Imagine...Catching Dean Off Guard

Things Learned and Unlearned Masterlist

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Chapters linked under the cut:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

good idea — sirius black

Trying to get over your feelings for Sirius, you decide to bring a date to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party this year. But Sirius seems oddly angry about it… friends to lovers, jealous!sirius ♥

"You're bringing him? As a date?" 

To be honest, Sirius doesn't know why he's so irritated by this. Every year he gets invited, and every year he doesn't go to Slughorn's Christmas party because, frankly, it sounds boring as hell—a bunch of stuffed shirts bragging about themselves while stuffing their faces with party food—but now…now all of a sudden, he's feeling downright offended that you'd bring a date and not him.

It's stupid. But that doesn't change the fact that he's furious about it.

You look at him uncertainly, a little frown pulling your eyebrows together. Sirius kind of wants to smooth it out with his thumb, but that's probably not a good idea.

"Um...yeah?" you say, and your voice tilts up at the end like it's a question, and Sirius doesn't know if you're asking him or yourself, but he does not like it. "I mean, Slughorn said we could bring a plus-one, so... I'm bringing Ollie."

"Ollie," he repeats, derision dripping from the word like the name itself is rotten. Then, because he's bitter and a bit of an asshole, he adds, in the most disparaging tone he can muster, "Seriously? Ollie? The guy who once nearly exploded a classroom because he couldn't transfigure a knife and fork properly?"

Sirius didn't think your frown could get any deeper, but apparently it can, and now he feels kind of bad for putting it there. 

But then you scowl and cross your arms, and your lovely blue dress tugs at your lovely hips, which draws his eyes to your thighs and forces him to look away and think about Quidditch and essays on different varieties of unicorn blood and exploding potions.

"He wasn't going to explode anything," you snap. "The cauldron had a hairline crack. All he did was—you know what, I gotta go!"

You brush past him, and Sirius smells that delicious, honeyed fragrance you always wear, and he just…he just…

His hand snaps out and grabs your arm.

You stop, glancing back at him, and Sirius would normally never manhandle you like this, but now that he's doing it, he doesn't want to let go. You look so angry, though; your chest heaving with your quick breaths, your skin warm under his fingers, soft and plush.

But you've obviously had enough of whatever this is, because you raise your eyebrows and say flatly, "Let me go."

It feels like his hand doesn't want to obey him. "Sorry," he mutters, and it's sincere, but he doesn't release you. "I'm sorry. Just...what's so great about Ollie?"

"I like him."

"No you don't."

"What?"

Sirius blinks, trying to figure out what's coming out of his mouth. He just...he doesn't like this. The mere idea of you going out with Ollie makes his skin crawl. Not because he likes you or anything, no. You're pretty, yeah. And funny, and smart, and when he first met you, being your friend was the last thing on his mind, sure, but then he got to know you, and—fine. Maybe he does like you a little bit more than he probably should.

But you're way too good for him. You're certainly way too good for Ollie. 

"Ollie sucks," Sirius says. It's not an eloquent statement, but it's a true one. "He's boring. He's an asshole. You're..."

His words trail off as he stares at you. His eyes fall to your lips, lipstick-red and soft-looking and parted in surprise, and they're just right there, and maybe he could just…just once…

"I'm what?"

He kisses you. He can't help himself.

Sirius has kissed a lot of girls, but this...this is different.

One hand is still holding your arm, but the other comes up to touch your cheek, trace your jaw, skim down the side of your neck, feeling the way your pulse is pounding beneath your skin and under his fingertips as his mouth moves over yours. Your lips are soft, the little noise you make in the back of your throat even softer, and he wants to hear it again.

And again. And again.

Sirius breaks the kiss first.

You stare at him. Pupils blown wide. Lips red and glistening. "You kissed me."

Sirius brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

"I did."

"You...did?" Now you're sounding breathless. Like you can't quite catch your breath.

"I did." Sirius moves in closer, crowding you against the wall yet not quite touching you. "You didn't stop me."

For a moment, your gaze drops to his lips, and Sirius feels a surge of triumph. "What—what was that for?"

His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back. You smell like flowers. Like honey. Like something he wants to devour.

"Don't go to the party with Ollie."

It was, apparently, not the right thing to say.

You duck under his arm, and Sirius is so surprised, he doesn't manage to stop you from escaping.

"Don't kiss me just because you want to sabotage my date," you say, and boy, you sound angry. "Especially don't kiss me and then not tell me why."

"I wanted to kiss you."

"That's your excuse?"

"Is it not a good one?" 

Sirius is feeling slightly out of his depth here. He thought the kiss would be pretty self-explanatory. But apparently not. This hallway, with its tapestries and old portraits and suits of armor and half-dressed witches, is beginning to feel stifling.

He tries a different tactic. "I think about kissing you a lot."

"Stop."

"It's true."

If looks could kill, Sirius would be ashes on the ground right now.

"The first time I thought about it was after Potions," he says, pressing his advantage. You're listening, at least. And you haven't turned to leave yet. That has to mean something. "When you spilled that solution all over yourself and started laughing about it. You have the best laugh."

"Seriously—"

He steps closer. "And your mouth...fuck, it drives me crazy."

"Don't—"

He backs you up against the wall again. Now, he's touching you, one hand on your waist, feeling the way your body curves so nicely beneath his palm, the other splayed on the wall next to your head.

"Take Ollie to the party," he says. "See if I care. But you're going to spend the whole time thinking about this."

He leans in close, then pauses, mouth inches from yours, your breath mingling together. He feels you swallow, watches the way your pupils dilate.

Then, before he can change his mind, he dips his head and kisses you again. 

Harder this time. 

Less tentative. 

He wants to remember this kiss.

"Was that a good excuse?" he whispers when he pulls away.

Your mouth works soundlessly for a moment, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. Sirius wants to hear you say something, but the words aren't coming, so he tilts your chin up with his thumb and leans in.

"Are you thinking about it now?"

Your lips part, soft and silken, and you exhale a small puff of breath. "I hate you."

"You don't hate me," he says, his mouth still almost touching yours. You taste like honeyed tea. Like a cozy summer afternoon spent lounging on the grass. He could live in this feeling forever. He could die in it. "You're thinking about me. You're thinking about this. My hand on your waist."

He squeezes, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip.

"My lips on your neck."

He kisses the skin under your ear, then drags his mouth down the side of your neck until he reaches the curve where your shoulder begins. 

You make a soft sound; a moan, a sigh. Sirius can't really tell. But, fuck, does he want to hear it again.

He pulls away and waits for you to look at him, to really look at him. Your eyes are so lovely. And your face...he wants to memorize it.

"Don't take Ollie to the party." Sirius slides his hand down your arm until his fingers lace with yours. "Take me."

Well...it certainly feels like a good idea.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Heavily follows series timeline

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, poorly written smut, masturbation, allusions to abortion, medical blood draw, vomiting, allusions to suicide, minor canonical character death, child injury, pregnancy complications, illness, medical procedures, graphic descriptions of childbirth, allusions to child abuse

Chapter Moodboards by @dannyo000: Pg 1, Pg 2

Summary: Daryl met you while hunting to feed the group he saddled himself with at the quarry. It was just sex, no strings attached. Until it wasn’t. Strangers to friends to lovers. A bit of slow burn and angst.

•Chapter 1

•Chapter 2

•Chapter 3

•Chapter 4

•Chapter 5

•Chapter 6

•Chapter 7

•Chapter 8

•Chapter 9

•Chapter 10

•Chapter 11

•Chapter 12

•Chapter 13

•Chapter 14

•Chapter 15

•Chapter 16

•Chapter 17

•Chapter 18

•Chapter 19

•Chapter 20

•Chapter 21

•Chapter 22

•Chapter 23

•Chapter 24

•Chapter 25

•Chapter 26

•Chapter 27

•Chapter 28

•Chapter 29

•Chapter 30

•Chapter 31

•Chapter 32

•Chapter 33

•Chapter 34

•Chapter 35

•Chapter 36

•Chapter 37

•Chapter 38……in progress

Gorgeous moodboard by the amazing @dustbunniess ❤️

Beautiful fanart by a lovely (my favorite) anon 🩵

(updated Oct 2024) I DON’T MAINTAIN TAGLISTS! SORRY, LOVES! All content here is Daryl, with exception of the Wicked Wednesday feature for Negan. Follow and turn notifications for the blog on if you want to make sure you don’t miss anything! :) IMPORTANT NOTE: Although I do not own the characters or specific events depicted in The Walking Dead, this blog contains transformative fan fiction protected under the Fair Use Act and I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION for it to be copied and pasted, posted on other platforms or accounts, shared through videos or audio or screenshots, etc. without the express written permission of myself. Sharing can be done with the ‘reblog’ button or sharing a direct link to my original work ONLY. Please ask permission to use any of my work as “inspiration” for your own fictional creations. I retain the right to refuse any requests and retain all rights to the work here under copyright 2025.  Requests are OPEN! Send them to my Ask box! Not all requests will be fulfilled. Commissions are OPEN! DM me for details to commission a fic. Price list here. You can also support me by buying me a coffee (or the dogs some kibble!)

Weiterlesen

『 roaring through time 』

꧁ paring: (dean winchester x fem!reader)

꧁ summary: trapped in the 1920s with no clear way home, dean and the reader find themselves tangled in a world of smoky speakeasies, dangerous secrets, and shifting timelines. but as the past pulls them in, so does something else—something neither of them is ready to face. time is slipping through their fingers, and if they’re not careful, they might lose more than just their way back.

꧁ warnings: eventual smut, jealous!dean, jealous!reader, slow burn!, cussing, men in the 1920s, smoking, drinking, gore, violence, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, prohibition, protective!dean, protective!reader, I will add more as I write.

꧁ word count: 32.3k

『 chapter index 』

꧁ chapter one

꧁ chapter two

꧁ chapter three

꧁ chapter four

꧁ chapter five ❤︎ smut

꧁ chapter six new!

This series will contain smut. I will put a warning when it comes time but I am not responsible for your reading consumption. (mdni) Minors do not interact with the chapter that contains smut.

『 sneak peak 』

The bunker was suddenly gone. You were standing in the middle of a street bustling with old-fashioned cars, the scent of cigarette smoke and perfume thick in the air.

Dean had grabbed your arm immediately, his grip tight as his body tensed like he was expecting a fight. “Tell me you’re seein’ what I’m seein’,” he muttered, his voice tight.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. The people around you were dressed like they’d walked straight out of The Great Gatsby. Men in suits and fedoras, women in beaded dresses, their lips painted a deep red. A streetcar rattled past, kicking up dust, and a newspaper boy hollered from the corner, “Extra, extra! Read all about it—Prohibition raids downtown!”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh, hell no,” Dean muttered.

You turned to him, your own panic reflected in his wide green eyes. “Dean… I think we just got zapped into the 1920s.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me.”

author’s note: well, here’s another series I’m starting up! this was supposed to be a oneshot but then the ideas kept coming and coming until my oneshot had 16k words…yeah…ANYWAYS… get ready for speakeasy’s, dean in 1920s attire, and lots of tension!

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

Chapter List for Get Off The Highway

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, 18+ contains smut (not sure about that one, never wrote it before), pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

[Starts season 8] You have been hunting the supernatural for a few years now. You got into it by accident. A camping night gone wrong when you were in college. You had barely escaped but some of your friends had not. And since then, you had despised camping, you were terrified of Wendigos, and you jumped right into the hunting world. In need of help during a vampire case, you turned to fellow hunter; Garth Fitzgerald; and asked for help. He sent it to you in the form of the infamous Winchester brothers. And one seems to have a problem with you. You just can’t figure out why.

List of Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 (Coming Soon)

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Masterlist

* = implied smut or sexual tension

**= 18+/smut/spice

Taglist -> Click here to add

Original stories:

Buckle Bunny Blues

Jensen Ackles

Click here for Jensen Ackles Fanfiction

Supernatural

Click here for Dean Winchester Fanfiction

Sam winchester Tides of Temptation **

Heat of the moment ** Curves

Castiel Forest Green eyes Series -> Complete Basic Instinct ** Misha Collins A new beginning **

The boys

Click here for Soldier Boy Fanfiction

Billy Butcher A light in the darkness Part 1 ** A light in the darkness Part 2 **

Big Sky

Beau Arlen Stormy nights ** Sheriff's Bargain - NEW Series

Blind date**

Ten Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly Coral and Clover Priestly serie: Spikes pt 1 The beach city reunion pt2 Taking it slow pt3

Tracker

Russell

The plan The plan part 2

Kiss and make up

Walker

Only you **

Dawsons Creek

Guiding Light  **

Jack Dufry

Family Business *

ACOTAR

The shadowsinger - Serie - Complete Warrior Heart ** Warrior Heart part 2 **

Solstice gift ** Solstice gift - part 2**

Healing waters - Serie - NEW

Lose Control ** Lose Control Pt 2 ** Lose Control pt 3 **

Shadows and songs 1/3 Shadows and songs 2/3 Shadows and songs 3/3 **

the vhs tape is worn from overuse. lines flicker through the screen, static catching in places where it's been paused too long, rewound too many times. the colors are a little off, the film grain thick, but it doesn’t matter. dean knows every inch of it. the castle set, the way the cheap fabric of the princess’s dress pools around her, the high, breathy way she speaks—somewhere between innocence and temptation, so sugary sweet it sticks to his brain like candy.

it’s embarrassing, really. a grown man, obsessed with a shitty porno from the ‘80s. he can’t even remember when he first found it, only that it’s been with him for years, a quiet little vice, something to keep tucked away when he’s alone. the princess, all doe-eyed and demure, looking up through her lashes while she spreads herself open, letting her “knight” claim her.

but now he’s got you. a real, living, breathing girl who’s already his, his girlfriend. and that changes everything.

the idea starts gnawing at him one night when he’s watching it again, long after you’ve gone to sleep. he tries to hold it back at first. it’s too much to ask. too weird. but the thought gets its claws in him, deep, sinking past the shame and right into his need:

you could be her. you’d be absolutely better.

so he waits. waits until he’s worked up the nerve, until he can bring it up without stammering over his words like a desperate idiot. it’s late when he finally does it. you’re curled up next to him, half watching something on tv, and he clears his throat.

“hey, uh,” he starts, shifting a little. his palms are sweaty. fuck. “i been thinkin’ about something.”

you glance up at him, waiting. he rubs the back of his neck, hesitating.

“it’s—fuck, okay, just hear me out, alright?” he sighs, then barrels through before he can lose his nerve. “there’s this tape i got. old one. been watchin’ it for years. it’s, uh… it’s a porno. but not just any porno, it’s—jesus, this is fuckin’ embarrassing—it’s this princess thing. real corny. and i just—i kept thinkin’, since you’re already my girl, since you already look so goddamn good all the time…” he trails off, meeting your eyes, and then finally just says it. “would you dress up for me? let me record you, playin’ along?”

he braces himself for laughter, for teasing, but you don’t do either. you just tip your head, thoughtful, lips pursed like you’re actually considering it. then, after a beat, you smirk.

“so you want me to be your little princess?”

his cock twitches. he swallows hard. “yeah. yeah, i do.”

it takes a few days to get everything together. the dress is easy—a cheap costume from some thrift store, layers of satiny fabric and lace. the rest is just details. a little gold circlet for your head, a sheer white slip underneath.

when you step out wearing it, dean has to sit down. hard.

“holy,” he breathes.

you do a slow turn, the skirt fanning out around you. “you like it?”

his grip tightens on the camera. “yeah, sweetheart. i fuckin’ love it.” he hits record. the red light glows. you give him a coy little smile, slipping into character with ease.

“oh, brave knight,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest. “i’m ever so lonely in my tower. won’t you come keep me company?”

his throat goes dry. “Jesus Christ.”

you giggle. you fucking giggle, and it’s exactly right, that breathy, sweet little sound. you step closer, letting your fingers trail down the bodice of your dress.

“or perhaps,” you murmur, eyes big and wide, “you’d like me to show you how grateful i am for your protection?”

dean groans. shifts in his seat, adjusting the camera. “you keep talkin’ like that, baby, ‘m not gonna be able to hold this thing steady.”

you pout, tilting your head. “but i want to be good for you.”

his cock throbs. “yeah? then why don’t you show me, princess?”

your hands move to the laces of your dress. you start slow, pulling them loose with delicate fingers, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. his breathing gets heavier. the camera stays trained on you, capturing every second.

the dress slips down, revealing the thin white slip underneath. your nipples are already hard, visible through the sheer fabric. you drag your hands down your own body, fingers grazing over them, and dean has to bite back a groan.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re perfect.”

you smile, coy and teasing. “you’re staring, my knight.”

“‘course i am,” he says. “this is all for me, ain’t it?”

you nod. your fingers dip lower, skimming over your stomach, then down between your legs. you let out the softest little sigh, barely touching yourself yet.

dean adjusts the camera, making sure he can see everything. “that’s it, sweetheart. keep goin’.”

you drag your fingers down the filmy slip, teasing yourself just the way you know he likes. slow, delicate, like you’re too shy to be doing this, like you’re some blushing, untouched princess in a candlelit chamber, desperate for her knight’s attention but too innocent to ask for it properly.

dean knows better. he knows you, knows how filthy you can be when you want to be, but fuck if you aren’t selling this performance so well it’s making his head spin.

he adjusts the camera in his grip, making sure the frame catches everything. your body, half-shrouded in the thin white slip, the golden circlet in your hair catching the light, your mouth parting in soft little sighs as your fingers trace over your own skin.

"that’s it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "real slow, just like that. let me see how bad you want it."

you whimper, breath hitching as you let your fingers brush between your thighs, not slipping under the fabric just yet, just teasing, a soft little gasp escaping your lips like you're surprised by your own need.

"oh," you whisper, blinking up at him, lashes fluttering. "sir knight, i—i shouldn't—"

"yeah, you should," he says, voice tight. "go on, princess. show me."

your lips tremble like you’re hesitant, like you need him to guide you, but when your fingers slip under the slip, pressing lightly over your soaked panties, the sound you make is pure sin. dean nearly drops the fucking camera.

"fuck," he breathes, adjusting the focus to capture the way your hips tilt into your own touch, the soft, helpless little movements. "you know what you're doin', don't you?"

your breath hitches. "no," you lie, shaking your head. "i just—i feel so warm, sir knight, and i don’t understand—"

"bullshit," he mutters, shifting in his seat, his jeans unbearably tight now. "you’re fuckin’ drippin' for me, princess, don’t play dumb."

your cheeks flush deeper, the perfect picture of feigned innocence, but your fingers press harder between your thighs, rubbing yourself through the damp lace of your panties.

"does it please you?" you ask, voice breathy and sweet, a perfect princess desperate for her protector's approval.

dean groans, his grip on the camera tightening. "you got no fuckin’ idea."

your other hand skims up your body, tracing over your collarbone before slipping one strap of the slip down, baring your shoulder. you sigh, tilting your head as if you're reveling in your own touch.

"i feel strange," you murmur, rubbing slow, teasing circles over yourself, keeping your eyes locked on his. "like i need something…but i don’t know what."

"yeah, you do," he mutters. "you know exactly what you need, sweetheart."

you let out the softest whimper, eyes glassy, lips parted, fingers moving a little faster.

"i wish you would help me," you whisper, voice trembling with need.

dean curses under his breath, shifting again, barely keeping the camera steady. "fuck, baby, you’re killin’ me."

"am i?" you blink at him, the tiniest pout forming on your lips. "but i just want to be good for you. i want to make you proud."

his jaw clenches. "you already are, princess. Jesus Christ, you already are."

you moan, a quiet, desperate sound as you slip your fingers under the lace of your panties, rubbing yourself properly now, gasping at the sensation.

dean’s breath shudders. "fuck, sweetheart. keep goin’. don't stop."

you whimper again, fingers moving slick and slow, hips rocking subtly as you keep your gaze locked on his.

"do you like watching me, sir knight?"

his grip on the camera is white-knuckle tight. "best fuckin’ thing i ever seen, baby."

you sigh, biting your lip, pleasure building as your fingers work yourself open. "i wish it was you touching me," you admit, voice barely more than a whimper.

dean groans, shifting in his seat, his own restraint unraveling by the second. "soon, sweetheart," he promises. "but right now, i wanna see you cum for me."

your breath catches, your fingers pressing deeper, your body arching—so close, so desperate—and dean captures every second of it, the tape rolling, the moment burned into film forever.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah

title: vhs recording