean?? I think it would flow a bit better
The revolution ‘bout to be televised, you picked the right time but the wrong guy.
The balls for Kendrick to utter this in front of him along with dissing Drake? Cinema? No, modern protest that’s recapturing decades of protest culture within music, specifically black music. Major props to Kendrick and I hope more are to follow
btw yes it is amazing to celebrate drake's ruin and being a hater etc etc but i want everyone to come away from tonight remembering that this is about far far more than one evil man.
everything about this performance was a celebration of the black american culture that drake commodifies. kendrick went on stage in the middle of the country's largest sporting event with trump in attendance and stated, very clearly, that black culture is not going anywhere.
"The revolution is about to be televised, you picked the right time but the wrong guy" - Kendrick Lamar, Half-time show 2025
