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It’s scented… right?

It’s Scented… Right?

Summary: The boys help shop for all you feminine products while you are away

Word count: 0.6k

A/n: I really just needed to write, so, please injoy :)

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The buggy’s front wheel spun in quick circles, the squeaking irritating Dean the deeper into the store he went. Sam had two hands on the handle bar, leading them down various isles as he grabbed what was on the grocery list. 

“Did you get the milk?” He asked, glancing at his brother as he placed a bag of chips into the buggy. 

“No.”

“Why not? We were just at the dairy isle.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders eyes glazing across the chips. “I thought you grabbed it.”

A huff left Sam’s lips. “Yes, because I’d grab the milk after I told you to do it.”

“I’ll get it later, ok.” Dean told him, snatching the grocery list from his brothers hands. “What do we need to grab next?”

“Tampons and a couple pads.” Sam answered, having memorized the list already. 

“Tampons and pads? I thought she had that.”

“No, Dean.” Sam muttered leading him and his brother to the feminine isle. “If she had it we wouldn’t need to get more.”

Cas made his way towards the brothers a case of beer in hand as he placed it into the cart. “All they had was light beer, so I hope that’s alright.” He told them, trailing next to the buggy. 

“That’s fine, Cas.” Sam told the angel. 

“Yeah, for you.” Dean mumbled, shooting a small glare at the alcohol. 

Taking another turn, the three wandered down the isle stacked full of female products. Each stoping beside one another as they took in all of the many items that filled the shelves. 

You’d asked Sam specifically to grab your feminine items, seeing as he’s the only one who’d lived with a woman before. It would have been a whole lot easier than asking Dean or Cas to do it. 

“So,” Dean began arms crossing over one another as he stood before the various pads and tampons. “What does she need? Yellow? Green? Purple?”

Sam glanced up from the list to look at his brother. “What are you talking about? Why are you naming colors?”

He nodded towards a tampon box. “They all have different colors, Sam, kinda like fruits.”

Cas wondered over to Deans side, his eyebrows furrowing. “These things have taste?” He asked, picking up a box to look at it more closely. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

Sam shot a glare at his older brother. “What?” Dean asked.

“Why would it be flavored?” He asked trying to reason with the man. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, taking the box back from Cas and placing it back in the shelf. “Some guys like that kind of stuff, Sam.”

Sam scrunched his nose in disgust. “That’s disgusting.”

“But it’s not flavored, Cas,” Dean began, turning towards the angel. “Because it’s scented.”

“Scented?” 

“Dear god.” Sam mumbled to himself, running a hand across his face. 

Dean nodded, gesturing to the rows of boxes. “Of course they’re scented. Because blood has smell, and so girls have to cover it up with a better smell.” He snapped his fingers, an example coming to mind. “Like perfume.”

Cas let out a small hum, his attention returning back to the products. Dean glanced over at his brother, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “It’s scented… right?”

Sam shook his head. 

A small ‘oh’ fell from the older man’s lips, face ever so slightly heating up on how wrong he truly was. Facing the shelves one last time Dean had begun to pluck and pull a good many boxes from their previous spots. “We’ll just get one of everything,” he told the others, placing the items into the cart. “Better safe than sorry.”

A sigh fell from Sam’s lips as he watched both Dean and Cas place multiple box’s into the buggy, before wandering away to the desserts isle. Leaving the poor man with the over loaded cart full of felmine products. 

“I’ll handle it, y/n,” he mumbled to himself, trailing after his brother and angelic friend. “I know what to get you, trust me.” Sam leaned his upper body against the handle bar, glancing over all the items that they’d gathered. “We won’t need to get more for another year or so now.”


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Baby face

Baby Face

Summary: You start to get upset when Dean decides to shave off his beard

Word count: 0.5k

A/n: Live. Laugh. Love. Bearded Jensen.

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Your hands gently moved through Deans beard, the small hairs causing you fingers to tingle from the sensation. His own hands rested on your thighs, holding you gently as you sat on top of the bathroom counter. 

“Princess?” He called, watching as your eyes drifted from the hair on his face to his relaxed ones. “Are you gonna start or are you gonna wait for it to grow longer?”

A small pout found its way onto your mouth, “I don’t want to get rid of your beard.” You whined, having half the mindset to hide the razor from the taller man. “I’d rather watch it grow.”

Dean mirrored your pout, albeit mockingly. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves, princess. It has to go.”

“Ok. But what if we just leave a bit of stubble instead?” 

“No.”

“But, it’s attractive.” You told him, hoping that’d he change his mind and keep it for just a little longer. 

“To bad.” He replied, stepping from between your legs. Taking a bottle of shaving cream and the razor from your grasp. “It’s starting to itch.”

You let out a small huff, slightly mesmerized at how he gently applied the shaving cream to the lower portion of his face. The fluffy white sudes mixing into the small strands thickly and throughly 

Dean wetted the blade beneath the warm faucet, giving it a good shake to take off all excess water. Fingers gently pressed against his chin, he began to shave against the grain of his beard. You felt your stomach drop as you watched the foam disappear and just the smooth skin left in its place. 

“What if you just keep a mustache?” You asked, leg coming up to your chest as you rested your chin on top. 

Dean stopped his movements, glancing at you through the mirror. “Absolutely not.”

A scoff came from your mouth. “Why not? Do you think you’d look like hitler or something?”

“I wasn’t thinking that, but now I am.” He told you, continuing to shave away at his facial hair. 

“So, no?”

“No.”

You shook your head, sliding off the counter as you made your way behind the older man. Placing both arms around his torso you rested your cheek against his back, listening for his heartbeat through the back of his shirt. 

“Princess,” Dean called, not stopping his movements. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t watch you ruin your face.” You told him bluntly, turning your face to bury it in his shirt. 

A chuckle left his lips, giving a smile glance over his shoulder to look at you. “Ruining my face, huh?” You nodded. “You know it’ll grow back, just like last time and the time before that.”

“But it’s torture.” You wined. “It’s like I’m dating a child when your done.”

Dean gave a small nod of his head, knowing that you’d either be talking about his childish behaviors or the baby face he’d get after shaving. Though it could just be both. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will it make you feel better if next time I let you shave me?” He asked, dragging the blade over the last strip of foam from his face. 

You nodded you head just a tad, “A little, yes.”

“Okay, princess.” He wiped any remaining shaving cream from his face before turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “We’ll do that.”


Tags

you trying to distract the vampire from the fact that Sam and Dean are killing the rest of its nest: So… does menstrual blood taste any different than vein blood?

the vampire who’s been listening to you for the past half hour: Please. For the love of God. SHUT UP!

the vamp:

You Trying To Distract The Vampire From The Fact That Sam And Dean Are Killing The Rest Of Its Nest:

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Privacy privilege

Privacy Privilege

Summary: Dean had started to invade your privacy more often after a hunt

Word count: 0.8k

A/n: I had some fun writing protective Dean in this one

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The last hunt was too much of a close call for Dean. 

It’s been a simple vampire case, a in and out kind of deal. But, when you slipped up a little and were almost a vamps blood bag, he felt a need to protect you immediately afterwards. The thought of you ending up dead while on a hunt with him caused an itch in the back of his brain. Something he needed to get rid of or at least settle down. 

So, he began to follow you around.

It started out simple enough, sitting on the same booth as you at a restaurant, watching you through the rear view mirror on a long drive. And, recently making you share the same bed as he did. The feeling of your body safely tucked against his calmed him. 

But, then the more hunts you went the more worried he got. 

The feeling that something would happen to you if he wasn’t around caused him to panic and start to hang around you more than ever. 

What started as a simple watching you from the corner of his eye quickly turning into needing to be right next to you 24/7. He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, eyes darting around to find any potential danger. 

You’d spoken to Sam about Deans behavior, and he had agreed that it was new and different than what he normally is. But, according to Sam, Dean is naturally a protector at heart. Probably coming from being the oldest and having to take care of his little brother all the time. 

But, still, you appreciated Dean trying to protect you, but he had started to invade you privacy. 

Often not leaving you alone when you’d really need to be. Kinda like right now. You were taking a shower in the motels bathroom, the water cascading down your body when Deans humming kept on bringing you out of your peaceful state. 

You didn’t really know when he entered the bathroom, but when he did you know it was no use in trying to kick him out. He sat patiently on the toilet, the lid down so that he wouldn’t ache from sitting in the same spot for twenty minutes. 

A small magazine rested in his hands, the sound of the turning papers mixing with his humming caused you to finally stick your head past the shower curtain. 

“Dean.” You called, in the nicest voice you could muster. Slowly growing tired of his protective attitude. 

“Yes, princess?” He asked, the magazine he’d been reading tossed onto the counter as he focused solely in you.  

Pasting a quick smile on your face, you pulled the curtain closer to your naked body. “Could I have just a couple minutes to myself in here?”

Dean furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Because, it’s kinda weird how I’m naked in here while your out there fully clothed and humming a rock song.” You stated, hoping that telling him you were slightly uncomfortable with the situation would be enough for him to leave the bathroom. 

“Would you like me to join you then, so you’d feel less weird about this?” He asked, standing from the toilet seat and making his way towards you, his flannel quickly coming off and into the piles of clothes you’d already made. 

“No! No, Dean.” You started to shout, more than likely grabbing both your neighbors and Sam’s attention whilst doing so. “Put the flannel back on and get out!”

“Why?” He asked confused. “I’d have my back turned the entire time, or if you want I could even help you shower-“

Dean stopped talking when a soft but wet object connected with his face. “Did- did you throw a loofah at me?”

“Yes, and I’ll throw something harder next time if you don’t get out of here!” Your face was hot, and not just from the boiling shower you were taking but because Dean freaking Winchester was trying to hope in the shower with you like it was a normal thing. 

He held up his hands, reluctantly making his way to the bathroom door. “Look I get that it’s weird, but it’ll help protect you.”

“Dean, I’m not going to die in the freaking shower.”

“Who knows, it’s a strange world, but I’ll be here if it happens and I’ll be able to-“ His eyes widened as you made an attempt to throw your soap bar at him, missing him by a hair and sending him running out of the bathroom. 

A breathy laugh came from one of the beds, facing the noise he saw his brother with newspaper articles and his computer laid out in front of him. “I told you she would not have appreciated you going in there.” Sam told his older brother, a smug smile playing in his lips as he watched Dean taking a seat at the small table. 

“Shut up.” He told him, now waiting for you to leave the bathroom so that he could be glued to your hip once more. “She’s gonna thank me one day.”

“Yeah, but definitely not any time soon.”


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Dawg gone-it!

Dawg Gone-it!

Summary: Dean isn’t too keen on how close you and a stray have been getting lately

Word count: 0.6k

A/n: NO HATE AGAINST ANY DOGS!!! We love dogs, and Dean loves dogs, just not the one you’ve been getting close to

A/a/n: Y’all I just got done with the first set of workouts this summer, for school. And OMG it literally killed me, I don’t know if I can do this all summer.

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Dean had always loved dogs. Ever since he was a little boy all the way to the burly man that he currently was, his heart had always had a special spot for the canines. 

Until, you had rescued one from a hunt. 

A week. Minimum. That’s how long you and the brothers had agreed to keep the animal until you found a rightful shelter. Seven days with man’s best friend, living and traveling in the back of the impala with them. 

A simple week, Dean would’ve loved that.

Yes, he would’ve loved it, if all your attention hadn’t stayed solely on the dog. 

It was everyday that you’d get up early and walk the animal, Sam often joining in his jogs before he would take a different route. And, Dean was fine with you getting the dog some exercise, what he didn’t like was you leaving the warmth of the motel bed to do so. Leaving Dean yearning for the feel of your body in the early mornings. 

And it wasn’t even just that. No, no, no. You’d had given the dog your leftovers one afternoon. Right in front of Dean too. Knowing well enough that whatever you didn’t eat, you’d always hand over to Dean. 

But, it shouldn’t bother him, no. Dean could go with out your morning embrace, your leftover Chinese that Dean tried his hardest not to tell you that he was waiting patiently for. 

No, what really bothered him more than anything, was when you called that dog your ‘pretty boy’.

Dean was your pretty boy. It was the nickname that you’d donned him with, he loved that special little name that you’d picked out for him. 

And out of all the names that’s what you’d called that slobbery animal, that’s what you called him. That dog, who’d slowly been taking you away from Dean ever since he was found out in the streets. Who’d been stealing you away from him for the past few days right under his nose the whole time. 

Dean couldn’t prove it, but he knew that the dog was doing it on purpose. 

He knew that the dog would give him a satisfied smirk, every time he’d turn his back on you and the animal. He knew what he was doing and he was playing you like a damn fiddle. 

You currently sat on your and Deans motel bed, an old hay brush passing through the dogs tangled fur as you gave him sweet praises. Dean sat behind you against the headboard, muttering under his breath all the things you’d say in a mocking tone. 

Not that he was trying to mock you, but you’d fallen so easily in the dogs trap that you could no longer get out. It was kinda hard not to. 

“Good boy.” You whispered to the dog, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “The goodest boy.”

Dean could see his tail wagging from his position, body moving with each sharp wag. 

Suck up. Dean wanted to say to the dog, not that he won’t when you leave the room. But, for now he’s happy with the one sided argument that he’s winning against an animal. 

You then placed the hairbrush on the side of the bed, hands coming to pet the dogs now soft fur. Gentle praises leaving your mouth as you then began to scratch behind his ears. 

Dean stared at the sight before him, wishing that he’d be the one that you’d run your fingers through his hair. Telling him how pretty and handsome he was. “You never do that to me.” Dean muttered softly.

“What?” Thankfully, what he said never truly meeting your ears. 

“I said he’s very obidient.” Dean replied louder, watching as a small smile formed on your face as you agreed. Your attention returning back to the animal, completely missing the sour look he gave the dog. 

God, he couldn’t wait til this dog was gone. 


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It’s a scream, baby

It’s A Scream, Baby

Summary: Dean and you discuss what the best Horror film is

Word count: 0.5k

A/n: In your opinion, what’s the best slasher movie?

A/a/n: Y’all please ignore the graphics on this one, I literally didn’t sleep at all last night because I was finishing a book. So please just ignore it. Thank you!

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“No,no,no,no,no.” You quickly spoke, the bucket of popcorn jumbling around in your lap. “Carrie, only killed everyone because she was made fun of on the best day of her life. If she weren’t then everyone would still be alive.”

“But that doesn’t make her movie the best horror film.” Dean accused, mouth filled with half eaten popcorn as he did so. 

You rolled you eyes, “I never said Carrie was the best horror film, I was just trying to make a valid point.”

“And it was a valid point, but that still doesn’t answer the main question.”

“Does it really matter?” Sam asked, trying his hardest to focus on the slasher film both you and Dean forced him to watch. 

“Yes.” You both said in unison.

Facing you again, Dean began to make his own point. “Friday the 13th, is by far the best horror film.” He told you grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bucket before popping it in his mouth. “Because it has all the right things a good slasher would need, a great backstory, a power hungry killer and most importantly tits.”

“Ok, one,” you began, holding up a single digit. “The first movie sucked, the second was the best of the franchise. Two, Jason was not power hungry, he was a man with severe mommy issues. And, three, all 70’s to early 90’s slasher has a girl showing her tits.”

“Not all of them.” Dean muttered. 

“And besides, all the girls that ended up flashing the camera were dead by the end. That’s Scream, 101. Which I think is the best slasher.”

Dean let out a chuckle, “And why would Scream be better that Friday the 13th?”

“The Ghostfacers are hot.” You told him bluntly, taking a quick sip of your beer. 

“They’re hot?” He said, almost as to see if he was hearing you right. “That’s why you think it’s the best horror film.”

“Yes.”

Dean looked over at his brother, trying to see if he was agreeing with you or not. Even though Sam had stopped listening to either of you a good couple of minutes ago. Glancing back over at you again, he squinted his eyes ever so slightly. “What other slashers do you find hot?”

You looked up at the ceiling, hand coming up in front of you as you began to start counting on your fingers. “The ghostfacers, with or without the masks, Micheal Myers, Jason, that Tiffany girl-“

“Tiffany is a doll.” Dean stated.

“And?” You then continued. “That dude from fear street, that had the potato sack over his head, he was really hot then. And, the guy from the black phone.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, “I thought the guy from Black Phone was gay.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Y/n, he kidnapped little boys and watched them while they slept. He isn’t just gay, he is also a pedophile.” He told you, pointing an accusing hand over at the TV as if it were the moving playing. 

“Ok, so, he might be gay. Big deal. But, Ethan Hawke had some great tits in that movie.”

Dean gave you a funny look, “Why were you staring at his tits?”

“The same reason you do, Dean.” You told him placing a couple pieces of buttered popcorn on you tounge. “The same exact reason you do.”


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