Soo Dean Winchester...

may the fourth be with you or whatever they say

This is the closest I’ll ever be to Jensen (I’m three hours away from Austin)

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after a night out ࿓ best friend’s dad!jensen

intro to bsf!dad!jensen .ᐟ

summary: jensen catches you tipsy in his kitchen after a night out with your friends.

warnings: none tbh, yearning, teasing, soft touches, reader is tipsy, mention of kissing others (bsf!dad!jensen x reader)

✰ ༢ུ࿓

it had been a long night of drinking, dancing, kissing pretty boys against the sticky walls of the nightclub, and feeling absolutely nothing as their wandering hands groped and squeezed at your body.

a typical night out… to say the least.

your regular spot—the beanbag on the floor of your best friend’s room, accompanied by the various pillows and blankets—felt off. you were tossing and turning, overheating and dehydrated from all the alcohol, and overstimulated from your pyjamas twisting around your body and your unruly hair getting in your face.

you stood up with a quiet yet drunken huff of annoyance, rising to your feet in the darkness of the room, your best friend’s quiet snores filling the otherwise silent space. you closed your eyes for a moment, your head spinning a little as you found your bearings.

you managed to stumble out into the dim light of the hallway, your footfalls heavy on the wooden floor, highlighted by the silver moonlight peeking in from the windows. your feet led you down the familiar path to the kitchen. it was dark and silent, apart from the clock ticking on the wall.

you felt at ease just existing in the heavy silence of the night. your eyes squeezed shut in protest as you flicked on the overhead light, and a quiet groan escaped your throat, cutting through the quietude. you drunkenly rubbed your tired eyes, smearing the leftover mascara you’d failed to completely remove barely an hour ago.

after a moment, you stepped further onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor and swung open the cabinet filled with the drinking glasses, grabbing one.

“oh.”

you jumped at the sudden voice behind you, your body flinching. you turned around. jensen stood in the doorway with a lazy smile spread across his face, his hair tousled, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black shirt that clung to the muscled expanse of his shoulders and arms. goddamn, that sight was going to be burned into your brain until the end of time.

“it’s you,” he commented quietly, taking in your appearance at the late hour, letting his gaze fall down your body before meeting your eyes. “you look a mess, sweetheart.”

you couldn’t help your lips from tugging into a reluctant, yet amused smile, or the way your cheeks heated up at his playful jab—exacerbated by the alcohol still flowing through your system. the combination made your cheeks aglow, and you lowered your head in embarrassment, trying to save face under his fixated gaze.

“feel even better,” you muttered jokingly in return, your voice hoarse from pounding back straight liquor over the course of your night out. you turned back towards the sink to fill up your glass, still avoiding his eyes, though you could feel them piercing into your back.

a small sound of amusement came from low in jensen’s throat. he stepped towards you, watching as you shut off the water. “told you girls not to drink so much… but you never listen to me,” he chuckled softly, the sound gentle but laced with that teasing undertone you’d grown so used to.

you sipped your water as you turned to face him once again and took a moment to stare at him, trying to find a quick response in the depths of your tipsy brain. however, you realised you’d been silent probably a fraction too long as the room filled with an awkward and undeniable tension, the only sound tick tick tick from the clock and the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

jensen shifted on his feet and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, basking in the discomfort radiating off of you. his green eyes bored into you, studying you with an almost calculated stare, waiting to see how you’d respond to his playful attempt at displaying his “authority” over you.

“didn’t drink too much,” you finally replied, leaning against the counter opposite him, trying to appear nonchalant, like your heart wasn’t racing from just his presence alone. you took another sip of your water, watching his smile quirk into a small smirk.

“oh, yeah?” he asked, his brows raising as he watched you. he tilted his head, the gesture challenging, yet filled with jest. 

his gaze shrunk you down, stripping you of all the defences you’d tried so hard to build up over the years since you first developed your stupid crush. you felt like he could see right through you, and you didn’t know why you weren’t completely mortified by that.

you shifted your weight on your feet and cleared your throat. “yeah,” you offered back with a shrug, trying to keep up your bravado of indifference.

“then what’s with the…“ jensen trailed off, raising a hand and gesturing to his face.

“what?” you scoffed out in a smile, now crossing your arms—a little in defence, and maybe a little in defiance.

“your eyes, little lady. y’got makeup all smudged under them, looks like you got punched in the eye. there’s no one i need to go out and knock on their ass for hitting my girl is there?” he smirked, this time not so subtly, letting his words linger in the air as that fucking expression shot straight down to your core. his girl. damn right.

your hands rubbed under your eyes after you’d placed your glass down, your heart thumping against your ribcage as you tried to wipe away the black smears. “no,” you huffed with a smile, “no fighting needed, jensen.”

“good,” he murmured, stepping towards you, “i’d be sad if someone was slinging fists your way, honey. y’too sweet to be gettin’ into fights.”

you blinked up at him, dropping your hands as he approached; your body language was open to him, welcoming his proximity as he neared closer.

“wouldn’t want to see you hurt. i’d hate that,” he continued, his voice still a soft murmur. he raised his hand, letting it linger just a centimetre from your skin, hesitating for a moment, before finally making contact. his thumb gently rubbed at the stubborn mascara under one of your eyes, his palm resting on your cheek. the feeling of his skin against yours was searing, setting the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. your breath caught in your throat for a moment; his touch felt good, like it belonged there.

your eyelids fluttered shut, silently submitting to his touch, and you felt his gaze deepen. it was intense and all-consuming, kind of like standing under a spotlight, but it was gentle at the same time, like it was one you’d been under a thousand times.

“mmm,” jensen hummed, “my messy girl.” his quietly spoken words made your heartbeat stutter. his. it’s like he knew exactly how to take you apart without even trying. the butterflies grew more rampant in your stomach, his words forcing goosebumps to grow on your skin. “at least this shows you had fun tonight though, right?”

your eyes flickered open, blinking up to meet his. your eyes locked, and his smile grew, making a warmth bloom in your chest. jensen’s thumb stilled under your eye, but he left his hand cupped against your cheek, the heat between your skin sending tingles down your spine, straight to your core. you had to fight off the urge to turn and place a kiss on his palm, or better yet, take his thumb into your mouth.

“yeah, had a lot of fun tonight…” you muttered with a soft smile, letting your eyes dance between his green irises, so deep and soulful you could just drown in them if he’d let you.

“yeah?” he asked, letting his hand slip down to grasp the side of your jaw. he rubbed his thumb along your cheek, his eyes sparkling with mirth, drinking you in, as you tried to not physically react to his touch. 

“yeah.”

“did you kiss any boys?”

you paused, your whole body tensing, completely thrown off by his question. you tried to not let the surprise show on your face, but jensen could see right through you.

“s’alright if you did, baby. you’re a pretty girl. lots of boys’d be lining up for a kiss, i’d imagine,” he purred out his words, and you felt like you could just melt right then and there.

your throat bobbed as you swallowed down the words you wanted to say. no boy would ever beat you, jensen. i want you first in line. every time.

instead, your smile grew sheepish, and your eyes darted away for a moment, fighting off the blush from staining your cheeks. an awkward chuckle bubbled up your throat, an attempt to diffuse the tension he’d built between you.

“umm,” you began, “yeah, i— i kissed a boy… or two.” your eyes met his once again, falling back into the trap of his unwavering stare. you searched his face, your heart beating as you waited for a response. you felt guilty. why did you feel guilty?

you caught the way the corner of his lip twitched, threatening to curl ever so subtly at your words, and the guilt intensified tenfold in your chest. why did you admit that to him? why didn’t you just lie?

“yeah?” he asked, letting his face fall back into a neutrally intrigued expression, guarded almost. “did you like it?”

your brows pinched together. 

“like what?” you asked, part of you hoping he’d just drop it. you didn’t think you could keep your face from flushing any longer; you didn’t want him to see you so flustered over a silly question.

“getting kissed?” he clarified, the words falling from his mouth like it was a totally normal thing to be asking you.

“i— it was—” you mumbled, trying to find the words. “yeah, it was… alright. i was drunk,” you finally concluded, hoping to cease any misinterpretations of your prior actions that night. they were just kisses; you were drunk.

“just alright?” jensen asked, tilting his head once again, still caressing your cheek. “you don’t need to lie to me, sweetheart. you can kiss all the boys you want and enjoy it if you like.”

“i know,” you said a little too quickly out of panic. you mentally smacked yourself when you saw his eyes narrow the slightest bit. fuck. that’s not what you meant to say. i don’t want to kiss anyone but you, jensen. only you.

“mm, doesn’t mean you should.”

the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock trickled out into the background, a new silence swallowing you whole. you stood staring up at him, your tipsy brain trying to scramble through the mess his words left in your head. doesn’t mean you should.

“i— it was just—” you sputtered out, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights.

jensen shook his head and gently patted your cheek. “just be careful, sweetheart. want you looking after yourself f’me. don’t want a boy breaking that sweet little heart of yours. it’s too innocent, too good for this world. you deserve the best, you know that?”

your brain felt like it was seconds away from exploding and seeping out of your ears. you struggled to make sense of his words, trying to search between them as the silent seconds flew by.

but then suddenly

out of nowhere

he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. your eyes instantly fell closed, the breath from your lungs stilling for a moment as the world around you slowed down. this… this was new.

“you get to bed, baby. i’ll cook you girls a big breakfast tomorrow. the ackles’ hangover special,” he mumbled against your hair, his hand still holding your face.

you hummed; you didn’t trust yourself with words.

“sleep tight, sweet girl.” jensen finally pulled back and shot you a smile, the type of smile that makes your knees go weak. every. single. time.

all you could do was nod, your eyes grasping onto the micro-expressions on his face. god, he was so hard to read, so guarded when he wanted to be, so confusing.

jensen nodded in return. he took a moment to let the sight of you sink in, really sink in, before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door with a smile on his face.

your heart sunk to your stomach as the distance between you increased, missing the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his lips against your hair, his body cocooning yours against the counter, the smell of his cologne that you breathed in like it was fresh air.

a sigh escaped your lungs as he finally disappeared into the hallway. your legs felt like jelly, and that bloody aching sensation had grown between your thighs.

it was going to be a long night.

fig yaps: this felt… awfully restrained compared to my last post,, BUT i wanted to establish their dynamics before they go crazy sucking and fucking !!! anywhoooo thank u for the love on the og post !!! i feel like my inbox has been flooded, and all the kind (also kinda batshit) comments have made my week and made me so eager to write !!! love y’all freaks PLS keep sending me ideas i wanna start writing actual smut for this delicious man i just gotta plan it out omg

also thank u for 1.6k too !!!!!! 🤯

feedback and reblogs are welcome and encouraged as always! 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 @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added / removed (zero judgment) !

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

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