Supernatural Oneshots/Imagines

<the stumbling man> (vamp!dean x male reader)

Summary: It was another long day at the club you work at. On your walk home, you see a guy who had been at the club earlier today, stumbling, probably drunk or hopped up on something. Rather then hearing in the news that a random guy was found dead in an alley, you decide to take him home and get him cleaned up...

Request:
'Could you maybe do something with vampire!dean x male reader during season 6 episode 5?'

The answer is yes <3
So after rewatching the episode, I got to work ;)
*smut warning*

You leaned over into the mirror, one of your hands planted against the edge of the cold porcelain sink to keep you steady as you carefully brushed on the dark eyeshadow below your waterline. The bar you worked at was made for darker colors, and the managers preferred that when you got to work that you at least tried to fit the scene. The first day at the job you went in with a casual pair of clothes- and to say the least, your manager wasn't very impressed. Since then you've gone to work dressed like a walking stick of eyeliner; black eyeshadow, black jeans, black shirts, and sometimes a leather jacket to just get the point across that you'd rather dress up then get fired.

"Shit!" You hissed after the brush had gone directly into your eye. You dropped the small makeup brush into the sink and closed your eyes, rubbing the top of your eyelid to try and sooth the pain of literally stabbing your self in the eye with eyeshadow. After a moment of rubbing your eye and making sure it wasn't going to water and have the makeup running, you opened your eyes and grabbed the brush again. You grumbled to yourself about this 'stupid fucking job' and it's 'stupid fucking dresscode' before doing your other eye. Despite having to dress this way, it wasn't all that bad.

You'd even gotten hit on a few times since taking the job, and while you remained professional, it was sort of fun. Sure, the people were a little odd, but some of them were really cool. Apart from the douchébags who play to far into the 'vampire' role, and lucky for you, they always seemed to pick the place you worked at you play it up. You sighed, glad to finally be done darkening your face.
You closed the palette of eyeshadow equipped with specifically dark colors and dropped the brush onto the side of the sink beside of it. With one final look in the mirror, you turned over to the outfit you set down on the toilet lid. A friend from work had insisted on going out to help you get clothes for the job, so you had based most of what you bought for the job on what they'd picked out. Today was an outfit you'd thought of by yourself, without a FaceTime from Bohdi, the work friend. You grabbed the fishnets set out on top of everything, struggling for a moment to slip them on. And christ why did they have to have so many little holes in them? The first time you wore them you had already ripped 3 new holes in them. It's like they were designed to tear apart. Once you had managed to get your legs in them without ripping any new holes, to your surprise, you reached for the black jeans. The seams were sewn with red thread, which you thought looked fairly cool. Hell, not even fairly cool, you really liked them. You could see yourself actually wearing these outside of work. You slipped them on and fastened them around your waist with a studded belt. Now, for the shirt and accessories. You reached for the black and red striped sweater, various holes in this one as well. Maybe you wore it on purpose. Last time you'd worn it to work you had gotten two peoples numbers and were offered a few different shots. And thank god there was a limit as to how many you could have at work, because you were offered far to many. You smiled to yourself at the memory as you fit it over your head and stuffed your arms into the sleeves. You rolled them up somewhat, past your forearms, just to show the new piece of art on your arm. It had fully finished healing a week ago, and you had to keep it covered to keep it clean. It was a wonderful spider web sleeve, your elbow now the only black space on your arm. You smiled and reached for the small chain set on the window sill and slipped it around your neck, next decorating your fingers with a set of silver rings. Thank god they were real, because you hated the little green residue that was left behind with the fake ones. You tucked one side of the large sweater into your waistband, letting the rest hang over. You nodded to yourself, adjusting one of the rings before grabbing your phone from the tank behind the toilet.