#spnmixedbingo

[spnmixedbingo]

Only a few days until this round ends.

Unfortunately, due to lack of interest, we will not be hosting another round.

Thank you to everyone who submitted fics.

#end of spnmixedbingo

[kickingitwithkirk]

Mascara and Masquerade

Summary: Jensen gets a new celebrity assistant who’s not what she appears to be

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3896

Warnings: cursing, family issues, age differences, deception/hiding the truth, some angst, sexual fantasy, male masturbation, sex toy, loss of a child

A/N: for @deanwanddamons #deanwandamons3Kfollowerschallenge

A/N II: story set season 13 and told POV of Jensen and Reader and if it seems kinda crazy, it’s the characters acting outta character due to past experiences

Prompts: Secret Dating, “Did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?” Third Wheel-Protective Best Friend

Squares Filled: @anyfandomgoesbingo -Escort AU @spnkinkbingo -DDLG @j3bingo -”Did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?” @spnmixedbingo -Amnesia @spnaubingo - Demigod AU

Vancouver 

July 24th

~You~

“May I see your ID?” 

I hand my driver's license and temp pass out the car window to the guard, checking it against their paperwork and handing it back telling me how to get to administration to acquire my permanent credentials.

Even though I come in an extra hour early, some mixup delays me and when I finally reach the lot I am greeted by a harassed gopher grumbling at how late I am. 

Since they weren’t who I was working for, I didn’t bother to explain what happened and grab my work bag to follow as they gave me a quick tour before heading into the soundstage.

I’ve worked on several shows over the last four years but this was the first time a set had struck me dumb in amazement.

TV screens don't do justice to the attention to detail that had gone into the construction of The Bunker, briefly reminding me of classic movies where the builders meticulously created intricate woodwork and set designers used sumptuous material and antiques to create ambiance.

My escort showed me an innocuous corner to wait in until they were finished with the current scene and I watch amazed, as always, how actors can slip in/out of their characters. 

After checking the playback and being satisfied the director called for the next scene's setup the gopher approached one of the actors and said something pointed toward me and they turned, eyes me then frowned. 

Terrific start.

I squared my shoulders before walking over to introduce myself to the man whose life I’d been hired to, well, basically run. “I apologize for being delayed sir,” their eyebrows went up, “administration hadn’t received my visa credentials and took a while to sort out.”

“I’m not that formal so call me by my first name..”

“..it would be unprofessional Mr. Ackles.”

~Jensen~ 

It’d been a good day without Misha here distracting us, aka Jared, and looking like we’re getting done ahead of schedule when one of the gophers told me my new assistant had finally shown up, only three hours late, and when I see the person sent I’m disappointed, having requested a guy or older woman with industry experience. 

Instead, they’ve sent some dowdy looking, just knows gonna be wet behind the ears twenty-something. 

For a split second the way she walks reminds me of Jared, must have something to do with her height when she started apologizing. 

Someone raised her with manners but I’m less than thrilled when she calls me sir, last thing I want is to be reminded that I’m edging forty, saying it’s unprofessional to call me by my first name. 

“Where the hell did you come from..nineteen-fifty?”

“Texas actually.”

“Huh, don’t sound like it, where ‘bouts?”

She shrugged “just ‘bouts. I spent several years outta state for school, guess it eradicated my accent.”

Wasn’t sure what to make of the dodge but let it go, noticing some eavesdroppers, “it’s gonna be a bit till they’re done setting up so let’s head somewhere less noisy to finish this discussion.” 

Grabbing a cart I drive us to my trailer and held the door like the gentleman my mama raised me gesturing for her to proceed, “thank you si..Mr. Ackles.”

Deciding I’d better stay clear-headed so I don’t say something stupid pull a couple of bottles of water and hand her one before settling in the recliner, “I’m sorry but you’re not gonna do..” I trailed off when she slightly squinted and her forehead wrinkled. 

Huh, now she’s giving me Sam.

“Why not?”

“I asked for someone with experience, the last two were so young they couldn’t find their own asses let alone keep my shit in line.”

“I happen to know where my ass is and very experienced at keeping other people's shit in line.” 

She fished around in this ridiculous oversized bag she’s been toting hands over a few printouts for me to read. 

Y/N Y/L/N, graduated Magma Cum Ludi while working as Sterling K. Brown's celebrity assistant. Been hearing nothing but good things about his new show and interesting, even Milo gave her a recommendation.

“I’ll admit your credentials are impressive, obtaining a bachelor's degree while working the batshit crazy hours this industry runs on but I gotta ask, why’d you request a transfer? Sterling’s a good guy to work for.”

“I liked working for him but didn’t cotton to the LA bullshit. I thought about Georgia or New York, but neither suited me, Van has a more of the right vibe and people are nicer here.”

A straight shooter, I liked that. 

“I must be a glutton for punishment,” point a stern finger at her, “you're on probation ‘cause I’ve been burned by people your age young lady, so if you fucking flake on me..”

“..you’ll kick my ass all the way back to Texas?” 

“Damn straight,” someone knocks on the door yelling I’m needed back on set. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Jared’s assistant, they can show you how to keep and coordinate our schedules. Now for some ground rules, you're gonna want to write these down.”

“I have an excellent memory.”

“Uh huh,” I mutter heading out the door and getting in the cart, “it's Jensen, my dad is sir. I expect you to be available at all times so if you’ve got something, let me know.”

I weave around an offloading truck, “be here by 6:30 and it's no secret I’m not a morning person so don’t try going over anything until I’ve had my coffee, black and strong and I’ll grab something from craft services.”

Parking near the set entrance we walk few steps and appraise her again in in the daylight. One things for sure, she’s as plain a Jobs ass behind those humongous spectacles, definitely no temptation there so I won’t have to worry about being in the shitter with HR.

“You’ve gotta get a different wardrobe,” she stopped with a questioning expression and I pointedly peer down frowning, “that outfit might be fine for some bumfuck lawyers office but here it’s long days so jeans, sneakers, or boots depending on the weather. When we’re doing public events wear a nice jacket. Entienda?”

Shifting that godawful bag held out her hand, “Sí, but I’m still gonna call you Mr. Ackles, otherwise it’d be impertinent. ¿Lo entiendes?”

I took her hand and we both got zapped, the kind you get when shuffling across carpeting then touching metal, and Y/N quirks a peculiar smile.

What the fuck about you keeps reminding me of Jared? 

I quickly plastered a pleasant smile on, “one week only kid, should give us time to get comfortable with each other.”

We head inside as I shook out my hand, perplexed. 

Gotta a feeling you're gonna be more than I’ve bargained for.

~You~

October 9th

Rogers Stadium 

How the hell did I get roped into this? I don’t even like baseball! 

I’ve done support for other charity events the show does but participate? Yet here I am, sitting in the dugout watching the casts practice session.

Truth be told, I’ve been watching my boss work up a sweat, I’m so not into the whole moist look on guys, on most it’s icky but what the fuuuck, does nothing look bad on Jensen?

He’s practically glistening under the stadium's lighting, even the damp bits of his hair are sexily sticky and feel a throbbing between my legs drop my head into my hands groan in frustration cause falling for my boss wasn’t part of the plan!

“Hey,” I peek and he’s close enough to see sweat gliding over his skin. “Yeah,” I squeak made his eyebrows shot up in surprise chucks a thumb at home plate, “your turn.” 

“Oh, I uhh, I don’t,” bat swinging gestured. That’s not a total lie, my brothers taught me how to hit a ball.

Okay, it was a kid’s plastic set and I was four but still, it counts. 

Jensen gives me annoyed Dean, “you’ve gotten off..”if you only knew how bad I need to, “..so get your butt out here young lady.” I obediently follow him off to the side and pick up a practice bat, “you know which end to grip?” 

 “I’m not Aunt Bea, thank you very much,” I groused making him laugh took my stance, “thought you said nobody likes a smartass.”

 “Depends how nice the ass is,” he snarked, stepping behind me places a hand on my hip, “widen your stance.”

Shifting made my ass bump against his crotch, hello Mr. Chub, can’t resist wiggling my money against him, “like this?” 

Jensens grip tightened and breath hitches before speaking in Dean’s roughened voice, “I’m gonna pitch a few so keep your eye on the balls.”

“Oh, I know how to keep my eye on your balls,” I innocently tease, then spot Jared not only watching us but overhearing flirty comeback tensed and pointedly throwing bitchface at me.

Foul ball

#SPNNOLA

October 29th

“Excuse us,” Jensen firmly gripped my bicep hauling me off the barstool marching us towards the back door.

Once we’re outside he slams it shut and shoving me against it leans in so close I can smell the bourbon he’s been enbidding, ”did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?” 

“I was saving you from you, you jerk,” and before I can continue his expression grows dark. 

Fuuuck, if Jensen had channeled that into Demon Dean found myself almost acting like Pavlov's dog. Every time he drops into his dominant persona, its becoming harder to resist dropping into my little subspace and calling him daddy.

“Look, I get you're jonesing for some sushi but keeping your shit in line is my job so I’m now advising you not to fuck around with a swindel cat.”

“A What!”

“That person fucks people while secretly filming them then hands the vid to a shady distributor who’s gonna release it unless you cough up some cheddar,”  Jensen’s mouth dropped open, “your welcome.”

I grabbed his wrist checking the time, “let’s head over to Daisy Duke's, I got a sudden craving for biscuits and sausage gravy with a side of greasy breakfast and pot of coffee for you, last days in five hours.”

~Jensen~

I shut the door leaning back against it grateful this weekend has come to a close. 

Never in a million would’ve I imagined having my ass jam scammed let alone saved by my twenty-something assistant who persistently tails me when cruising bars on con weekends. 

What a pathetic piece of sh..divorcé..I’ve become.

On the way to shower I caught my reflection in the mirror stare at the leaner, tired face reflected back. Logically, I knew it was from getting older and not having a lotta time to work out more than to maintain these days turned my back to it and strip.

Walking outta the bath naked vigorously towel-dry my short hair and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs spot a box lying on the bed that wasn’t there when I came in. 

Opening its flaps find a Fleshlight Turbo Thrust Blowjob Masturbator nestled inside start devising pay back on the fucker pranking me, figuring it’s Jared or his new cohort Alex spot a handwritten note.

Wait, that’s my mousy, irritatingly persistent assistant Y/N’s handwriting, the person responsible for my balls being backed up from not getting any in weeks has wrote something I’d expect to find in penthouse forum.

Once again, I’m wondering if she’s taken her job of handling my shit a little too personally.

Fuck it.

I grab a couple of pillows to pad the headboard and grab the toy and lube outta the box squirt a generous amount in its opening and coat its outer lips start teasing my cockhead watch it swallow my shaft and, adjusting it tighter, start working it up and down.

Damn, does it feel good.

“Mmmm, that’s it, feels good but you can take more.. you look beautiful, mouth all stretched out taken daddy’s fat cock..suck harder..yeah, just like that..fuck little girl, you should see how my cocks bulging out your throat..oh shit gonna cum..fuuuck Y/N!”

Flight to Vancouver 

Without Jared, who detoured home, to keep me distracted chattering on about whatever his nerd brain was into at the moment because mine won’t stop replaying that fucked up fantasy I had starring Y/N again found myself trying to sort out what the hell going on with these fucked up feelings I keep having about her. 

Been a long time since I’ve met someone I’ve wanted an alternative relationship with impulsively pick up my phone.

>Hey, hadn’t👂from 🫵 miss the 🛩 

<tickling my 😆 🦴smartass, on ✈️ with 🫵

>don’t 👀 🫵

<;in coach ☹️

>I’m 😑 

<Ahh poor baby, stuck in🥇class while I’m smooshed like 🥫🍣  I’m 😫 ❄️ 

I chuckled at her sarcasm:

>need to 💬 about that 🔞🎁 

<did you👍 or to much a gentleman to 💋&🗣 

> 🦗🦗🦗 

< 😆 knew it’d 💡your 🧨 did your🕹💥

>I find that❓inappropriate young lady😡

&lt;I’m not sorry daddy😏

Switching off my phone glanced around before reaching down to adjust my chub and thunk my head against the seat back. 

So not how I wanted that to go.

Three days till Thanksgiving 

Jared bound into my trailer noticed my mood, “hey, what’s up?”

“My dog walker called,” the door opens and Y/N came in carrying some drycleaning gave Jared a tight smile.

For some unfathomable reason, she’s being more wary of him and he’s been acting weird since the charity baseball game last month.

Hell, maybe she has a crush on him and he knows so why does that thought give me acid burn?

“They've got a family emergency. Fuck, I didn’t wanna fly Icarus since he just had surgery but Mama insisted I be there, said all the families coming this year.”

“So what’s the excuse gonna be when the lady you're,” he does those finger quotes, “secretly dating doesn’t show again?” Y/N makes this weird face at his question.

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’ll take Icarus.” she offers and swear I can hear Jared’s gears grinding, “if you're worried about the cost, you’re welcome to fly with us, getcha as far as Austin.”

“Mr. Padalecki,”  her response is polite feel the temp figuratively drop, “I appreciate the offer but no thanks,” he starts to speak again, “my showing up for anything has never gone over well with my siblings. I’ll drop by for him tomorrow,” curtly nodding to Jared she left.

“What the fuck did I do to make her fucking hate me!”

Jared can be a lot to handle and know it bothers him when someone doesn’t respond well to his hyper personality, unlike me, Mr. Keep Your Damn Distance.

“I don’t know man, you’ve seen the shit she gives me,” Jared snorted, “like you don’t deserve it. Y/N’s friendly with everyone else..even puts up with Misha!” Jared fake pouts, “I overheard her and Alex planning some Christmas-themed bar hop next break.” 

I gave him a look and Jared bust out laughing then became somber, “wonder what happened with her family to feel like your not welcome. Fuck, don’t know if I could handle not being part of mine,” he remarked heading out and his words got me thinking too. 

Y/N is not the most open person, like me in that aspect, but thinking back, she deflects on a lot on personal stuff and got the idea of who might know something and plan on covertly visiting them in a couple of weeks.

December 3

San Francisco, CA 

Hyatt Regency SFO (Airport) Hotel

11:30 AM

Jared and I exited the stage and caught sight of JDM conversing with Y/N, laughing at some anecdote she’s saying before he’s called to the stage. 

Passing by, Jeff places a hand on my shoulder, halting me, and leans in muttering, “doesn’t she remind you of Jared when we first started?” 

He’s wearing his pay attention to what I’m not saying son, squeezing once joined Sam Smith onstage. 

“Hey,” Y/N tapping her wrist and cocking her head towards the prep room for me to hurry up and I follow and start appraising her with my director's eye. 

She’s fairly tall, but that’s not unusual for women nowadays, bland as hell hair color and could stand some different make-up, always wearing this unflattering lip rouge. Her wardrobe has some improvements but still, wonder if she’d let me take her shopping sometime. 

Hmm, it’s entirely possible this look is so she’ll be taken seriously still being.. Fuck, I don’t even know how old she! 

Her dark eyes start doing a weird, squinty blink, “your eyes bothering you?”

“Huh? Oh, guess it’s the A/C.” 

“I have some drops in my bag you can use.” 

“Thanks but I need the one for lens,” she abruptly stopped and did that downturn with her mouth.

“There’s a bottle in the front pocket,” pretending I didn’t hear that last bit, “help yourself,” and stroll out now knowing those glasses are fake.

~You~

December 18th

“What’d I do?” 

I turned to see Alex mirroring my shocked expression after Jensen snaps, no, fucking blew his fucking lid storming outta the makeup trailer. 

“I..I‘ve,” I stumbled over what to say because I’m not sure if he is aware of what happened four years ago. “It wasn't about you. Umm, I’m gonna head out and deal with the boss man.” 

Alex looked contrite, “okay, ahh..could you tell him I wanna apologize.”

“You don’t need to, been around long enough to know he’ll come to you hat in hand. So, I’ll see you tomorrow night at the pub crawl.”

~~~

I quietly shut the trailer door and sit next to Jensen finally get to see the photo I was told he always carries.

It’s a candid taken by his dad of Danneel, his mom, and him just before they’d had put JJ to bed that night four years ago unaware it’d be the last time.

He hastily tucks it away and on impulse I reach for the hand resting on his jean-clad thigh and tangled our fingers together when his chartreuse eyes cut to me, narrowing.

I learned when he does that, it’s not for people to drop whatever he’s not liking, it’s Jensen’s about to fucking go off for real.

“I went to LA,” I quickly dropped my gaze, “I’m taking you home and we’re gonna have a long conversation. Do you understand me, young lady?”

“Yes sir.”

I’m totally screwed.

~Jensen~

I shut her apartment door and immediately issue orders, “you’re gonna wash all that shit off and you’d better not come out till you’re squeaky clean, do you understand me?” 

Y/N’s eyes got big bit on her bottom lip and felt that sensation roll through me, “yes sir,” she whispered, “umm, it’s gonna take me a bit, make yourself at home. I don’t have much in the fridge but there’s a bottle in the cabinet over it,” and disappears through the bath door.

While she’s preoccupied I took the opportunity and have look around.

She lives in a very small furnished studio and don’t see one personal item sitting out, only a few Christmas cards on the dinette do something I’d normally never, ever do, and start going through drawers starting with the under bed storage found confirmation of what I’d observed and suspected about certain proclivities of hers.

Back to the kitchen I found the decent label bourbon grab it and pour two glasses then kick back on the sectionals chaise-end flipped through the channels finding an NFL game.

~~~

“What’s the score?”

“13 to..” my mouth dropped.

“I know,” downing the second glass of bourbon the alcohol roughed her voice, “I’m Jared minus the chest hair.”

I sat there amazed how the similarities outweighed their differences; minus the contouring makeup the shape of her face was Jared, even that tipped nose with random freckles instead of moles but her jawline was femininely softened and framed by much longer, cinnamony-chestnut hair.

Without the colored-contacts and hideous glasses I can see her fox-tilted eyes also have a unique color patterns. 

“I can’t wrap my head around this contrast,” waving my hand over her visage, “you lied, deceive us all..for what, shits and giggles?”

“This isn’t something I just started doing, I’ve been disguising this,” pointing to her face, “for years.”

“Why?”

“You gonna rat me out?”

“Don’t dodge my question.”

“This was Chad’s idea..”

“What the hell possessed you to listen to Murray? Know what, scratch that, start at the beginning.”

“David Copperfield beginning?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“You said it depends how nice the ass is and you could bounce a nickel off mine.”

“Now is not the time for levity.”

“If you're worried about Jared’s reaction, don’t. The only thing my famous brothers gonna care about is how fast you can ship me the fuck outta here!” The vitriol in her voice shocked me, only once I’ve heard her like this was when I was three sheets to the wind and acting like a bastard.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around the comments you’ve said versus what I know. The Padalecki's are one of the closest families I’ve ever met and I can’t conceive how it’s even possible for them to have hidden you all these years.”

“It started when Jared signed on with his management agency, some nonsense about our age gap and public opinion.” 

I remember opinions were more conservative back when we first started in the industry and public opinion is everything.

“How much of an age gap are we talking here?”

“Fourteen, you do the math.” 

“Holy fucking shit! You're only twenty-one?!”

“Twenty-two, my birthdays was on Halloween. Look, I’ll make you a deal, let me stay on til the thirty-first so I can get a leg up finding another position and..”

“And?”

“You apologize to Alex before he apologizes to you, he doesn’t know about JJ and this time of year.”

“Fuck, you and Jared are alike in more ways than one,” I refilled the glasses, “I’ll make you a counter-deal. You know I’m spending part of Christmas break with my parents,” she nodded, “pretend to be my girlfriend and..”

“What the hell? What makes you think I’d ever agree to that?”

“We’d be doing each other a favor, you’ll keep them off my back and I won’t say anything. We know enough about each other to get away with and you’ve proved to be one helluva actor, can improvise on the spot and I..”

“Just can’t bear to let the best assistant you’ve ever had go?” 

“If you’re wanna stick around, we’ll discuss a mutually beneficial off-the-clock relationship.”

“Why is my spidey sense tingling?”

“Maybe because I found some interesting items under that bed,” holding up one said items smirk, “wouldn't have taken you for a little.”

Y/N smirked back, “wouldn’t have taken you for a daddy.”

“You’ve been very, very naughty,” I unbuckled my belt and slipped it through the loops, “so daddy needs to reminded you what happens to bad girls.” 

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3rr @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

#deanwandamons3Kfollowerschallenge #jensen ackles #dean winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader

[avanatural]

The Hookup Henley

Summary: Dean is struggling with the Mark of Cain. Y/N, his best friend, wants to make him feel better. Will she succeed? What happens when the mark takes over?

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, both protected and unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), MoC!Dean

Prompts: 

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Night club

Dean’s green Henley

Square filled: Friends with benefits @spnmixedbingo 

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not read if you are under the age of 18! I wrote this fic for @libre1rose8 300 Follower Celebration! Congratulations again, my friend! 💕 You deserve every single follower and so many more! 😘 I hope you enjoy my contribution to your challenge (that totally took on a life of its own) 💗 Dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021 Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

“Come on, Dean, just try it! For me. Please?”

Dean tossed his head back, sighing in exasperation. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Y/N walked into his bedroom, coming to a halt in front of him. The older Winchester brother was sitting on the floor, leaning back against his bed, a stack of books and papers settled in his lap. Y/N placed her hands on her hips, gazing down at him with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

Dean was constantly doing research these days. Holing up in his room. Trying to find a way to get rid of the mark on his arm, or at least to relieve the terrible side effects that it came with. His mossy green eyes had lost their light. The fun-loving, Impala-driving, pie-eating, lady-charming Dean was gone. It pained Y/N to see him like that.

“You’re never too old to have a good time,” she argued, finally getting him to look up, to look her in the eye. And boy, did he look tired. “I miss my best friend,” she added.

Dean’s jaw clenched, a tiny spark of guilt flashing through his eyes. He was neglecting his relationships with the people closest to him, he knew that. But the mark was driving him insane. Slowly pushing him over the edge he’d been dancing on for ages. “Y/N, just let it go, okay? I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, holding his gaze with determination. “Because I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you smile in weeks.” She missed his smile so bad. The way his pearly white teeth would show. The way his plump lips would curl upward. The faint dimples that would appear on his cheeks.

Dean’s jaw clenched yet again. His mesmerizing, angry eyes glared up at her. “What, and dragging me to the club, of all places, is gonna change that?”, he snapped.

Y/N wasn’t fazed by his attitude. She knew that beneath all the rage and hostility, he was suffering. And no matter how angry he was, she was never going to be afraid of him. “There’s nothing that music, booze, and attractive people can’t let you forget about. At least for a little while.” She bent down and grabbed his hand, pulling on it in an attempt to make him get up.

With a small grunt, Dean complied. Carelessly, he brushed the papers off of his lap and pushed himself up on his feet. Y/N took his other hand as well and started pulling him toward his dresser. With an exaggerated eye roll, Dean trudged along.

“Are you really gonna make me go?”, he sulked, his forehead puckering with annoyance.

“It’ll be fun,” she insisted, wriggling her eyebrows at him, “We’ll find that Hookup Henley of yours, go to the club, get wasted, and look for a beautiful woman for you to go home with.”

Dean scoffed. The Hookup Henley – the green Henley that he tended to wear whenever him and Y/N went looking for hookups. Honestly, he didn’t even believe that this particular shirt was the main ingredient for his success with women.

No. It was Y/N. The huntress was the key to his conquests. She was the perfect wingman. Well, wingwoman. With her smile, she could draw in any woman that Dean fancied. And when Y/N used her sweet voice to introduce him to his chosen ones, the deal was sealed within a matter of seconds.

“I hate you,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the green Henley from his drawer.

“You love me,” she corrected, grinning at him, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

A nostalgic smile spread across Y/N’s mouth. It had been way too long since she’d felt the beat of vibrating music in her chest. The night club was packed with people who were dancing, drinking, laughing, chatting. She’d only just entered, but she was already having a good time.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t like it nearly half as much. The lights were flashing too bright. The music was too upbeat. The people were too happy. He scowled bitterly as he followed his friend through the crowd.

“Come on! This is gonna be great!”, she yelled over the music, taking a hold of his hand. With a bounce in her step, she yanked Dean to the bar.

He rolled his eyes, but to his own dismay, he was unable to stop the teeny-tiny smile that suddenly laced his lips. Who was he kidding? Y/N’s enthusiasm never failed to tug on his heart strings. He watched her closely as she ordered their first drinks for the night, talking animatedly to the bartender.

Dean had no clue why Y/N hadn’t left him behind already. Why she hadn’t cut ties with him, especially now that he had the Mark of Cain. But then again, she’d never left him behind before. And deep down, he hoped she never would.

“Alright, big boy, drink up!”, she yelled over the music and handed him a shot, her black nail polish sparkling in the strobe lights.

Dean scowled, trying to hide the fact that he was actually grateful for the alcohol that was going to enter his system. Alcohol meant ease. Ease was good. Now that he had the mark, he was incapable of relaxing. He was constantly on guard, constantly trying to control his temper, constantly thinking about violence.

They both knocked back their drink, wincing as the alcohol streamed down their throats with a comforting burn.

“And now…” Y/N smacked her lips together, tasting the remaining sheen of booze. “Step two.”

Dean lifted his eyebrows and looked down at her with fearful anticipation. “Step two?”

“Let’s go dance!”, she exclaimed, just loud enough to be heard despite the booming music.

“No, no, no,” Dean blurted, shaking his head. He could feel the walls around him come up even higher. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, then… Another round of shots, it is. I will make you feel better tonight, Dean. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

"Come on! Give me at least one dance, Winchester,” Y/N mumbled, holding up one finger with a tipsy chuckle. She couldn’t tell anymore how many drinks they’d had. Not that it mattered.

"Alright, alright. One dance. Come 'ere." With two clumsy hands, he took her by the waist and pulled her close to his body. The ease had slowly but surely started to kick in after their last round of shots. "Damn, you're annoying today," he continued with a little amused smile on his face. He hadn’t smiled in so long that it made his cheeks feel strange.

Y/N laughed freely and snaked her arms around his neck, crossing them around the back. She leaned up to speak right into his ear. Between her and Dean, physical boundaries had never mattered much. "I'm just what you need."

Something about the tone in her voice sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He couldn't identify that shiver, and it bothered the hell out of him. People didn't always associate that quality with him, but Dean was very self-aware. Even drunk, he was aware of his thought patterns and physical reactions. But the shiver that Y/N made him feel… It was foreign to him. He hated foreign feelings, foreign sensations. He hated that the sensation felt so good. She was his friend, for God’s sake.

Y/N started to sway from side to side, using her arms to softly ease Dean into her rhythm.

He obliged and circled his arms around her middle, his hands landing on her lower back. Part of him felt stupid, swaying left and right in the middle of a crowd. He felt like a drunken fool. But he also felt good. For the first time in a long time. Which only made him more frustrated. He shouldn't get to feel good. Not now, not with the mark on his arm. Not after the things he'd done.

"You're overthinking," Y/N stated, looking Dean straight in the eye. Looking right through him, as usual.

And suddenly, it dawned on him. Why he'd been holing up in his room. Why he’d been hiding from his friend. He’d known that she was going to make him feel better. Make him feel hopeful. He didn’t deserve hope. He didn’t deserve her.

"It's kinda hard not to nowadays,” he blurted. He averted his eyes and focused on the rhythm of the music. Maybe going to the club hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. There were lots of stimuli to focus on. To distract him. To get lost in.

“I know. But guess what?” Y/N lowered her head to catch Dean’s eye again. “You got this,” she reassured him with a nod of her head, “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Dean felt her fingers on the back of his neck, her fingertips gently grazing the exposed skin. On instinct, his hands went to her hips. He could feel their shape, feel Y/N’s fluid movements against his palms. She’d forced him to dance with her before, but it was different this time. Back then, their dances had been silly and dumb. This dance felt strangely… close. Sensual.

Just as Dean was about to reply, she added, “And one of the worst dancers.”

His eyes widened, an expression of feigned hurt popping up on his face. “Oh, shut up. You better get us another round of shots before I blow this joint.”

Y/N chuckled, the skin around her Y/E/C eyes wrinkling. She knew him well enough to know that the night club had awoken his interest by now. “Alright, one final round of shots before we find our hookups for the night?”

Dean nodded his head more eagerly than he intended.

The smile that Y/N responded with shone brighter than all the strobe lights combined.

“What about that one?”, she inquired, lazily nodding at a pretty brunette who was waiting to receive her drink at the bar. Y/N’s hips were moving from side to side, her back pressed against Dean’s solid chest. She ground herself against him, feeling his strong hands tighten around her hips. Yes, physical boundaries were nonexistent at this point.

“Nah.” Dean bent down over her shoulder, inching a little too close, to speak into her ear. “She’s here with a guy. I want it quick and easy tonight,” he mumbled as his scruffy cheek pressed against her smooth one. If anyone had told him that he was going to dance with Y/N in the middle of the dance floor of a night club, grinding against her body, he would never have believed it.

Y/N couldn’t deny the hot tingling sensation that rolled up and down her spine at Dean’s closeness, at the sound of his deep voice in her ear, at the smell of his cologne. “Who’s she with?”, she asked casually, feeling the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

Dean tightened his arms around her waist from behind and shifted on his feet, turning Y/N into the direction of a tall, dark-haired man. He held her closer than he needed to, but her body just felt like it was made for his greedy embrace. “With Pretty Boy over there.”

“Too bad,” Y/N sighed, laying her head back against Dean’s shoulder with a small pout. “He’s cute.”

“Please,” Dean scoffed. His hips automatically pushed forward as he felt Y/N’s ass move against his front. He could feel his pants get tight and suppressed the moan that threatened to leave his lips. “You can do better.”  

She smiled to herself and twirled around in Dean’s embrace, feeling woozy as she did so. As she came face to face with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck again. Pulling him down, she erased what little distance remained between them. “Nice moves, Winchester. I guess you’re a dancer after all,” she teased.

His hands reclaimed their place on her hips, his fingers dancing on the threshold to her ass. What wouldn’t he give to test the waters and let them slide down further? The dip of her lower back was tempting him to try it out. To touch her curves. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, and it excited him. Only, he wasn’t sure who was the cat and who was the mouse in this scenario.

“Those aren’t my only moves, Sweetheart.” He could feel the alcohol pulsating through his veins, clouding his mind. Y/N was gorgeous. How had he never noticed that? His eyes lingered on her face, mesmerized by the sheer beauty he found there. Her eyes were shining blue, green, yellow, red, perfectly reflecting each of the club’s flashing lights.

She arched an eyebrow, her lips morphing into a sultry smile. “Oh, yeah? Sounds like one of the ladies here is gonna get very lucky tonight.”

Alright, Y/N was definitely the cat. Every bone in Dean’s body screamed at him not to be the mouse, but the way she looked at him – like she was going to jump him any second – it made his knees weak. Before he could so much as think of a flirty remark, Y/N caught sight of a handsome man on the dance floor.

“Hey, look at that guy.” Chewing on her lower lip, she didn’t realize how enchanted Dean was by her beauty, how his eyes didn’t leave her face. “I think he might be tonight’s choice,” she added.

With hooded eyes, Dean tore his gaze away from Y/N and looked to the side. He had to admit the other guy was her type. Damn it, had he read her signs wrong? “Yeah… Why not?”, he replied, his voice sounding even and calm. But on the inside, he wasn’t feeling calm at all. He certainly didn’t want to feel that way, but there was a heavy stone sinking from his chest down to his stomach. In some strange way, despite his hate for clubs and dancing, he wanted to stay with Y/N. He wanted for Y/N to stay with him.

She dragged her bottom lip out between her teeth, missing the way Dean’s eyes lingered on her mouth. “I’m gonna go over there,” she declared and let go of his neck. She ruffled her Y/H/C hair, pushing it up with her hands. “How do I look?”

Begrudgingly, Dean let go of her, leaving his hands to hang awkwardly by his sides as Y/N cut the invisible tie between them. He cleared his throat and touched his Adam’s apple with his fingers. “You look good.”

“What about you?” Y/N smiled up at him, almost taking his breath away. “Who’re you gonna chat up?”

“Oh, I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head with his blunt fingernails. The mark on his arm started to pulsate, which he ignored to the best of his ability. Not now, he mentally scolded the mark. “I’ve had my eye on that blonde over there.” Weakly, he pointed at a beautiful blonde woman who was dancing with a friend.

“Good choice.” Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips in approval. “You need any help?”

“Nah. Not tonight. I’m good.”

“Alright. Good luck.” Y/N found his hand and squeezed it, just as she always did before they parted ways. It was her own special way of saying ‘See you later.’

Slowly, her fingers slipped through his, their touch getting lost in their intentions to find someone else.

A million thoughts shot through Dean’s head as he watched her push through the crowd. On her way to another guy. When Y/N suddenly looked over her shoulder, meeting Dean’s eyes once more, he knew. He could tell by the way the Mark of Cain was itching and burning at the same time. It was yearning for her.

Dean wanted her.

Y/N’s back slid up and down the wall of the bathroom, over and over again. The man’s hands harshly gripped the flesh of her thighs, keeping them wrapped around his waist. Her dress was bunched up around her hips. His jeans were pushed down his legs as his length pounded into her.

She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and threw her head back. His lips instantly attached themselves to her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses to her skin. When he sucked on her favorite spot, she felt herself fall apart around him. Her body quivered nonstop while she came.

As she panted with pleasure, her hands curled around his shirt – the very same shirt that was supposed to help him sleep with someone else. But here she was, having sex with her best friend in a dirty public bathroom.

In his drunken state, Dean had gone after Y/N. He’d pushed through the crowd, crossing the dance floor until he’d caught up with her. His fingers had curled around her wrist. His hand had turned her around. His lips had landed on hers, effectively keeping her from hooking up with that other guy. Everything had happened so fast. And now, here they were, screwing each other’s brains out.

Y/N moaned, Dean’s name sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out. But she bit her lip, willing her mouth not to say his name. There was something so wrong, so naughty, about this. The forbidden fruit. The line that should never be crossed between friends. It was glorious.

Meanwhile, Dean grunted into Y/N’s ear, forcing himself not to groan her name. The way her pussy clenched around him felt incredible. Too good to be true. It was so wrong to have sex with his best friend, his wingwoman, in the club’s bathroom. And still, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to remain buried inside of her until the end of time. His mark vibrated in perfect sync with his thrusts, the pain mingling with the pleasure. Something primitive and carnal took over his soul, making him push into Y/N even harder.

She gripped his shoulders tightly, her tipsy mind admiring his strength, his power. His lips and tongue felt so good against her neck. The swollen tip of his dick was buried so deep inside of her that she knew he was going to ruin her for any other man.

Dean was sweating, grunting, grinding. He poured everything he had into his thrusts, hoping for the ache in his forearm to be replaced by the soreness in his muscles. He gave Y/N all he had. If he did something so wrong, he might as well do it right.

As he felt his orgasm approaching, his head started to spin. The pain intensified across his forearm – and turned into the same pain that he felt whenever he killed something. Or someone.

It was a satisfying ache. Until it wasn’t.

As he emptied himself into the condom, Dean felt like the skin was being carved from his forearm. The mark was burning so bad that he squeezed his eyes shut and released a pained, dragged-out groan. He sounded like an animal, a monster, like a demon that was being exorcised.

Dean could hear a faint, sweet sound passing his eardrums. It took him a second to realize that the sound was Y/N’s concerned voice. When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, he was met with wide, Y/E/C orbs. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in their beautiful color, to feel like everything was going to be alright.

“Dean… Dean, what’s wrong?”, she repeated in between harsh breaths, her legs still locked around his waist. Her hands cupped his stubbled jaw as she tried to get a good look at his face.

He suddenly realized he was still pinning her to the wall, still sheathed inside her. He pushed air from his lungs, clearing his throat with a small noise. He pulled out of her and slowly let her down. As soon as Y/N’s feet hit the ground, he turned away from her, wiping his hands down his face. He leaned against the bathroom sink and pulled off the condom, his back facing her.

Y/N could see that he was struggling and felt herself sober up a little. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a hug, to take away his suffering. But she had no idea whether he wanted her near him. He was like a wounded animal sometimes. He tended to lash out when he was in pain.

Dean gasped as he tossed the used condom into the trashcan next to the sink. His arm hurt like hell. He was feeling dizzy. With pain and shame thrumming through his bones, he pulled up his boxers and pants.

Y/N couldn’t rip her worried gaze away from him. She pushed her dress down to cover her legs and slowly approached Dean, her steps timid. He tensed visibly when her hand finally came into contact with his upper arm. “Dean, hey… What is it?”, she inquired quietly, fully prepared to be pushed away.

“The mark…,” he grunted, feeling the engorged skin pulsate violently as he stared down at it. He didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t face Y/N.

“Let me see.” Her voice was soft and gentle as she reached out to touch the angry red mark. “Please.”

Dean bared his teeth, wincing when her fingertips brushed against the mark. But, against his expectations, the pain didn’t intensify.

Y/N’s fingers were cold. Her tender touch cooled down the burn. Dean’s eyelids became heavy with relief, prompting him to briefly shut his eyes. Within a matter of seconds, he went from a state of pure distress to a state of comfort.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered and started to run her thumb along the Mark of Cain, caressing it like it was something to be cherished. Something that wasn’t evil.

“Is it?” Dean opened his emerald eyes, a pained expression masking his face. He wasn’t looking for an honest answer. He wasn’t looking for a straight response. No, he was looking for reassurance. He knew Y/N would get that. She always knew what he needed.

“Yes. It is.” Honestly, she didn’t know what either of them were referring to. Was having the Mark of Cain okay? Were the two of them okay? She had no clue what they were talking about. All she knew was that, no matter what, she was going to remain by Dean’s side. “Now breathe with me.” Y/N inhaled deeply, raising her eyebrows in a silent demand for him to follow her lead.

He rolled his eyes, but held back his comment about shoving her self-help yoga crap, and complied. He breathed in deeply and slowly, just like her. And when Y/N released her breath, so did he. The pain in his arm was turning from sharp to dull, from threatening to bearable.

“Better?” Reluctantly, Y/N let go of his arm, letting her touch fade from his mark.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, mentally cursing himself for how fragile he sounded. He coughed in an awkward attempt to save face.

Y/N quickly realized that his moment of open vulnerability was over. She knew Dean well enough not to push it. She knew it was time to change the topic. With her cheeks still flushed from the sex they’d just had, she brushed some disheveled hair behind her ear. “We should do that again sometime,” she said in a lighthearted manner, thankful that she was still intoxicated enough to be bold. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled as she waited for his response.

Dean eyed her with curiosity, even a little bit of awe. She was incredible. And hot, goddamn. When their eyes met, Y/N smiled the most stunning smile he’d ever seen. All of a sudden, their little incident didn’t seem so wrong anymore. The mark was quiet now.

Dean, too, bit his lower lip, contemplating his reply. Sleeping with his best friend was a risky game. A stupid idea. Destined to fail. Finally, he settled on a gruff, “You sure?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, I mean… That was good, right?” As casually as she could, Y/N shrugged her shoulders, trying not to show the anxiety that was starting to overthrow her boldness. “Next time we need a relief, why not help each other?”

Once again, Dean felt a shiver run down his spine. His mind was yelling at him not to agree. But his emotions urged him to take his chance. “Yeah, why not?”

“Great.” Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. “It’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” he echoed, tilting his mouth up in a half-smile.

With a wink in Dean’s direction, Y/N exited the public bathroom first. Leaving him to stare after her with wonder.

Despite that night, nothing more happened between the two of them in the following weeks. Neither of them brought up the sex, the Mark of Cain, or their agreement.

Dean wanted to bring it up so bad, though. Well, actually, he wanted to go to Y/N’s room down the hall and do all kinds of naughty things to her. As he sat on his bed, he thought about how much he wanted to explore every inch of her body. His mark needed to be fed. And he had a feeling that wrecking Y/N was going to feed it just as well as killing something.

With a sigh, he tossed his closed laptop to the side, watching it bounce across the memory foam. He frowned and looked down at the shirt he was wearing – the Hookup Henley.

Thanks to their night out together, Y/N was all Dean could think about whenever he was wearing it. Her scent had long since faded from his Henley, but he could still feel her fingers tug on the fabric if he imagined it hard enough. He could still hear her moan for him. He still recalled how loved she’d made him feel.

Dean looked up from his shirt when there was a knock on his door. Wearing a frown on his face, he got up from his bed and walked across his room on sock-clad feet.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Y/N standing on the other side, all dressed up. Her hair was done in loose curls. Her little black dress fit her body like a glove. Her eyes beamed up at him through long lashes. She was stunning. Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “You goin’ out?”

Y/N observed his face, almost getting lost in his large, beautiful eyes. “I was going to, but…,” she trailed off as she spotted the green Henley that clung tightly to his chest. Damn, she wanted to curl her fingers around the fabric all over again. She could even see his defined pecs through the shirt.

“You want me to go with you?”, Dean asked, pointing his finger down the hall. Sometimes, Y/N asked him to accompany her because she felt safer that way. This time, she wasn’t gonna have to beg him to go out. He would do anything to be close to her again. Even if that meant dancing among a crowd of strangers.

Y/N was sick and tired of not bringing up the fact that they’d had sex a few weeks ago. She craved Dean. She felt like she was going to explode if she stayed away from him. Even though they’d hooked up in a disgusting public bathroom, it was the most intense, intimate experience she’d ever had. “No… Actually… I don’t think I wanna go out anymore.”

“You wanna stay here? We could go downstairs and do some target practice...” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like a teenager who was asking for his very first date.

“No. No target practice.” Y/N took a step closer to him. Her hands came up to grab the collar of his Henley. It was now or never. She felt anxious, giddy. The way Dean eyed her – with curiosity, and wonder – made her feel alive.

“What do you want?”, Dean muttered lowly, his hot beath fanning across Y/N’s face. His heart was about ready to jump out of his chest. She was so close to him. His for the taking.

Y/N briefly looked away and kicked the door shut behind her. When she faced him again, there was a primal glimmer in her eyes.

The next few seconds felt like a lifetime to Dean. He knew she deserved better than him. He still had the Mark of Cain. He was dangerous. But if Y/N actually wanted him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He was going to give her everything he had.

“You.”

One single word and Dean was a goner. One single word made his whole miserable world come crashing down around him. Just a second later, his lips collided with hers in a fit of desperate desire. His self-control didn’t stand much of a chance.

Y/N’s hands went to his jaw, compelling Dean to kiss her even harder. His hands went to her ass and squeezed tightly, making her hum against his lips. Their tongues showed no mercy for each other. Dean wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and fisted part of her hair, pushing her as close to him as humanly possible.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean’s conscience mumbled in between heated kisses. His own voice sounded so far away, almost as if he wasn’t present in his own clouded mind.

“Shhh.” Y/N placed her finger against his kiss-swollen lips and gave Dean a smile. “Just shut up and take me to bed.” Then she pressed her mouth back to his for emphasis.

Dean’s heart took a leap. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, he lifted her up into his arms, swallowing her excited squeal with his mouth. He was overwhelmed by the sensations that flooded his whole body.

Still, the most prominent feeling was the ache in his forearm. The ache that haunted him whenever he did something wrong. But he couldn’t contain himself. He needed Y/N. God, he needed her so bad that he was willing to jeopardize their friendship – one of the best things he’d ever had.

As he pushed her down on his mattress, the urge to make her scream for him became almost unbearable. He felt like he was going to corrupt her. But as he thrust into her, he felt whole, sated. The mark thanked him for giving in.

Y/N was either going to be his savior or his downfall. And either way, he was going to take his chance.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12​ @golden-hoax​ 

#libre1rose8goes300 #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #reader insert #spn imagine #dean winchester angst #supernatural imagine #dean smut #dean angst #moc!dean #spnmixedbingo

[hintsofhoney]

Backstage

Pairing(s): Misha Collins x F!Reader

Summary: Something about Misha's outfit has really put you in the mood...

Square(s) Filled: Choking for @spnkinkbingo, choking kink for @anyfandomkinkbingo, convention for @spnmixedbingo​

Tags: 18+, thigh riding, dirty talk, light choking, light dom/sub dynamics

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Inspired by this picture from Vegas Con. Thank you to my lovely @deangirl93 for beta-ing🤍

You can also read me on Ao3!

SUPERNATURAL RPF MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Maybe it was the fucking pants he had chosen to wear today, ones that stretched out over his thighs whenever he sat down, or maybe it was his stupid little dark gray cardigan with a thick collar, his blue button-up polo peeking out from underneath it. Or maybe it was those two things combined that were doing it for you. Either way, you had been eyeing him all day, and now that the two of you were backstage, finally alone for a few minutes before his solo panel, you weren’t going to waste any time. It would be another five hours before the two of you would be back in the privacy of your hotel room, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to wait that long. You needed him. Now.

You locked the door behind you as you stepped through the threshold of the room, watching as Misha took a seat on the small couch against the wall. He was engrossed in his phone for the time being, the suspicious locking of the door going unnoticed by him. He set his device down beside him when he noticed you walking over, smiling up at you as you came to stand between his legs, his hands coming to rest on your waist. You bit your lip as you looked him over, your eyes landing on the way those fucking pants stretched over his thighs, a barely audible whimper — but a whimper, nonetheless — escaping you.

“You alright?” he asked sweetly, oblivious to your mood, cocking an eyebrow in question. God, that fucking eyebrow. No, you were not “alright”.

“Mhm,” you replied, bringing your hand to his hair, running your fingers through his dark locks. “I just…” you paused, placing one of your knees on the couch beside him, straddling his left thigh, “… really, really want you. Right now.” You ground down onto him, your hands coming to grip at his shoulders.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, no doubt collecting every last ounce of self control he had, before grabbing ahold of your wrists and pulling your hands off of his shoulders. “We can’t right now, love. I’ve got to be out there in —” he checked his watch, “fifteen minutes.” 

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “You’ve made me cum in a lot less than fifteen minutes.”

“Y/N,” he warned, his hold on your wrists tightening, his eyebrow raised as he stared up at you. 

You ground down again in response, a mischievous glint in your eye. 

“Oh, really?” he questioned, his tone lined with disbelief at your deliberate disobedience. 

You shrugged, repeating the action, the pressure it provided on your core more than enough to convince you to keep going, despite your boyfriend’s warnings.

Misha shook his head at you, his hands coming to grip at your hips as you kept going, your stare never leaving his. “If you cum on my thigh, it’ll be the last time for a week,” he warned, and honestly, you couldn’t care less. You were too worked up and it felt too good to stop now. You picked up the pace in response, surprising him even further. 

You looked down at his thigh, a wet spot beginning to show as your arousal seeped through your leggings, and he followed your gaze. “Fuck,” he breathed, noticing the darkening patch on his pants. He grabbed you underneath your chin, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, his eyes darkening. “You want everyone to see what a little slut you are, hm? Is that what this is about? You’re gonna leave a mess on my thigh for everyone out there to see?” 

You nodded in his grip, his words going straight to your core. 

“That’s not being a very good girl,” he scolded, pulling your face towards his and kissing you sloppily, hungrily, before breaking it, “but fuck, sometimes I love it when you’re bad.” He glanced down at his thigh again, then to the way your hips were moving, chasing your high. “That’s right, baby.” He moved his hand from your face to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to your windpipes. You gripped onto his forearm with both hands, on the edge of a release. “Go ahead, show me what a little slut you are,” he encouraged, giving your throat an extra squeeze, and that was enough to send you over the edge, coming undone on his thigh as you held back a scream. “Gooood,” he praised as you rode through it, and you could hear a smile in his voice. 

You collapsed on top of him moments later, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder, a low chuckle escaping him as he rubbed his hands gently up and down your back. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. 

You shrugged, trying to steady your breathing. “Think it was this outfit,” you mumbled into his cardigan.

“Is that why you decided to ruin it? I’m gonna have to change pants, baby,” he laughed softly.

A knock on the door startled the both of you. “Misha? They’re ready for you.”

“Shit.”

You giggled as you rolled off of him, and he quickly grabbed a napkin from the nearby coffee table and poured some water onto it from his plastic bottle. Trying to get your mess out only caused a bigger stain, and it wasn’t until the second knock on the door came that he finally decided to give up. 

“Coming!”

He shot you a look, one that said, “you’re in trouble”, before heading out the door. 

A few moments later, you could hear him on stage. “By the way guys, if you want to know how my day is going, I just spilled water on myself backstage, so that’s what all this is.”

You giggled to yourself, still in a state of post-orgasmic bliss as you stretched out on the couch and closed your eyes, thoughts of which punishment Misha had in store for you flooding your mind, not deterring you in the slightest. In fact, backstage might just be your new favorite place to push his buttons.​

#spnkinkbingo #anyfandomkinkbingo #spnmixedbingo #misha collins x reader #misha collins smut #misha collins

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart

Summary - Long distance relationships suck, especially if you can't be with Jensen on your birthday but Jensen has a few tricks up his sleeves to make your birthday better.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x You

WC - 2150

Warning - Slight Angst, Fluff, Birthday, swearing SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), p in v sex, almost getting caught and a little fluffy surprise.

Square Filled - • Long Distance Relationship AU ( @spnaubingo )

• Jensen Ackles ( @supernatural-jackles TMAS 2022)

• You didn't even here me out ( @taylorswiftbingo )

• Caught Red Handed ( @spnmixedbingo )

A/N - Holy shit! It's been so long since I posted something. Feelin' kinda rusty here lol. I reached 1.1k followers today so this is also a thank you gift to you guys for following me!

And Happy Birthday, Abby (super late but please accept this gift, yours truly, Chan)

Also Abby is a Swiftie, just like me. So purposely, I have put in some Taylor Swift song references. Have fun finding them!

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“I don't think I can fly back tomorrow.” Your eyes fluttered shut to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. When you opened them back, you saw the look of tremendous guilt and sadness on your boyfriend's face. You didn't want to cry in front of him and cloud his mind with more agony yet a stray tear managed to roll down your cheek. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. The covid protocols are…you know how it is…fuck, I miss you so much and it's fuckin’ killing me that I can't be there with you on your birthday.”

“Jay, don't. It's not your fault.” You said, placing down the ipad on the table and leaned back on the couch. You always thought the long distance relationship came with too much emotional baggage and pain but you were willing to accept them all because you fell for Jensen so hard and fast and the thought of living without him scared the shit out of you. “Just two more months and then I can move to the States and it'll be okay.”

“I know but–”

“Jensen…” you sighed.

“You didn't even hear me out.”

“What more can you say?”

“I miss you. These face times are not enough anymore. I-I want you…sweetheart, I need you with me, hold you close as I drift off to sleep and wake up with you in my arms. I just…need you here. A-and I'm tryin’ to get through the protocols.” Jensen's green eyes were clouded with emotions, the loneliness weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“Even if you don't make it to the flight, know that it's alright. We'll make it work. We always do.” You offered him a sad smile. You were seven thousand miles away from him. You knew that if he didn't get on that flight within the next three hours, he wouldn't be here with you on your birthday and it sucked. Just like him, you needed him with you. You missed him so bad.

Jensen didn't say anything for the next few minutes. It was something you did often. No words said. You just wanted to be in each other's company even if it was through the illuminated screen of your respective electronic devices.

“I love you,” you said to him and he flashed you his most beautiful smile. The type of smile that instantly lit up your world and made you happy. The type of smile you adorned a lot. The type of smile that feels like you're home. He was your home.

“I love you too.” He said, “I'll do my best.”

“I know you will, Jay.” He nodded.

It was your birthday but it didn't feel like one. Since the morning, you hadn't heard from Jensen and you were worried out of your mind. In the evening, you stood there in your party dress, looking around at the smiling faces of your friends but there was one thing missing. You kept checking your phone. You wanted him to be here so you got your eyes on the door hoping he would walk in any minute but he didn't. And that's when the feeling sank in.

You were going to spend your birthday without Jensen.

You blew out the candles, your eyes burning with the unshed tears. You tried to smile for the guests and laugh with your friends but your heart was filled with despair.

It was close to ten. You were lying on your bed after making an excuse of not feeling well. Your close friends had lingered around for a while before they left. That's when you heard your sister call for you.

You sighed and pulled the covers close to you, not willing to socialise with anyone further. You heard the door creak open.

“Go away,” you grumbled.

“I didn't spend the last thirteen hours on a flight to hear this, sweetheart.” You sat up and your heart did a somersault in your chest. You knew this voice all too well and you missed hearing the way it reverberated off the walls surrounding you, providing you some deep comfort.

“Jensen?” You sprinted towards the figure of a man lingering at the doorway and crashed into him, colliding with his firm chest as a pair of arms came up to wrap themselves around you. He brought your face to his and kissed your lips. Tears threatened to spill as your lips molded with his. You missed him so much.

He picked you up and you jumped to hook your legs at his waist and he let out a chuckle. With you in his arms, he walked towards the bed and put you down gently on the soft mattress.

“Hi, baby. Happy birthday.” He said.

“Hi.” Your words were a mere whisper as Jensen traced the outline of your face with his finger and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Where are you goin’?” You asked as he got up to close the door.

“I have something for you.” Jensen said as he closed the door to the room behind him. You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes. “Get your mind outta the gutter.”

You pouted and he said, “I'm saving that present for later. But first–” he took a deep breath “--I want you to have this.”

You watched as he slowly went down on one knee. Eyes wide, you saw as he pulled out a jewellery box out of his jacket’s pocket. You gasped, standing up while he opened the box in front of you to reveal a ring inside.

“Jens…”

“Y/N, I…Holy shit, I thought this will be easy after practicing for the last five hours straight–” you laughed, a tear rolling down your cheek “--Sweetheart, I had this big, beautiful speech prepared but as soon as I stepped in this room, all I can see, all I think of is you. You remember what I told you last night? I want that, I want you and I want us. Every night when I go to sleep I want to feel you in my arms and know that I’m right where I’m supposed to be and then in the early morning, I want to be woken up by our kids jumping on us demanding breakfast. I’m so grateful for you every second. I’m grateful that somehow in this crazy universe with infinite possibilities, I met you.”

You were clearly sobbing and through the tears you said, “Yay, comic con!”

He chuckled and continued, “In you I have found the love that I never knew I needed. You're my favourite human in the whole universe. There are many ways to be happy but all I need is you. So Y/N Y/L/N, make me the happiest person in the world and say yes, please?”

“Of course, yes! I will marry you, Jensen Ross Ackles!” You said and he grinned before putting the ring on your finger. He stood up and immediately pulled you for a kiss. It was enchanting and precious.

“I missed you, fuck…” he breathed in with his nose buried in the crook of your neck before moving his mouth to the south. You gasped, pulling your lip in between your teeth to stop the moan that was threatening to leave you as his lips found the sweet spot on your neck.

“Jay…we can't–”

“Why?” He asked.

“Everyone is present downstairs. I don't trust myself to not make a noise.” You said.

“I just need to feel you. Please,” he panted as he bucked his hips and his bulge grazed past your thighs. A whimper escaped your lips and you knew it would be impossible to not make a noise if Jensen carried on with his actions. But as much as he needed you, you needed him as well. It had been too damn long. So you reached out, roughly trying to get him out of his pants.

He smirked, raising a brow. “We got ten minutes. I need you inside me, now.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He pushed you down on the bed behind you, hiking up your skirt and discarding your panties, before shoving down his pants along with his boxers. He wrapped his palm around his cock, giving it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. His swollen tip nudged at your wet pussy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you're fuckin’ wet.”

“You have been away for way too long!” You said, followed by a hiss as he pushed himself inside you at a tantalising pace. Your lips fell open to form an ‘O’ as he remained seated inside you, filling you to the brim. He started to move, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself in again, the move making you moan. Once he found his rhythm, he continued to thrust into you and you bucked your hips to match with his moves. His hand moved to rub at your clit and you cried out in utmost pleasure. Even after months of being apart, he knew how to get you going. Deliriously you both chased down your release. His thrusts had become more rough and small groans left his lips, filling the room.

He pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves on your pussy and you were really close to your climax. His thrusts became erratic and a knot formed in the pit of your stomach.

“Jay–” your moan was ungraciously cut off by a knock on your door. Your eyes widened in shock and the same surprise was clearly evident on Jensen's face.

“Fuck–” he groaned, his pace faltering a bit but he kept circling his hips to not lose his rhythm. “Answer.”

“What?” You whispered but the look on his face sent a shiver down your back. The thrill of almost getting caught was such a turn on for him. As you opened your mouth to answer to whoever was on the other end of the door, he picked up his pace. Asshole.

You suppressed a moan and asked, “What is it?”

“Is Jensen stayin’ for dinner?” It was your sister who asked the question.

“Y-yeah–” you bit into your lip “--yeah he is.”

“Come for me. I need you to come for me.” You were so close and with another deep thrust, your coil finally snapped as a wave of sheer ecstasy washed over you. The scream that almost left your lips was swallowed by Jensen as he kissed you hard. He continued to fuck you through you release, his thrust never faltering s he closed on to his own climax. A few more thrusts and he spilled into you, coating your walls with his seed and growling when he came. He slowly stopped his thrusts, lazily circling his hips, until he went soft inside you.

“Holy shit!” He chuckled, and pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss of him.

“Holy shit, indeed.” You panted and kissed the crown of your head softly and towards the bathroom to clean himself up. When you finally found your strength to walk, you followed his lead and went to the bathroom.

“I was gonna bring you a washcloth.” He said and you ruffled his hair, knowing how much he loved washing you and cuddling with you after sex.

“Well thank you for being a gentleman but we need to go downstairs as soon as possible.” You said before stepping in front of him to clean yourself.

It was a little over ten minutes after your sister called you for dinner, that you and Jensen went downstairs. He had cleaned up, changed into a much more comfortable sweatpants and tshirt and brushed his sex hair but the post coitus bliss on both your face was clearly visible and it got a raised brow from your sister. If the others had taken notice, they refrained from saying anything which soon turned into a huge ruckus of congratulations when you announced your engagement.

Later that night, you and Jensen were lying on the couch with your sister sitting in the chair as you three watched a movie when she said, “I can't keep covering for your asses.”

“What do you mean?”

“You guys were so not quiet. Thankfully, I turned up the music!” Your mouth fell open and a heat of embarrassment crept up your neck while Jensen just laughed.

“Can't help it when my fiancée is so hot.” Jensen said.

“Ew. Jensen, that's my sister, you're talking about.” She scrunched up her nose in disgust, “You guys are insufferable! I'm going to bed. Don't you dare christen the couch with your nonsense!”

“Can't make any promises!” You and Jensen yelled back together and when your sister gagged, you both laughed loudly and continued to watch the movie.

The end credits rolled in. You sighed, letting your head rest against his chest. He kissed your head, whispering, “I love you.”

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x y/n #jensen fluff #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen fic #jensen fanfic #supernatural #spn #taylorswiftbingo #spnmixedbingo #tell me a story bingo #spnaubingo

[justagirlinafandomworld]

Title: Drowning in Silence

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Gen!Reader

Word Count: 894

Summary: Silence feeds the insecurities deep within. You can either drown in it, or break it.

Warnings: ANGST. Break-up. Low self-worth.

Bingo Squares Filled: @spnmixedbingo – dream sequence. @howbadcanitbebingo - woke up, and it was all a dream.

A/N: This is written for @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s nlthreenager writing challenge, celebrating her blog’s three-year anniversary with so many good angsty prompts. My prompt was you can’t deny how hard I tried from the song Easy On Me by Adele. Watch out Bee, I may be back for more! To everyone, I hope this breaks your heart just a lil’. 😘

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

Reds and yellows swirled into oranges and pinks on the far-off horizon as you stood on the first step of the porch. Sleeves folded at your elbows, shielded you from the brisk evening breeze blowing through.

Silently, you had watched as he packed up his things from the house you used to share. Watched him cinch, buckle and toss up the bags of his life into the backseat of the chevy.

Your coffee had gone cold as you sat at the kitchen table in the early hours of the morning, listening to the floors creak overhead as he went through the drawers and closet in the bedroom.

It had been one argument too many. Another misunderstanding that had shattered your heart; another patch he couldn’t bring himself to tend. After all, his own pride had been hurt. His loyalty questioned once again.

So, he packed, and you waited.

Broken hearts in the air, desperate for a word of comfort, but much too wounded to offer the care.

Now, with the last door slammed on his things, he circled the vehicle, his boots crunching in the gravel of the driveway. His intention clear, to slip behind the wheel and drive away without so much as a goodbye.

Hand gripping tightly to the banister, you stepped forward, attempting to call his name to try to fix this. But your body betrayed you; throat closing so that a single word could not crawl out.

But your movement was enough to catch his eye and give him pause.

His face was perfectly smoothed to keep his emotions below the surface. Yet, he must have seen everything on yours, for the coolness of his gaze wavered on a blink. Sorrow washed across his handsome features, his head tilting as if under the weight of it all.

And just as you couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move as instinct urged him to. Urged him to take you into his arms, pull you close into his chest and shield you from all the pain.

Tears dotted his lashes, his face flushed, and his lips parted but found he had no words.

You stepped down, just one shaky step.

“I,” his voice sounded on an exhalation. You could see him tearing himself apart for the chance to blow it all into the wind and just stay. “You can’t deny, how hard I tried for us.”

Your hand gripped tighter, halting your decent on the porch steps.

You knew.

Of course, you did.

All the times he held you up when the world was too much. The times he cradled you with whispers of affirmation and adoration when the demons in your head were shrieking your worthlessness.

He had been a well of love and light in your life.

But you had been too greedy.

And now he stood before you, hollow and struggling to give himself a chance at happiness that he deserved.

Your love for him in that moment overshadowed every ounce of despair. Swallowing every emotion to mimic the calm surface he had held all day; you lifted your chin and held his gaze.

In this one moment, you would be strong.

For him.

“Drive safe.”

His watery, green eyes flicked back and forth between yours, confused and searching for the truth. With a deep inhale, his lips pressed into a line and his shoulders straightened. His slight nod before turning away almost broke your resolve.

Still, you stood tall, watching as he slid behind the wheel to drive out of your life forever. And when the dust finally settled after he disappeared over the horizon, you slowly fell to sit, legs sprawled across the steps.

He took with him the sun and warmth of the day, and all the light in your life.

Your heart broke completely, like a star exploding in your chest, burning and destructive. Your sobs carried log into the night and still never long enough.

The pain in your chest carried over into the waking world and when your eyes slowly opened, tears fell from your lashes onto your folded arms. For a moment you didn’t know where you were, until the smell of freshly brewed coffee registered. You were home, in the bunker with the boys.

Lifting yourself from the table, you pieced together that you had fallen asleep while helping Sam research ways to remove the Mark of Cain. The last book you had been reading laid open and useless before you.

Steps approached from behind and a mug full of steaming coffee was placed on the table beside you.

“I wish you wouldn’t pull all-nighters on this,” Dean spoke on an exhalation.

His voice rang deep in your still aching chest so that you couldn’t immediately respond or even think about thanking him for the coffee. When he circled the table to peer over the books you had torn through the night before, you could only stare.

Between the loss in the dream and the waking fear of losing him in the real world, you found there was only one thing you wanted to make clear.

“I love you.”

Dean’s entire body froze one second and the next his eyes flashed up to yours, his face carefully smoothed to keep everything under the surface.

You didn’t know if it was the start of a goodbye or a hello.

But he needed to know.

#nlthreenager #howbadcanitbebingo #spnmixedbingo #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester/reader #dean winchester/you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean/reader #dean/you #dean winchester angst #spn reader insert #reader insert #spn #supernatural reader insert #dean winchester reader insert

[calaofnoldor]

In Your Dreams

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, Garth

Words: 7,393

Summary: In a world where your dreams are your soulmate's memories, a call to Garth for backup changes Sam's life forever. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: heavily implied smut, angst, the slightest allusion to ptsd, flashes of huffy!sam (is this just a thing in all my fics now??), fluff, language as always, also i was deep in my sam girl feels when i wrote this so please proceed with caution.

A/N: written for @idabbleincrazy’s "what do you mean this is classic rock?" 1k follower celebration! my prompt was the song "are you gonna be my girl" by jet and the quote "oh, come on!" which is bolded in the fic. also written for @swiftlymoniquesblog’s 300 followers celebration, for which i chose the song "confident" by demi lovato from her playlist.

congratulations to both you lovely babes!! i am SO sorry that this is incredibly late and probably not what you wanted lol. it really got away from me and i didn't know how to deal with it so here's 7k words that literally no one asked for 😂

Square Filled: Soulmate AU for @spnfluffbingo; Garth for @spnmixedbingo; Mistaken Identity for @girl-next-door-writes’s make me feel bingo; Soulmates for @samwinchesterbingo

MASTERLIST

It played out like a movie scene. Sam’s breath halted the minute the rusty ‘78 Ford Ranchero pulled up to the motel, frozen as he watched the passenger side door open in slow motion, making way for one black booted foot after another to step out onto the pavement. Attached to them was the most beautiful pair of legs he had ever seen, and Sam was only vaguely aware of his continuously drooping jaw as his eyes roamed up the rest of your figure, utterly and unprecedentedly thunderstruck when you flung your hair over your shoulder like a model in a goddamn shampoo commercial.

You oozed confidence, which was sexy as hell, but it was much more than that. Something deep within him startled awake, and it wasn’t just his man parts twitching with interest, though that definitely happened when you adjusted your daisy dukes and caused your top to ride up ever so subtly. God, you must’ve been the most sublime being to ever cross his path. Sam could hear Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” playing in the background, but it was impossible to tell whether the sound was coming from the car speakers or his own head.

Either way, the music was cut short when Garth killed the engine and sauntered around his coupe with a winning smile. “Heeey brothers! I brought backup! Allow me to introduce you,” he offered excitedly, throwing a casual arm around you when he got to your side, a gesture that seemed to send Sam’s heart leaping off a cliff, “Guys, this is Y/N and Y/N, these are the Winchesters, Dean and Sam.”

Sam tried to smile but you seemed so comfortable and content beneath Garth’s touch, he really wasn’t ready for the sour taste of envy that rose inside him, filling his throat like acid reflux.

“Garth, you wily son of a bitch!” called his brother from beside him. Sam didn’t need to look over to picture the smirk of approval Dean was sporting, and the thought alone brought forth more bile, which he desperately tried to swallow down with a couple violent bobs of his Adam’s apple.

“Oh Deano,” Garth shook his tilted head as he genuinely professed, “you always say the nicest things to me.” And as he launched himself towards Dean with puppy-like fervor for a somewhat one-sided hug, Sam felt bad about the groundless feelings of resentment he’d began to harbor for the scrawny yet respectable hunter. Still, he couldn’t help but try to catch your eye during the reprieve, only to find your soft gaze fixed on Garth’s back while the slightest vestige of a smile ghosted across your divine features.

She’s taken, Sam. Soulmates most likely, with the way you’re looking at the guy, his brain augmented bitterly. Damn it, Garth really was one lucky son of a bitch.

“And don’t think you’re not getting one too, Sam!” the oblivious bastard let go of Dean and came at Sam with open arms and nothing but love, so with a forced smile and mind full of warring thoughts, the younger Winchester had no choice but to awkwardly accept.

“So did you get us rooms yet?” Garth asked when he finally pulled away, “You know I’d love to bunk with you guys but ever since Y/N’s gotten used to my snoring, we’ve kinda become a package deal, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, I sure do, buddy!” Dean exclaimed with a lewd grin, “Yours is Room 4B, but we’re right next door in 4A so try and keep that in mind when you’re uh- snoring it up, will ya?”

Having long since grown accustomed to Dean’s base brand of humor, Sam was surprised when he realized his usual reflexive eye roll had been supplanted with a deep breath and forceful clench of his teeth.

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise we’ll be quiet as mice through the night!” Garth’s good-natured retort felt like a twisting blade through Sam’s chest. He pulled his brows together and placed a large palm tentatively above his heart, unable to understand why the involuntary reaction felt so tangible as he watched Garth set off.

Following suit, you grabbed some luggage from the Ranchero’s cargo bed and made for your room. Sam knew he should try to stay away from you, but like a magnetic field, you pulled him in, so when he turned around to see you strutting by, Sam fumbled to help you with your duffle. But the fierce glare you shot him quickly stopped him in his tracks and he only barely managed to stay upright as he backtracked and scurried out of your way, big feet and long legs suddenly forgetting their own size.

“Woah, get it together, little bro,” Dean sniggered as soon as you were out of earshot, “You alright there, kiddo? I’ve never seen you fall so hard so fast… almost literally,” he teased, ignoring the bitch face Sam sent him in response, “Think you can make it through this hunt without jumping Garth’s girl?”

This time Sam did roll his eyes, though he left the question unanswered, feeling a bit skeptical himself.

“You think they’re soulmates?” Dean wondered aloud, turning to look off in the direction you’d gone, “Not sure how else to explain that. But either way, damn, did Fitzgerald hit a home run there!”

Sam was speechless as he stared alongside his brother, choked up on the unshakable yet impossible suspicion that you were somehow… his. But that couldn’t be, could it? Even if you weren’t with Garth, there was no way for him to know for sure. The demon blood Yellow Eyes had fed him as a baby inhibited his soulmate bond so not once could he remember dreaming of their memories, and Sam had never been more disappointed by the fact.

The case was cracked with almost no help from Sam, as his ability to focus on anything other than you proved a hopeless and desolate enterprise. Paired with the way his impetuous attempts to connect with you in any sense were harshly rebuffed by that gorgeous yet venomous get back stare of yours, and Sam was a complete mess of shaky hands and pained smiles. So when you announced you’d be retiring early for the night, claiming to want catch up on some rest before the big monster showdown the next day, Sam was both crestfallen and relieved.

“Have a good night,” Garth gave you a meaningful look that Sam couldn’t begin to decipher, a cruel reminder of the inexplicable nature of soulmate connections.

“So… what’s up with Y/N?” Dean asked whilst Sam was still gazing in vain at the door you’d left through.

“Oh, she’s uh… she’s complicated,” Garth responded slowly, nodding along to himself as an uncharacteristic expression of melancholy replaced the grin on his face, “Most people think she’s outta her mind… I mean, she’s not! …But it’s a pretty common misconception,” he shrugged in a ‘what-can-ya-do’ type of way, but the Winchesters’ frowns prompted him to continue, “She’s just… had it kinda rough, ya know? And the people around her haven’t exactly been empathetic about it all so she’s put up some walls over time and she comes off a bit strong and standoffish to most, but her heart’s in the right place and she really is a fantastic hunter so you don’t have to worry about her having your backs out there tomorrow, eh?”

Dean seemed to subscribe to this explanation, but the hunt wasn’t what Sam was worried about. Now, on top of the need to be close to you, he was also experiencing a compelling urge to hold you, understand you, and comfort you in whatever way you needed. His entire body throbbed with the desire to run to the adjoining room and kick the door in just to breathe the same air as you again, while his fingers itched to touch you – brush the hair from your eyes, caress your cheek, envelope your hand, explore other areas… Maybe in your dreams, Sam... He almost laughed at the ironic mockery of that saying, but instead pushed the corners of his mouth up as sincerely as he could before proceeding to ponder his inner dilemma with his elbows on his knees.

FIVE HOURS LATER

You awoke to your own scream, bolting upright and gasping for air. Shit. That one had been particularly bad; you’d probably made a lot of noise. Glancing over at the other bed in your room, you weren’t surprised to find Garth starfish-ing above the sheets and blissfully unconscious. That was part of why you liked the guy: he could sleep through just about anything, that and he’d never once judged you by the nightmares that plagued you since birth and reflected your soulmate’s preposterous life thus far.

Wait. As you blinked, you realized something felt different. On impulse, your eyes fluttered shut, but the flashing image of a malicious face that appeared behind your eyelids had them flying open in an instant. That was weird. You never remembered the faces from your dreams.

The names and faces always became blurry as soon as you woke up, but it’s said that once you meet and identify your soulmate, it all comes rushing back to you through a mental, movie-like recap of their life story up until that point, although exceptions to this rule weren’t unheard of, and many believed that every soulmate connection was unique.

Regardless, there was one thing you could never forget about your dreams, and that was the way they made you feel. Or was it the way your soulmate had felt? Starting from a tender young age, you’d dreamed nearly every night, so frequently they were beginning to feel like your own memories. You knew the in-depth tale of your soulmate’s existence, shared just about all of his experiences. From waiting alone in crummy motel rooms as a kid, overcome with the fear and anxiety of not knowing when or if his dad and brother would ever return from a hunt, to being physically and emotionally tortured and violated within a magical cage where time and the limits of the human body adhered to no laws, and his abuser wore a smile that could light his veins on fire, as you’d just had the pleasure of envisioning.

More often than not, your dreams were nightmares, and you’d make sounds of protest as you slept. It was why you had chosen to hit the sack early, with the hopes that their drunken hunter rowdiness might help mask your shouts. But it hadn’t been easy to walk away, harder still to fall asleep. Something had been eating at your subconscious since you got here, or rather someone. Most of the time, you avoided people at all costs, so often that it’d become instinct, but you found yourself actually wanting to be around that stupidly tall Winchester, to the point where it almost hurt to pry yourself away from him. And now that you’d recalled a face from your dream for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help but wonder…

No. Don’t get your hopes up, Y/N. There was no way. Sam was far too… normal. Besides, you’d imagined what your soulmate might look like before, and even in your wildest concoctions, he hadn’t looked that good. You’d kept your defences up until now so you weren’t about to let them drop just because you ran into a pretty boy. You really did need to stop thinking about him though, maybe grab a glass of water to soothe your sore throat.

Sam couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing as he laid atop the scratchy covers and stared at the ceiling. If the hunt went well tomorrow, you’d be riding off into the sunset in Garth’s Ranchero without so much as a ‘goodbye’. He couldn’t let that happen, not when every atom of his being was propelling him towards you, screeching at him to get his girl. But you weren’t his. You were with Garth. So why couldn’t he just respect that?

With a sigh, Sam let his eyes fall shut, squeezing them tight in a pointless effort to erase the image of you from the backs of his eyelids, but they shot wide open again when he heard your voice cry out from the next room.

Sam was up before he knew what he was doing. There was only one thing of which he was certain: you didn’t sound like you were in the midst of pleasure. You sounded like you were in pain, and that set every hair on his arm erect.

He noticed his breathing was harder than usual as well when he quietly got to his feet and crept toward the shared wall between your rooms, although he couldn’t seem to constrain it. Pressing his ear against the peeling wallpaper, he listened to your whimpers and wails crescendo until they peaked with a harrowing yell that made his heart feel as if it would burst through his ribcage. Dean grumbled in his sleep and rolled over but Sam was frozen in his spot, despite the erratic pumping of blood through his lengthy vessels.

It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of your bedsprings turn into running water in the communal dining area when Sam finally moved, drawing a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He didn’t know what to say to you, but he knew he had to try, so he made sure to let his footsteps carry sound and make himself appear as small as possible as he opened the back door and walked into the kitchenette.

You were standing by the counter, facing away from him, but before he could take another step, you’d whirled around with a gun in your hands, aimed directly at his heart.

Sam’s hands shot up before he whisper-shouted, “Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s just me! It’s me!”

Advancing toward him without lowering your gun, you produced a flask from out of nowhere and threw its contents on Sam’s face before he could react.

He blinked the wetness away as you finally dropped your weapon, shrugging through a half-hearted apology, “Sorry, you can never be too careful on a demon case,” you explained lowly, flashing him the label that read ‘holy water’ before tucking the silver flask back into your pocket.

You took a moment to examine him, aggrieved that he somehow looked even better when he was wet. Trying to be cool about it, you crossed your arms across your chest and waited as he wiped a huge hand down his face.

The first words to come out of his sinful lips after your unceremonious attack took you by surprise, “Are you OK?”

“What?” It sounded harsher than you’d meant it and you had to remind yourself to stand down. He’d given you no reason to get combative; on the contrary, something about him just screamed… good.

“I- I heard you… it sounded like you were having a pretty bad nightmare.”

You gave him a slight nod, gulping your usual defense mechanisms back down your throat, “Oh, yeah… my soulmate has um… been through some things.” It was impossible not to huff at your own dramatic understatement.

“Right, yeah, I’m sure Garth has seen his fair share of monsters and other ordeals in his life.”

“Wh- what do you mean, Garth?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Sorry, I just assumed that you guys were soulmates with the way you are and… everything,” Sam confessed with an adorable cock of his head.

You nearly laughed out loud, “Garth isn’t my soulmate. I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if he were, but we’ve exchanged dreams before and our souls definitely aren’t tied together.”

“Oh,” he heaved a sigh that seemed to emanate relief, “So the whole uh… ‘snoring’ thing is-”

“A cover. He knows I get loud during nightmares, and we room together because he has the unique ability to sleep through an entire torture sequence being played out in my head, as he just proved again tonight.” Shit. What are you doing, Y/N? Stop talking. “Oh, I should probably apologize for waking you. You can go back to bed though; I’ve gotten enough sleep for the night.”

Sam’s eyes were wide as he shook his head emphatically, “No, you didn’t wake me! I- I couldn’t sleep anyway. But please, don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” he beseeched with soft, imploring eyes that you immediately dreamed of letting yourself melt into. “Y-you said you were being tortured in your dream?”

Forcing a deep breath through your nose, you slowly conceded, “Well yeah, or at least remembering it the way my soulmate does, I guess… if he even exists.” The last four words were added sourly beneath your breath, but Sam caught them right away.

“You don’t think your soulmate exists?”

You looked up to find his eyebrows drawn together, color-changing eyes fraught with genuine concern. You weren’t sure why you were still talking to him but something about the guy made you feel safe, impelled you to open up to him, “I find it hard to believe he’s still out there functioning like a normal human being with all the shit he’s gone through... I mean, if I’ve been ostracized just for telling people about my dreams, I can’t imagine how he’s survived.”

“You’ve been ostracized because of the things your soulmate remembers?!”

The way he seemed almost offended for you buttered you up even more, “Yeah, Garth is pretty much the only friend I have left,” you admitted with a quiet, sardonic laugh.

There was pity in Sam’s eyes now, a reaction that had always irked you virtually just as much as the fear and revulsion, but it was clear that his was forged out of empathy rather than the usual disdain. And it didn’t stand alone among the emotions displayed across his face. His expression seemed to say ‘please, tell me more,’ and you did.

“I was raised in the suburbs by conservative folks who knew nothing about the supernatural… so they thought I was out of my mind the first time I told them about my dreams, took me to a soulmate bond expert and everything, tried to ‘fix’ me. When they couldn’t, they ignored me, soundproofed my bedroom walls while telling everyone I was crazy. Pretty much disowned me as soon I turned eighteen, fearing I might bring home a sociopathic serial killer one day. Word got around and people avoided me like I was a ticking time bomb. When I started hunting and finally made some friends in that community, I thought they’d be more understanding, but it turns out some things aren’t normal or acceptable even on hunter terms. So, I never really told anyone again, never tried to make friends again. Until Garth came along, that is.”

A small smile took hold of your lips, as it always did when you thought about the lanky and lovable dork, “He never judged me by my nightmares, never treated me any differently, never looked at me through a lens of apprehension.”

“Well, I’m glad you found him,” Sam said, a closed-lip smile of his own peeking through the stubble. Then, after a pregnant pause, “I don’t mean to intrude, but h-have you ever considered breaking your bond, you know, just to stop the nightmares?”

“Never.” Your response was instantaneous and adamant. “I couldn’t. If I-… He’s overcome odds of impossible proportions, suffered fates that no one should ever have to endure, despite doing nothing wrong, been blamed for things that were either completely out of his control or that he was manipulated into doing through a kind heart and good intentions-” you had to stop yourself before you got too riled up.

“You talk like you’re already in love with him,” Sam observed.

“Well, it’s hard not to be. It’s also why I stopped giving a fuck about what other people think of him. I used to try and hide it, lie about what I’d dream of, but they’d always find out. And then I realized it didn’t matter to me because I’ll always side with him, and having narrow-minded people in your life is such a chore anyway.”

“But how can you be so sure of someone you’ve never met?” There was no malice in his tone or body language, only earnest curiosity, and it made you wonder how someone so large could be so very cute.

“Because if he exists, he’s a hero.”

“Well if he’s so great, why does everyone in your life run away from the idea of him?” Sam chuckled lightly, but you thought you heard something that resembled envy within his words. Maybe people were right, maybe you really were out of your mind.

“Because he’s done things that most people can’t even begin to imagine, not even a hunter. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you half the things I’ve dreamt of.”

Though you didn’t expect to be rewarded with another glimpse of those splendid dimples, you were nonetheless grateful as they seemed to fill your chest with unfathomable peace and irrefutable joy. “Try me,” he said, with a beckoning grin.

“Well, I mean for starters, he’s been through literal hell.”

Sam’s jaw suddenly hung a littler looser, but you’d encountered far more theatrical receptions.

“Yeah, he’s been dealt some real shitty cards,” you started, “Been tormented by pure evil in more than every imaginable way for longer than any conceivable human lifetime, been stripped of his bodily autonomy and rights more times than I can count, been used and manipulated by a demon since he was a literal baby, and that’s on top of losing nearly everyone he’s ever loved including both parents at a young age… But did I mention he managed to stop the fucking apocalypse?”

The surprise on his face was more palpable now, and you almost laughed at his frozen expression.

“And we haven’t even gotten to the bizarre stuff yet. Would you believe me if I told you he’s died more than once? Or that he’s met a prophet who writes books about he and his brother’s lives? Oh, he also once traveled to an alternate universe where his doppelgänger was the actor who played him on a TV show. And, there was even a period of time, about a year ago, when the dreams got all fuzzy, which I later learned was because he was-“

“Soulless.” Sam finished your sentence with such gravity, it felt like the entire earth lurched beneath your feet.

“H-how did you know th-“ But even as you spoke the words, it dawned on you: that there was a reason you’d felt drawn to him, that he was in fact the answer to everything, the person you’d been dreaming of your entire life. And in that moment, you discovered that the stories were true, because your question was both interrupted and answered by a sudden onslaught of images flashing through your head, a fast-forwarded montage of every memory you’d ever dreamed, in chronological order, with the names and faces all filled in.

You doubled over and closed your eyes as Sam’s life replayed itself in your mind, unaware that you were panting loudly and clutching at your head until his beautiful yet distraught voice faded back into the forefront.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you OK?!”

Sam’s hand instinctively reached out for you, but when it made contact with your arm, his brain was instantly flooded with moving images of a young girl, developing rapidly into the woman standing in front of him through what must have been every momentous memory he’d been denied the privilege of seeing, forcing him to recoil and mirror your startled stance.

So when you finally reopened your eyes, it was to see Sam bent nearly in half, close-eyed and open-mouthed, while big hands grasped at the luscious mane on his head.

“Guess I should be the one asking you that,” you laughed, but the way his chest visibly rose and fell when he straightened back up made you feel breathless again, “Did you just-“

“Yeah,” he exhaled, shutting his eyes once more before blinking repeatedly, as if he could still see the images, “And I’m guessing you also-“

“Yeah,” you parroted, glancing up at Sam with an awestruck expression that unwittingly floored him with its beauty, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

The elaborate fortress you’d built around your heart and soul after an entire lifetime of facing scorn and neglect and repugnance from nearly everyone around you had effortlessly dissolved at his touch, and as you fully came to terms with the giant revelation before you, something within you gave way, letting every emotion you were feeling appear written across your face.

“You’re real?” Your whispered words sounded just as much a statement as they did a question, though in reality, they might have been a plea.

Taking a small, wary step toward him as your eyes flickered between his, your hand – with a mind of its own – slowly reached up to embrace his chiseled jaw, and your lips were incapable of resisting their joyous quirk when his light stubble tickled your palm and the skin beneath it proved warm and solid.

His long fingers wrapped around your wrist reverently, “Yeah, baby, I’m real.”

Your breath hitched at the gorgeous depth of his voice. “How are you real? And so fucking gorgeous?” you breathed, fingers dancing across his cheekbones before reveling in the silky softness of his hair, “And tall? I mean, I kinda guessed you’d be on the above average side with the way most people look up at you in your memories but jeez... You’re perfect.” Your body moved on its own accord as it traveled the short distance to anchor itself against his, wasting no time to pull him down and kiss him with every ounce of ‘you’ you could muster, to which Sam instantly and eagerly responded.

It was easily the best kiss of your life, decades worth of anticipation that balanced a delicate pendulum swaying between hope and desperation, combined with the fierce love you already felt for this impossibly perfect man poured through you until it found its release in Sam’s mouth.

He slid his fingers into the hair behind your neck, cradling the back of your head, while his other massive hand settled in the valley of your waist, pulling you snug into him until you could feel the lines of his abs. “You’re pretty damn perfect yourself. Been dreaming of this since I saw you step outta that damn car.”

“Yeah?” The single, slightly smug word was all you could articulate.

“Fuck yeah, that’s why seeing you with Garth felt like such a cruel joke, especially since I’d never had a single dream of your memories until I touched you just now, so there was no way for me to gauge anything.”

“Right, I guess I should’ve been more alert, but I figured brothers hunting together wasn’t all that uncommon. Can’t believe I couldn’t smell the co-dependency though,” you giggled but Sam shut you up with a swift kiss. “Mm, well now that you have seen some of my memories, what do you think?”

“I think you’re everything I could’ve possibly dreamt up and more.”

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the cheesy type,” you deadpanned.

“I’m just being honest.” Sam’s dimples broke through with a mirthful smile and already you knew they‘d become one of your favorite things in this world and beyond.

Biting your lip, you nodded, “OK, well in the spirit of honesty, I have to tell you that it was way more arousing to see you make those monster kills in that director’s cut in my head than to dream about it from your perspective.”

Sam’s smile turned into a smirk, “Yeah?”

You trailed your hands down his impressive torso, relishing every ridge and groove, mapping out the thick cords of his long neck, grazing the taut nipples beneath his cotton t-shirt, and lingering within the deep trenches of his V-line as you made your way down to the waistband of his jeans. Hooking your fingers into his belt loops, you tugged him toward you with a force that seemed to both surprise and excite him, if his quiet grunt and darkened pupils were any indication. “Fuck yeah,” you echoed before pushing your lips back against his.

Having waited much too long for this, you couldn’t hold back. Sam must’ve felt similarly because he pushed back just as hard, until you were forced to grip him tighter, digging your fingers into his muscled back just to hold on. His own fingers applied a similar pressure to your butt cheeks, squeezing them with a rough hunger that only spurred you on more.

But just as your tongues began to get acquainted – though it felt more like lovers reuniting after an unspeakably long and unbearable period of time – Sam somehow managed to retreat an inch from your hold, hissing through his teeth with crinkled brows and closed eyes. His chest heaved into yours a few times before he spoke, sounding about as regretful as you felt, “Wait… Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I’ve already ruined your life by being your soulmate. I can’t be good for you.”

“Sam, you do realize that our souls are literally bound together, right? And there’s nothing you could say or do that would make me stay away now that I’ve finally found you.”

“Y/N, I started the apocalypse!” Sam swore it took almost as much willpower to untangle himself from you as it had to overpower Lucifer in that godforsaken cemetery. He backed up in fear that your pull was stronger at closer distances, though he still couldn’t look at you, choosing an unfocused spot on the speckled floor to eye instead, as the shame and guilt began to cloud his mind.

“No, you thought you were saving the world!” you countered immediately, feeling the fiery mass of restrained ire you’d been carrying inside you for years blaze alight, as if with the click of a switch, “And then you did! By risking and sacrificing everything! Not to mention there were sixty-five other seals that had nothing to do with you!”

“Well how 'bout the fact that I was addicted to demon blood?” Sam’s voice grew louder. There was nothing like recounting his own sins to get him fired up. “I had a sexual relationship with a demon! Surely, you’re not OK with that?!”

With a scoff, you dismissed him, “You think people don’t have sex before they find their soulmates? I mean, yeah, it was a weird thing to dream about, but I’ve always felt what you felt, remember? So I know it started because you were desperate to save Dean and I know the weight of the grief you were feeling when you were with her. I know how you thought you were helping people by exorcising demons instead of killing their meatsuits. I know all of it. You can’t scare me off, Sam!”

While he was finding it surprisingly hard to dispute your claims, true to his Winchester genes, Sam was much too stubborn to give up. You were brilliant and beautiful and deserved so much more than anything he had to offer. “What about all the things I did when I was soulless?” he tried again.

But you had a retort on the ready for that one as well. “Sam, don’t you get it by now? That was out of your control. The same way you wouldn’t blame someone for all the things they do when they're possessed. Besides, as your soulmate, I’m not too concerned about your douchey behaviour when you were literally missing your soul.”

That seemed to shut him up, but the confliction swirling within his prismatic eyes told you he wasn’t convinced. “Look,” you sighed, “you always think you’ve got this darkness inside you, that you’re not ‘clean’… but you are.”

As you let that sink in, you smiled to yourself, “You know, you and Garth actually have that in common: you’re both good to the core. You’re clean, Sam. You’re the cleanest, purest soul I’ve ever known, but baby, you’re not normal.” Shaking your head apologetically, you resisted the temptation to kiss that disbelieving, forlorn look off his face. “I know you’ve always wanted to be but you’re anything but. I mean, you saved the fucking world, Sam! When the world has done nothing to deserve you. You suffered nearly two centuries of torture by the devil himself to save it, and not only did you never get any acclaim, but the whole thing has left you racked with wrongful blame and unreasonable guilt!? And I know you don’t think you do, but baby you have every goddamn right to be mad, to be furious.”

Your soulmate’s ridiculously puppy-like gaze almost had you leaping to wrap him up in your arms, but you willed yourself to continue, “But in the end, all the bullshit crap you took didn’t make you jaded; it didn’t make you violent or vengeful or bitter. No, you turned it into love, and strength, and empathy. You still care so deeply, still carry on saving everyone you can, still manage to find hope. Fuck, Sam, you’re the only reason I kept fighting. Cause I figured if you could do it, then I had no fucking excuses. You were always my light! There’s gotta be a reason we’re soulmates. I know you never felt the bond but I-”

Sam’s lips cut yours off with a forceful kiss, the first one he’d truly initiated and my god did it feel good. So good that you weren’t even embarrassed when you let out a soft whine as he pulled away tragically soon. At least his hands were still cupping your face.

“I did. I did feel the bond,” he declared, forehead resting on yours so you could feel the truth of his words through his breath on your skin, “I knew you were mine the moment I saw you, but I tried to push it down because I thought you were with Garth and every time I tried to reach out… you shot me down with that look.”

“What look?” Your fingers found their way to his thick and vascular forearms for it seemed unwise not to touch him whenever you were given the chance.

“You know, that get back stare.”

“A get back stare?” You pulled away slightly to shoot him a somewhat amused, questioning glance.

“Yeah, it was really hot but also very off-putting when you’re trying to get to know your soulmate.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you suppressed your laugh into a smile, “Well, it’s not my fault I’ve had to learn to defend myself and my misunderstood soulmate from nearly everyone in the world. And sometimes that means playing offence,” you admitted with a shrug.

Said soulmate’s giant hands glided down your arms to take hold of your significantly smaller hands, and his eyes, teeming with resolve and vivid remorse, were fixed on you as he said, “Well, I hope you know you don’t have to anymore now that you’ve got me.”

Sam was undeniably surprised and frankly a bit hurt when you snorted a chuckle in response, “Yeah, I highly doubt that. If anything, I might become more menacing.”

Though he didn’t pull away, you could tell by his expression that you’d bruised a somewhat masculine part of his ego. Sighing at his misinterpretation, you dropped one of his hands in favor of grasping the other with both of yours, fiddling with his gorgeous fingers as you began, “Hey, just because you’re all big and strong doesn’t mean you can’t also be a victim or ever need protection. You’ve been abused, Sam. And not just by the devil and every other monster. Sometimes the worst of it came from the people in your life, and I swear to god, there were times when I wanted to rip them to pieces!”

You looked down when you felt his free hand land on yours, its thumb running gentle circles along your skin that instantly calmed you and made you aware of how tight your grip had grown around his fingers. When you lifted your gaze again, Sam’s features were alight with awe, staring at you as if he were shocked that anyone could ever love him so much. It brought you back to how adorably sweet he’d been when you first met, not even twenty-four hours ago. That humble and innocent demeanor had led you to assume he couldn’t be your soulmate, the one who’d been through hell and back.

“I still don’t understand how you seem so… well-adjusted. I mean, after everything you’ve been through and never getting a chance to properly recover from or even address all the trauma.”

He raised your conjoined hands and kissed your knuckles while smiling softly at you. “It hasn’t been all that bad… you’re making me sound way more heroic than I really am.”

“Sam, your life was a prophecy from the very beginning, but you changed it. It was your destiny to destroy the world, but instead you saved it. Do you not realize how incredible that is?” Catching the glassy look in his beautiful eyes, you hurried to change the mood. This day would undoubtedly become one of the most important in your lives and you didn’t want to commemorate it with tears, so you released his hands and wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him as you lowered your voice to ask, “Or how sexy?”

Your soulmate closed his eyes and breathed you in, strong arms automatically pulling you closer, until his nose caressed your cheek, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?”

“Do you want me to recap the things I just said, or do you want a comprehensive list of it all? Because that might take a while and I really wanna kiss you again,” you moaned across his jaw.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam exhaled into your skin before your mouths met in a passionate exchange of love and acceptance. This time, it was completely mutual and felt like a dream come true in every sense of the saying. What’s more, kissing your soulmate felt like a big ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the world, it felt like celestial invincibility and dazzling euphoria. But most importantly, it felt like home, and you never wanted to leave.

Though he still found it hard to believe this was really happening, Sam knew he could never let you go now. He just didn’t have it in him. Kissing you felt like rapture, better than any high demon blood could grant him and infinitely more satisfying. There was a healing component as well, as if the simple touch of your lips could cleanse him of his wrongdoings and wipe away his self-contempt. All his life, he questioned what it was he’d fought so hard for, and this was it, right here in his arms.

Even within his boggled mind, one thought rang consistently clear: that you and this bond you shared must be cherished. So Sam kept the kisses slow, deep, and sensual as he backed you up into the wall, pressing a large hand against it to temper your blow. Wet and wanton slurping sounds filled the room, interspersed with muffled moans and shortened breaths. His soft lips and talented tongue wouldn’t release you until his lungs were begging for air, forcing him to pant into your mouth as he gazed down at you with unrestrained wonder.

You stared up at him with an equivalent expression as you caught your breath, that stunning, miniscule trace of a smile he’d first seen you giving Garth, now pointed at him and loaded with a whole other level of fondness.

Wordless communication must’ve been a part of your soulmate connection for the two of you seemed to know exactly how to move together, where to touch, and how to feel, like you’d been doing this since the beginning of time. Sam believed every nerve in his body sparked to life as you hooked a leg behind his knee and pulled him close, so close that each bulging curve of him pressed seamlessly into each gorgeous nook of you.

The loudest harmony of moans yet pierced the air and reverberated through him, and Sam knew right away that he would spend lifetimes chasing that sound. He felt himself respond in ways he never knew possible as your lips moved from his jaw to his collar bone, and your delicate little hands roamed eagerly across his shoulders and back.

“Mmm, it makes sense that you’re so big though,” you mused into his heated skin.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Sam couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice.

“How else would you fit all that bravery-“ you paused to plant a kiss on his upper chest and continued to work your way up his neck after every subsequent word, “compassion… strength… forgiveness… devotion… and love?” This time his lips met yours in a tender kiss. “Not to mention brains.”

Sam was dizzy with joy. He had never felt so loved, so understood, or so appreciated. “You know, I’m starting to think we were made for each other?” Your smile stretched so big against his own, he wanted to drown in this moment forever. “And you know you’re incredible too, right?” Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he chuckled at your suddenly bashful disposition, such a stark contrast to all those glares you’d sent him throughout the day. “Baby, you’re so strong. I mean, at least I almost always had Dean. You were alone practically all your life, thrust into this world you knew nothing about, with no one to teach you or guide you, and yet... Garth tells me you’re one hell of a hunter. And even if I hadn't seen those badass memories, just with the way you pulled that gun and holy water on me earlier, I’d be very inclined to believe him,” Sam joked.

It earned him a subtle roll of your beautiful eyes and a loving peck. “Well that’s not exactly true because I did kind of have someone to teach me… in my dreams. You might even say I learned from the best,” you whispered seductively whilst leaning up on your toes to run your nose across his cheekbone and your fingers through his hair.

Closing his eyes at the feeling of your gentle nails along his scalp, Sam released a content sigh as his hands found their way to your hips, squeezing lightly. “You know, you’re probably gonna get even more shit from all those people for actually being with me?”

“Screw all of them. They don’t understand that my soulmate isn’t just the boy with demon blood; he’s the man who saved the fucking world.” Your words were a low growl in his ear, and he just about jumped when he felt you rubbing up against his crotch to emphasize them.

“Oh fuck! Ungh, you really know how to talk me up, you know that?”

“We’ll see about that,” you answered with a wink.

And that was why when daylight rolled around, bringing with it a chipper Dean and the scent of bacon, both were greeted with the sight of Sam half seated on the table against the wall with you stood before him, chests nearly melded together and legs intermingled, both topless and groaning the other’s name.

“Oh, come on!”

The wafting aroma of breakfast had done nothing to alert you of Dean’s presence and you gave a little yelp at the abrupt outburst while Sam’s bulky arms hastily wrapped themselves more securely around your back, pressing you tighter to his chest in an attempt to hide yours. You huffed a laugh and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and Sam couldn’t help but smile at how right it felt to hold you in his arms, in spite of the awkward circumstances and pending conversation.

Before he could answer his brother, however, Garth walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peered up at the unfolding scene. “What’d I miss?”

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[enigmalynne]

The Men who Hunted Her - DeanxReader

Title – The Men Who Hunted Her Pairings – DeanxY/N, Sam and Y/N friendship Word Count – 5,453 Warnings – Violence, non-con, cursing, being drugged SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Kidnapping

“Who’s calling you at this hour?” Sam questioned, looking up from his laptop. Dean picked up his phone and looked at the caller ID. He saw the name across the screen and rolled his eyes.

“Fucking Y/N,” he growled savagely. Sam instantly frowned.

When Dean and Y/N got together, Sam was nervous. It was like watching fire and gasoline join and when it was good, they were quite the pair to watch. They were an unbeatable force on the hunt or in the bar, and the unbridled passion they had for each other was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

But when they fought, it was just as bad. The hoarse shouting, the uncontrollable fury, sometimes even the thrown punches. There were things said that was downright unforgivable to many but for them, it was just who they were. They were as furious as they were passionate.

The last fight between Dean and Y/N was a vicious one. The screaming went on for hours. It got to the point where they didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore. Sam didn’t know what they were fighting about anymore. And when Dean bluntly told her to get out, she left without saying a word. That was weeks ago. Sam and Y/N kept in touch behind Dean’s back, but Dean was miserable. He knew Dean regretted throwing Y/N out of the bunker, but his stubborn pride was in the way of asking her to come back.

The radio silence between Dean and Y/N had been hard on Sam, but at least Y/N was still speaking to him. Or was until four days ago. That’s when she went off the radar. If she was calling now and calling Dean, something was wrong. Before he could say so, Dean already had the phone to his ear.

“The fuck do you want?” he growled fiercely into the phone.

“Don’t hang up!” Y/N’s whispered voice begged as soon as he picked up the call. “Please, please, please don’t hang up!”

“Y/N?” Dean asked, evident anger vanishing instantly. Her hushed begging suddenly confused him.

“Please,” she sobbed uncontrollably. “I know you’re mad at me, but please don’t hang up. Please. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know who else to call. Please don’t hang up. Please.”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. Talk to me. What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Dean asked worriedly. Sam stood up and walked closer to his brother so he could hear the call. Something was most certainly wrong. “Baby, slow down, I can’t understand you.”

“… grabbed me from behind, I didn’t even see them…supposed to be hunting a ghoul…hit me in the head, knocked me unconscious,” Y/N got out between strangled sobs. Dean stood up and promptly went for his keys; Sam followed closely behind, grabbing his laptop along the way.

“Who has you? Who are they?” he demanded impatiently.

“I don’t know… I don’t… They keep drugging me…” Y/N said, trailing off.

“Baby, I need you to take a deep breath for me,” Dean said desperately. Y/N nodded despite Dean not being able to see her.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered fearfully, wearily leaning her head into the heel of her palm.

“Y/N, listen to me. Where are you?” Dean asked forcefully.

“I don’t know! I don’t know where I am!” she sobbed. “They had me in the trunk when they brought me here! I… I was able to… to fight… to hide… I knocked one of them out… I grabbed his cell phone, and I’m hiding, but they are looking for me… They…”

Y/N’s anxious voice was cut off when a loud banging was heard along with two or three male voices shouting furiously. Y/N covered her mouth to muffle the harsh sound of her breathing, making herself as small and as quiet as she could. She hugged the cell phone to her chest to hide the light as well. After a few minutes, the sound went away, and she pulled the phone back to her ear only to hear Dean shouting for her.

“De….” Y/N whispered. The profound relief Sam saw in Dean’s face when he heard Y/N’s whisper would be something he’d remember forever.

“How many are there?” Sam asked eagerly when Dean couldn’t speak.

“Five…. No, si…six. six of them,” Y/N whispered. Sam cursed under his breath.

“Well, that’s how they got her. No way she can take on six guys by herself. Y/N… Are you on a cell phone?” Sam asked while Dean gathered his raw emotions together.

“Ye… yeah. I stole it from one of them… I had to get to you… I had to get help…” Y/N said quietly. Sam nodded.

“Do you remember how to turn on the GPS?” Sam asked, flipping his laptop open.

“Ye…yeah,” she answered. Within minutes, Sam saw the blip show up on the screen.

“Perfect. We have it. Keep the phone with you, okay? We’re coming.”

“There you are!” an agitated voice bellowed behind her as she slipped out of the cracked window. Wide eyes looked back, and she dropped just as a gun went off above her head. Without wasting any time, Y/N took off running through the long grass and into the trees that surrounded what she now saw was a cabin inside the woods.

“Did you get her, Jackie?” a rough male voice frantically asked. A third male cursed as he saw her running in between trees.

“Bitch is in the woods. We got to stop her before someone finds her and she starts talking,” a younger male voice said. A sinister laugh echoed in the opening.

“Butch! Mikey! Marlo! Gear up! Looks like we’re going hunting…”

“Keep going straight, then at the third left, take it,” Sam said. His eyes kept bouncing between the map in his hands and the blip on the screen in front of him. They had been driving for roughly 45 minutes, and they were already out of Kansas and into Oklahoma. Dean was going 20 over the speed limit just to get to her as fast as possible.

“I never should have thrown her out,” he muttered fiercely under his breath, gently shaking his head. Sam dared an apprehensive glance up at his older brother, taking in the clenched jaw and the raw emotion he normally saw hidden from his eyes.

“You didn’t know this was going to happen, Dean,” Sam commented quietly. Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself,” Dean growled furiously.

“We’re gonna find her, and we’re gonna destroy the assholes who took her,” Sam said, his voice so dangerous Dean had to glance at him.

“Damn straight.”

Y/N ran as fast as her bare feet would let her go on the floor of the woods. She ignored the torn skin and puncture wounds she was getting from the sticks and stones stepped on along the way. She used her arms to help launch herself over a dead tree that had fallen and continued running. Having not eaten in over a week, she had no idea where the energy was coming from, but she knew she couldn’t stop.

If she stopped, she’d inevitably die.

She heard an apparent gunshot in the distance and paused her running to look around at her surroundings. Nothing looked familiar; it was all trees and underbrush. Y/N nervously looked at the phone and was relieved to see it still had service. She couldn’t be that far from modern civilization if the mobile phone had service.

The faint sounds of someone shouting met her ears. She darted a look behind her in fear then started looking for something she could use as a weapon. Spotting a length of wood, she followed it with her eyes to see it was embedded into the carcass of a dead animal. Moving carefully, she slid over to it and pulled the old arrow out of the decaying corpse. Thankfully, the flinty tip was still sharp. Breaking the used arrow in half, she tossed the worthless half aside.

Then she climbed up the closest tree and hid.

“Splitting up was a bad idea, Jackie,” the rough voice of Marlo grunted out. He held the double-barrel loosely in his hands and frowned as he walked by the trampled ferns, kicking at them as he went.

“Oh, shut up, Marlo. If you can’t take down one bitch, then there’s something wrong with you,” Jack said, using his pistol as an extension of his arm to lift up some low-hanging branches out of his way. Jack bristled at the direct insult.

“It ain’t that and you know it! This ain’t just some bitch!” Marlo growled. “This a hunter! An’ she ain’t all drugged up like you been keepin’ her!”

“Whatever, man, she’s just like the rest of them. Just a toy we can dispose of when we’re done with her,” Jack said gleefully, looking back at Marlo with a lewd grin. When Jack turned back around to face front, Y/N dropped down on his plump shoulders and brutally stabbed the arrow into his throat.

Marlo shouted frantically in surprise as he watched blood spurt from the ragged wound in Jack’s throat, the two tumbling to the ground. Y/N snatched up Jack’s pistol and raised it, but Marlo was faster, shooting off a round from his shotgun.

Buckshot scattered and Y/N cried out as some of it embedded itself into her battered body. As Marlo racked another shot ready, Y/N fired off two shots of her own. The hoarse cries from the burly man in front of her echoed off the trees. Somehow, he was still standing. Shoving Jack’s now dead body away from her, she got herself in a better position and with wide eyes on the wounded man, she fired again. She hit her mark as Marlo’s body dropped hard onto the wooded ground.

Panting hard, Y/N remained frozen, listening anxiously for any sounds of the other men who were after her. Hearing nothing, she slowly stood up, a sore arm covering her chest. Little red spots started to show up across her dirty white shirt from the buckshot that caught her. She hissed as she moved, looking down at herself to see at least six spots where there was now embedded metal in her skin.

“Dammit,” she muttered savagely.

Moving gingerly over to where Marlo lay, she pulled the shotgun toward her and patted down his shallow pockets for more ammo. She was able to find six more shells. With shaking hands, she slid them into the pocket of her now torn and stained jeans before turning away. Making her way back to where Jack lay, she dug around in his pockets next. Nothing.

Y/N took a moment to swallow back the abject despair threatening to overwhelm her. She was aching all over, desperately tired, hungry, so very thirsty, and four of her captors were still in the woods looking for her. She pulled the phone out of her back pocket. Still had four bars of service, still transmitting the information. Shoving it back into her pocket, she stood uneasily from her crouched position and heaved a sigh.

“Where are you, Dean?”

“We’re close. Turn into this park,” Sam said, pointing to a side road on the left. Dean took the turn at speed, leaving tread marks on the road behind them. The brothers looked around carefully at the drive, noting the hunting lodge motif that seemed to engulf the area.

“They took her to a hunting ground, where no one would be bothered by the sounds of gunfire,” Dean growled impatiently. Sam opened the glove box and started digging through their fake IDs until he found their Ranger ones as Dean proceeded up to the security stop. Handing Dean his, Sam took control of the worsening situation to cover for Dean’s uncontrolled rage.

“Evening, boys. Can I help you?” the security officer politely asked. Sam lifted his ID, nudging Dean to do the same.

“Yes, Sir, we’re looking for a group of men who may be staying on your property who may be hunting outside the limits set for the active season. Tell me, have you seen any groups of say five or six men come in and rent out a private cabin?” Sam asked. The officer frowned slightly, turning to pull a clipboard off the side of the wall of his hut.

“Well, Ranger, now that you mention it… We did have a group of six guys coming up here in the middle of the night about four or five days ago. Thought it was odd they came in so late. A couple of them were acting kind of nervous, constantly looking over their shoulder and whatnot,” the officer said. Sam nodded and glanced stealthily at Dean, undoubtedly noticing his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, those might be our guys. What cabin are they in? We’re going to pay them a surprise visit,” he asked. The officer flipped up the papers and read the paperwork in hand.

“Looks like they are staying at the Ravenwood Cabin. It’s the one that’s farthest back in the woods. Just follow the yellow trail all the way to the back, and then the black diamonds to get to the drive,” he said, promptly handing the boys a map. Sam took it and nodded.

“Thanks, Officer…” he started.

“Thoroughbred. Good luck in there, and be safe,” he said, punching a button to lift the gate. Dean forced himself to drive slowly through the gate but once he was out of sight of the security office, he picked up speed.

“Of course, they would pick the cabin farthest out,” Dean ground out through gritted teeth. Sam glanced at his laptop and saw the red dot had stopped moving. He compared it to where they were, then looked up and pointed eagerly.

“Keep going straight and keep your ears open.”

Y/N limped to a stop and leaned back against an overgrown tree, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the stolen cell phone. She was down to two bars of service. She prayed it was enough to send out a GPS signal to Sam. She stuffed the cell back into her pocket and looked down at her feet. They were torn up, bleeding heavily in some places. If those guys who took her had dogs, they would certainly be able to find her. She had to keep moving.

She desperately needed a break, though. Y/N was exhausted, and her last bit of energy was tapped. She could feel her battered body starting to shut down involuntarily. Y/N knew if she didn’t find a safe space to hide soon, she could be in real trouble.

Shoving away from the tree, she relentlessly pushed through the wooded area, desperately trying to find anything that looked familiar. Nothing but trees, brush, and branches surrounded her. She had walked for another fifteen minutes before she heard it. Freezing in place, she listened intently. Footsteps, and not in a cadence she recognized. With a terrified look behind her, she started to run frantically.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” she heard a maniacal voice shout. It only made her run faster and harder in the opposite direction. Glancing nervously behind her to see if she could spot the man chasing her, she stumbled awkwardly and as she tried to right herself – a strong hand lashed out and viciously grabbed her arm. She felt a sharp pain a second later in her neck.

“Gotcha,” a different male’s hateful voice said in her ear. Without rational thought, Y/N thrust the butt of the shotgun into the man’s face, shattering his nose. He cursed loudly, dropping her arm, and frantically grabbing his broken face with both hands. Y/N then spun on him and fired indiscriminately in his direction. She heard the man cry out as dark spots danced in front of her eyes. She fired again for good measure and heard a hoarse grunt before she turned uneasily and blindly started to stumble away, inadvertently dropping the shotgun in the process.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck FUCK she thought anxiously. Okay, we’ve dealt with this already. Take deep slow breaths. Slow your heart down. Control your movements. We can handle this. We beat the drugs once; we can beat them again.

Only this time, she wasn’t as positive.

“Wait, did you hear that?” Sam asked impatiently. Dean slowed the Impala down and listened intently through the open windows. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, he shut the engine down. The brothers listened intently to the world around them, hearing the wind blowing through the leaves and the odd cricket when suddenly

BANG! BANGBANG!

Dean’s furious eyes narrowed.

“They’re hunting something out in those woods,” Sam said, critical eyes on the tree line. He leaned back, vainly trying to see what was there.

���What are the chances it’s her?” Dean asked stonily. Sam turned to look back at the laptop, shrugging.

“It’s possible. She’s in the woods somewhere,” he responded. “Her signal is moving slowly, but I can’t pinpoint an exact location in the woods here.”

“Then we’re going in,” Dean said impatiently, opening his car door. Sam slapped his laptop shut and shoved it under his seat before following suit. When he got to the trunk of the car, Dean already had it open and a shotgun pulled out. He reached in and grabbed his own sawed-off, shoving shells into his pockets. Dean grabbed his pistol and shoved it into the back of his jeans along with a throwing knife. Sam grabbed his own pistol, then reached over to grab one of their empty backpacks and shoved a canteen and the first aid kit inside it. Dean looked at his brother with a raised brow.

“We don’t know what shape she is in. We should be prepared,” Sam explained gently. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he studied his brother, then he reached over and grabbed the other empty backpack and did the same. Dean added a blanket to his pack, while Sam added extra ammunition and a flare gun to his.

BANG! BANGBANG! BANG!

Gunshots rang out again, causing the brothers to look at the woods sharply. Dean slammed the trunk to the impala hard and racked the first shot in the shotgun.

“Let’s go, Sammy,” Dean snapped viciously as he led the way in.

Y/N blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision as she forced herself to move. She tripped and stumbled awkwardly into a nearby tree, scraping the skin off her arm in the process. A whimper escaped her as she forcefully pushed off the tree and forced her legs to keep moving. She had to keep going, she had to keep moving. She refused to die out here in the woods; she had to get back to Dean.

She wiped a hand across her neck and felt a small trickle of blood. She knew they injected her with whatever illegal drug they had been doping her with. She wiped her hand on her jeans, then reached behind her to grab the stolen pistol from the back of her pants. She didn’t know how many bullets she had left in it, but it made her feel comfortable having it in her hand.

She pressed on then, shoving away from the tree and moving slower than before as she made her way into the woods.

I can’t… I CAN’T…she thought miserably. A strangled sob got stuck in her parched throat as she stopped moving and leaned against a tree. Her breathing started growing ragged, almost like she couldn’t get enough air. She started yanking at her shirt, vainly trying to pull it away from her neck.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” she whispered brokenly to no one in particular. She pushed off the tree she leaned wearily against and attempted to walk again. She stumbled awkwardly with every few steps she took. The blurred vision and the dizziness told her the drugs were almost at full effect. It wouldn’t be long before she blacked out completely.

She felt an unknown hand grab her shirt to stop her, and with quick maneuvers made on instinct, she had it off her exhausted body in moments. With the remaining energy she had, she thrust her hand upward and felt the heel of her hand connect roughly with the nose of the person behind her. The sickening crunch and following yowl of pain was music to her ears. Y/N fought through the blurry vision and dizziness to grab the man’s head and forcibly bring it down sharply to her uplifted knee. She cried out herself at the violent contact, her entire leg aching terribly from the hit, but the man was unconscious and wouldn’t be bothering her anymore.

Four down. Two left.

Dean held up a hand with a closed fist when he heard the shrill cry of pain. He recognized that sound anywhere. He and Sam locked eyes, and Dean moved his fingers toward the direction he heard the sound coming from. Sam nodded and turned toward it. Slowly and silently, the two hunters crept forward until a gunshot had them running.

The following scream had Dean seeing red.

Fiery pain tore savagely through Y/N’s abdomen, ripping an agonized scream from her burning throat. She staggered her steps, colliding into a tree before collapsing into the brittle leaves on the dirt floor of the forest.

“Y/N!!!!” She heard someone shout frantically. Pulling on all the strength she had left, she yelled back.

“I’m here!!” her hoarse voice cried out. Y/N put both hands on her stomach and pressed, feeling lightning hot pain race through her, riding her veins down to her leg. She felt something warm and sticky there. When she lifted a hand to see what it was, she was mildly surprised to see something red on her fingertips.

She dropped her hand back to the bleeding wound, a hoarse groan ripped from her as complete exhaustion finally took hold. Her stinging, blurry eyes slowly drifted shut, tears making tracks through the dirt and blood on her face.

“She’s over here!” a gruff voice close to her shouted frantically. She listened carefully for the footsteps to come closer to her, but instead, she heard another gunshot. Shouting. Angry voices and crashing foliage. Flesh hitting flesh and another gunshot.

Y/N tried to hang on but felt herself start to drift. Between the drugs and now the gunshot wound, her desperate grip on reality was slipping fast. She felt her head fell back and her mouth open, which was helpful. It made breathing a little easier.

“Y/N. Y/N can you hear me? Y/N!!” she scarcely heard someone say, gently grabbing her face. She tried opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Her harsh breathing started to come in painful little gasps.

“I’m here,” she desperately tried to whisper. Everything sounded so distant, so far away from where she was right then.

“Dean!!” the voice shouted, fear lacing the word. Sam, then, she thought wearily. Her arms were getting heavier, numb even. Even the unbearable pain was going away. She hoped this was just the drugs making her feel this way. She didn’t want to die.

“You’re not gonna die, Y/N. Just hang on. DEAN!!” Sam shouted. That’s nice, she thought distractedly. She heard the distant rustling then the pain was back, sharp and engulfing her. She gasped, her eyes flying open to stare right into the brilliant green of Dean’s frantic ones as he relentessly pushed on her stomach wound.

“C’mon baby, you gotta stay awake for me,” Dean said, his voice filled with anguish and fear. Over his shoulder, Sam was on his phone. No doubt he was calling for help. Y/N’s eyes drooped.

“De…. Dru…gg…ed…” she got out through a pant, then grimaced as a violent wave of pain ran through her body, causing her to shiver violently. Dean’s eyes instantly started looking over her face and neck, before spotting the pinprick on her neck that was bleeding slightly.

“Drugged? They drugged you?” he asked frantically, but she was already out. “Babe? Y/N!? Y/N!!”

Dean started to panic, pushing two fingers into her neck to find your pulse. He found your pulse beating too slowly, but at least it was beating. He had no clue what kind of drug they gave her. Sam hung up the phone and turned back to his big brother.

“We need to get her to the road. They can’t land life flight in the woods,” he said, looking down at Y/N.

“They drugged her, Sammy. See if any of them have any drugs or syringes on them. I’ll start taking her to the car,” Dean demanded, moving to pick Y/N up bridal style so he could carry her. Sam nodded and started going through the pockets of the men around them.

Minutes later, Sam ran up to him with a syringe in his hand. Together they got Y/N to the car, then made it to the main road just as Rescue was pulling up.

The first thing she was aware of was the beeping of the heart rate monitor. The second was the heavy warmth around her hand. She could tell it had been there a while, that she had been there a while, simply by the ache in her joints and muscles. What she wouldn’t give to just stretch and instantly feel everything pop and move back into place like they were naturally supposed to be.

Instead, she tried opening her very heavy eyelids to see where exactly she was.

The hospital room she was in was dimly lit, just a lamp in the corner on the lowest setting. It looked dark outside the window, so it was either really late or really early. When her tired eyes caught the sleeping man in the chair next to her, a contented smile played on her face.

Dean looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were rumpled. He was sleeping soundly on his folded arms, one eager hand wrapped around hers in a very tight grip. Suddenly, whatever they were arguing about before seemed so unimportant. She couldn’t even remember what it was about. All she really wanted more than anything right then was to see his gorgeous eyes and his charming smile.

Gently squeezing the hand he had a secure grip on, she tried to call his name with no success. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so any sound came out sounding broken and crackly. Thankfully, the door to her private room opened then and Sam walked in with a cup of coffee. When he realized she was awake, he smiled fondly at her with wet eyes.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said quietly, walking over to the opposite side of the hospital bed that Dean was resting on. He leaned down and gently kissed her on the top of the head, knowingly causing her to close her eyes and grin at him. “Welcome back.”

Sam then walked around the hospital bed to where Dean was and set his coffee down on one of the tables in the room. He put his hands on each one of Dean’s shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“Dean… Hey, I need you to wake up for me,” Sam said soothingly, rubbing his arms to gently wake him up. The older Winchester still woke with a jolt and a slight groan. Y/N watched him, eagerly waiting for him to look up at her.

“Look who’s awake, Dean,” Sam said softly. Dean immediately looked up at Y/N and his eager face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her pretty eyes looking back at him. He carefully moved from the chair to the side of her bed and gently pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. Y/N pressed her hands to his face, needing to feel him, his skin on hers.

“Hey, baby,” Dean whispered tenderly. Y/N sniffled in response, carefully slipping her hands to his flannel shirt, and fisting it tightly. Sam had taken a step back, pouring some water into a cup with a straw for Y/N. He willingly handed it over to Dean who then took it and carefully held it out to Y/N. She took a few long sips of the water and attempted to clear her sore throat of the crude clogging it.

“Are they dead?” she asked, her pleasant voice sounding raw and painful. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, they’re all dead. You’re safe now,” Dean said, running his hand over her hair. “And I am so sorry…”

“No apologies,” Y/N mumbled, gently interrupting him. “You didn’t hang up the phone and got me away from them. That’s more than enough.” Dean shook his head, intentionally avoiding her eyes.

“If I never told you to leave, you would never have been in that position,” he said regretfully. Y/N couldn’t argue that one. Instead, she just took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

“Lesson one in learning how to fight correctly: don’t kick each other out of the bunker,” she whispered tenderly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. Dean simply shook his head, swallowing hard. Y/N carefully studied his face. “Hey,”

Dean looked up at her, taking in the cuts and bruises scattered across her face. The guilt in his heart weighed down heavily on him and she could see it in his eyes. She pulled his face back down to hers and eagerly pressed their lips together again.

“I don’t blame you, Winchester,” she whispered fiercely against his lips. “But if it makes you feel better, I forgive you.”

Sam watched from the far side of the hospital room as his big brother and Y/N took the time to thank whoever listens to them that she made it out of this horrible ordeal alive. The drugs that those men kept pumping her full of took three full days to get out of her system. Thankfully, there should be no lasting damage to her. The gunshot wound was superficial, but thanks to the drugs, bled a lot. She’ll have an ugly scar, but she’ll live to talk about it.

It was the rape kit they had to do on her that infuriated the brothers. The doctors inadvertently discovered the need for it when they were prepping her for surgery. It took everything Sam could do to control Dean and his relentless fury. He was on the receiving end of a few punches before he invariably got Dean in a hold that stopped the violent attacks.

“Listen to me. HEY! LISTEN to me!” Sam shouted furiously at his brother once Dean was pressed up against the wall with his arms pinned. “Stop. You’re going to get kicked out of the hospital if you keep this up. The guys who kidnapped her are to blame for this. Not you, not me, and not the medical staff, alright?”

Dean stormed out of the hospital with Sam and Y/N’s doctor watching with frowns on their faces.

“Is he going to be okay?” they asked Sam. He didn’t know how to answer that, so Sam just shrugged. He told the doctors to do what they had to do for Y/N and he’d sign whatever paperwork was needed. Sam ended up sitting with Y/N for almost two days before Dean made his way back. When he arrived, he looked like he hadn’t slept and reeked of smoke and gasoline.

“They won’t be able to hurt her again,” he said as he stared at Y/N from the foot of her bed. Sam simply shook his head and sent Dean to the hotel room he rented to get a hot shower and some sleep.

Sam knew this was going to be new nightmare material for both his brother and Y/N. Dean’s overwhelming guilt would be enough to inevitably create new scenarios in his head that wouldn’t be real. He’ll wake up screaming horribly in the middle of the night thinking he didn’t save Y/N in time. And since Y/N had the Winchester habit of not talking about things, she’d be reliving this in her dreams as well. All Sam could do is be prepared to help them as best he could from the sidelines and remind them how to avoid getting to this place again.

Which does, in fact, start with not kicking each other out of the bunker during a fight.

Supernatural:

@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers @deanwanddamons @LovelyRocker @mrsstevenbuchananstark

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#spnmixedbingo #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spnfandom #supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester Fanfic #dean winchester au #Dean au #Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x Y/N #winchester au #hurt!reader #reader insert

[winchest09]

Soft Spot

Title: Soft Spot

Pairing: Sam Winchester x  Reader

Word Count: 1868

Summary: [Request]  Can you give me an angsty Sam drabble? Enemies to Lovers? When you and the Winchesters are out on a case, it comes as no surprise that you and Sam clash over your theories of what you could be hunting. A clash that ends in something unexpected. Rating: 15+

Warnings: Angst, swearing, little bit heated, implied smut.

A/N: This is the fourth drabble requested from my Sunday Drabble Requests. I hope you guys like it! 

Squares Filled: ‘Rivals’ for @anyfandomangstbingo​ & ‘Enemies to lovers’ for @spnmixedbingo​

Thank you to my darling betas, wonderful cheerleaders and all round just kick ass women @deanwanddamons​ & @cockslut-padalecki​ for looking this over. Love you girls! <3

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The atmosphere in the motel room was tense as you paced back and forth, your hands in your hair. It was always like this when you met up with the Winchesters, and you told  yourself after each time that you weren’t going to do it again because you always come away with a headache and a high blood pressure. But you only had one of the brothers to blame for that, the youngest one. Sam.

“You’re wrong,” you stated, your annoyance shown through the tone of your voice as you turned to stare down the man sitting behind his laptop, his hands palm up on the table as he looked incredulously at you.

“How am I wrong?!”  he retorted, his brow furrowing slightly as he continued to gaze your way.

“Because it’s clearly not a werewolf!” You exclaimed, your arms flapping in frustration.

“And what makes you so sure that it’s a skinwalker?!” The way Sam was looking at you, like you had no idea what you were talking about, boiled your blood. You had been hunting for long enough to know when to trust your gut and yes, this case was still a mystery but you just knew it wasn’t something as simple as a werewolf.

“Because of that German Shepherd that our main person of interest owns,” you admitted, moving to grab your duffle bag from the floor and placing it onto one of the double beds with force. “He just stares at us constantly whenever we’re near. It’s unnatural.”

“So you’re basing your thesis on a curious dog?” The younger Winchester shot back, disbelief laced in his voice as a small smile pulled at his lips.

That look alone was enough to send you over the edge. Your frustrations and rage now beyond boiling point you snapped, slapping your hands against your thighs as you walked closer to him, shaking your head.

“And what do you have Sam, hm?” You pushed, folding your arms across your chest. “Who do you think could be the werewolf?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, moving uncomfortably in his seat, “maybe it could be Mrs Jennerson.”

“The middle aged woman with the poodle?!” You shot back, trying to hold in an irritated laugh. He was unbelievable, his theory a long shot just like yours, but you were the one that was being made to feel as though you had no idea what you were talking about.

“C’mon guys give it a rest, will you?” Dean huffed from the corner of the room, slamming the book together in his hands before he started to stride across the room. “You’re like an old married cou-”

“--Shut up, Dean!” You both shouted, effectively shutting up the older Winchester. The pair of you were staring down the green eyed negotiator as he rolled his eyes. You were seething, your hands and fingers shaking from the audacity of Sam.

The air in the motel room was thick,  and the silence that fell over the three of you became awkward. You turned your back on the brothers, your focus now on your duffle and began packing whatever supplies you needed for your hunt. You didn’t care what either of them said at this point, you just needed to get out of this space and away from the man who riled you up like no other soul was able to do.

“Alright well,” Dean announced, walking towards the door of the motel, “I ain’t staying around for this brewing love fest so I’m going to get a beer.” He pulled his keys from his pocket as you shot him a glare, but he just smiled and placed his palm on the handle. “Call me when you find something, yeah?”

“Dude--” Sam started, his eyes wide but his older brother interjected immediately.

“--and try not to kill each other,” he told you as he left, pointing between the two of you.

Brewing love fest, you scoffed in your mind, yeah right. Sure, the youngest Winchester was good looking, but were you attracted to him? That was debatable. Every time you looked his way you just wanted to grab his ridiculously soft hair and smash his head against his keyboard.

You let out a small huff and pulled in your bottom lip with your tongue before you gently bit down on it, attempting to calm yourself. You knew that you probably drove Dean mad, but in your defense, it was nearly always Sam that started off whatever argument you had. He would be the one to disagree with you, to find fault with your plan, to just be an annoying giant looming over your shoulder picking at every move you made.

“What are you doing?” His question hung in the air as you grabbed a hold of your gun, and checked the clip, ensuring there were silver bullets inside. Here we go. Here comes the lecture.

“Well I’m gearing up to go and hunt the skinwalker,” you stated matter of factly, forcefully slamming your ammo back into the chamber of your pistol.

“Y/N, you can’t just go and kill an innocent dog!” Sam fought back as you heard him stand up from his seat to walk over to you. As you looked over your shoulder, you saw him gesturing wildly.

“Who said I was going to shoot it?!” You exclaimed as you turned to face him, appalled at Sam for thinking that you were quite happy putting down animals. “But sitting around here is not solving this case, and you’re not doing anything about it, as always.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He barked and without hesitation, you retaliated, words flying out of your mouth.

“That it’s always the same whenever I work with you,” you fumed. “You sit and brood in front of your laptop, arguing every case point I have and make out like I have no idea what I’m doing when I’ve been hunting for nearly just as long as you.”

“Because you’re reckless, and impulsive,” Sam snapped and it caused you to spin back on your heel to grab your duffle. You didn’t need to take any of his shit.

“Well if I remember rightly, my reckless and impulsive self has saved your ass on more than one occasion!”

God, you were so angry, you could feel your rage pulsating out of you as you began to walk towards the door of the motel room, needing to get away from him.

“Yeah and you got your ass handed to you each time,” he answered back as he walked alongside you, his large hand resting on the solid wooden barrier to prevent you from leaving as he listed off your past injuries. “Dislocated shoulders, broken fingers, concussion.”

“You just love to point out my failures, don’t you?” You growled, slamming your bag to his feet with force, wanting him to know that you were incredibly pissed off as you stepped closer to him, your chest heaving. “God, you think you’re so fuckin’ special.”

“Failures?!” Sam scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head from side to side as he stared down at you, his palm leaving the door. “Do you not see that what you do actually puts you in danger? That you could actually lose your life doing it!?”

You were seething, the blood running through your veins almost like lava as you looked into his darkened eyes. How dare he lecture you like this after everything? How dare he shout at you and make you feel the way he is? You watched as his chest heaved, his expression falling stoic while you waited for a few moments. You were attempting to calm yourself down, trying anything you could to stop yourself from snapping and swinging for the giant who was blocking your exit. You would hate to mark such a handsome face.

“And what would you care if I did, huh?” You retaliated, your voice low but still resonating with the anger that you were feeling.  “You would be happy to have me out the way, I wouldn’t be getting under your feet all the time. Your life would be so much better, right?”

“Shut up!” The youngest Winchester snapped, his deep tones vibrating through you as his mouth drew a straight line. You just shook your head and you knew you had touched a nerve, so you continued to taunt.

“Can’t handle the tru--”

Your words were cut off by Sam’s lips on yours, his palms cupping your face as he maneuvered you, and pushed you up against the door. It took you a moment for your mind to catch up, for your thoughts to process what was happening, but your body was already reacting to his touch. You were already responding to his kisses, your hands winding in his long dark hair as you felt the weight of his chest upon yours.

“Just, shut up,” he whispered, his breath ragged against your mouth before he dipped down to seal your lips in another heated kiss.

This time, his hands roamed your body, his palms leaving your face to rest on your hips as he squeezed gently, his fingers applying a pleasurable pressure as he kept you pinned against the wood. You could feel your anger fading, the fury you harboured towards him now being channeled into this emotional and heated exchange. The small groans that were vibrating from his chest reverberated through you, causing you to whimper beneath him. The delicate but desperate touches he placed upon you, caused you to tremble under his fingertips. It all enabled the tiny whine that left your throat when he pulled away, his forehead touching yours as he looked into your eyes.  

“The only reason I’m on your ass all the time is because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as you watched his chest rise and fall.  “Believe it or not, I kind of have a soft spot for you.”

“Is that so?” You replied, a suggestive expression adorning your face as you tried to bite back your smile. All thoughts about the previous heated discussion had been lost. Your focus was now only on how good he was making you feel, on how he had only been a pain in your ass because he wanted to keep you safe. Because he had a soft spot for you.

“Do I need to offer a more detailed example to back up my reason?” Sam chuckled softly, his nose gently brushing yours before his lips began to trace the edge of your jaw, his tongue pursuing a path to your neck before he started to place delicate kisses upon your skin.

“I think I could do with a little more convincing,” you remarked, your heart pounding as you began to lose yourself in the man who still had you pinned against the door, his mouth making you feel things that no other man had done in your lifetime.

As he let out a low chuckle, you felt his palms slide down to your thighs before he swiftly and effortlessly lifted you into his arms, leaving you completely at his mercy. “Then at last, we finally agree on something.”

Forevers: 

@katehuntington​ / @waywardbeanie​ / @chocolateheart​ / @deanwanddamons​ / @whatareyousearchingfordean​ / @deandreamernp​ / @smol-and-grumpy​ / @talesmaniac89​ / @jensengirl83​ / @wonder-cole​ / @atc74​ / @flamencodiva​ / @superfanficnatural / @janicho88 / @suckmyapplejacks / @emoryhemsworth / @malfoysqueen14 / @anaelsbrunette / @teresa-67 / @deaan-main / @tatted-trina6 / @msmarvelouswinchester / @that-one-gay-girl/ @akshi8278 / @lyarr24 / @phantom-soilder / @daughterofthenight117 / @donnaintx / @hobby27 / @jesseswartzwelder / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @iwantthedean / @i-make-questionable-choices / @briagallen / @snffbeebee / @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel / @amandamdiehl / @couldabeenamermaid / @thefaithfulwriter / @stoneyggirl / @afangirlsbubble /  @spnbaby-67 / @lynne1993 / @tranquility-or-chaos / @markofdean79 / @miraclesoflove / @cpag7 / @cockslut-padalecki / @s-ravenall / @broiderie / @death-unbecomes-you / @igotmadskills / @deangirl93 / @sams-sass / @deanwinchesterswitch / @cutiecowgirl / @downanddirtydean/ @katelynw93 /  @treat-winchesterswith-kindness / @percywinchester27 / @allys-creative-bubble / @440mxs-wife / @nerdyfangirl67 / @deascheck / @shawnie74​

Sammy Senoritas’ 

 @calaofnoldor​ / @watermelonlipstick​ / @catching-up-with-kayla​ /

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam x you #sam winchester #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #anyfandomangstbingo #spnmixedbingo #sam winchester fiction #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fic #winchest09

[kickingitwithkirk]

La Princesse Vierge

Pairing: Pirate!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5296

Warnings:  pirate ship attack, cursing, show level violence, p/v sex, fingering, cunnilingus, a pinch of dub/con

Squares filled: @spnkinkbb -Hair Pulling @j3bingo - “Can I kiss you?” @spnaubingo -Pirate AU  @spnmixedbingo -Sam @winchesterandbeyondbingo -virgin @anyfandomgoesbingo -Bodyguard AU @howbadcanitbebingo -Magical Healing Cock @anyfandomdarkbingo -aquaphilia @witchsambingo -solitary witch

Winchester brothers art inspiration and here

A/N: Thank you to @justagirlinafandomworld and @b3autyfuldisast3r for helping pick bingo squares inspiring this story

A/N II: Once again, brevity is not in my vocabulary

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

The sound of men shouting and heavy thumping on the timbers started me from my slumber and by the time on the carriage clock, it was pre-dawn. 

I barely had the sash of my robe tied when the cabin door unlocked flying open and my guardian rushed in, still attired in his night clothes, hair askew, shouting something when the first cannonball slammed into the ship's hull making me stagger. 

Righting myself I pushed past him making for the main deck and finding it in chaos when I emerged from under the poop deck. 

The British officers rushed around me barking orders, crew climbing the rigging to secure lines on the yardarm that had been damaged so the sails didn't fully collapse as the ship shudders from the pounding it’s taking and our cannons returning fire.

I made my way onto the forecastle and froze seeing a dark, ominous, and easily twice the size of our ship flying a Jolly Roger seconds before it fires again.

The blast hitting near the waterline knocks me off my feet. 

I scurry to the closest railing wrapping my arms around one of the spindles can barely understand Captain Barrows shouting orders from the helm as he turns the wheel, maneuvering the ship so the sails can catch more wind and will allow us to outrun the significantly heavier ship.

The captain finished spinning the wheel only to realize he’d steered directly in line with another ship, equal to our attacker's size, bearing down fast upon us leaving him no choice but to call for the white flag of surrender to be raised. 

The air is thick with cannon smoke and tension as grappling hooks fly over the port side sinking into the wood and dragging us towards the first ship as the second comes along starboard pinning us between them. 

Planks are extended allowing the marauders to come aboard with guns and cutlasses drawn, rounding up the crew and disarming them. I was led to stand off to the side with my guardian and officers awaiting the pirate captain's arrival.

During the time we were waiting the raiders methodically unload everything of value from the ship's stores as their quartermaster takes inventory against the ship's manifest and paused speaking to a burly pirate, who’d been silently observing the going on when a handsome, sturdily built man made his way across the deck to them.

He’s taller up close, clad in a well-worn ensemble; cropped dark blonde hair under a wide-brimmed, woven straw hat, a jerkin over belted thigh length, open tunic showing smooth skin covered with a dusting of cinnamon freckles, made more prominent by the Caribbean sun, below the knee trousers, hose and and and tall leather boots.

Watching him converse with the burly one I felt envious of his full lips and long lashes when his verdant eyes drifted over to me causing several of the officers to attempt closing ranks to hide me only to find several guns pointed at them to stop. 

I definitely glared directly when the man’s wicked chartreuse eyes framed with long, thick lashes traversed my scandalously underclad body, blatantly staring at my breasts and smiling in an unsettling manner.

 “Looks like we’re gonna get some fun after all Benny.” 

That’s when my guardian pushed forward and said the stupidest things, “how dare you..you pirate pig! When the king hears about this..”

“Stop flapping that tongue or I’ll do it for ya,” Benny threatens in a bastardized French accent reaching for the knife hilt protruding from his boot when the other slaps the back of his hand against his chest and calmly remarks in his deep, gravelly voice, “relax Benny, let's hear what the man has to say before you collect another trophy.”

My guardian's eyes boggle when Captain Barrow spoke up. “Take whatever items you wish then allow us to proceed to our destination.”

The quartermaster points out something in the manifest to Benny made him grin, take it and drapes his arm over the other's shoulders.

“Deano, the rougir mariée is King George’s niece, Countess Y/L/N, heading for her nuptials to the prestigious Governor of Antigua and lookie..ol’ George sent a dowry.”

“Dean Winchester?” 

The Captain's eyes widened as there was a restless murmuring amongst the offices, many seem to lose their resolve realizing who had captured us.

“The one and only,” he smirked, canting his head to the right, “ya’ catch who we have the honor of being in the presence of Sammy?”

Captain Barrow follows his line of sight and standing a few feet away a man blocking the view with his tremendous height and breadth of shoulders is tapping long fingers on the hilt of a cutlass. He is clad in the same manner as this Dean except for a jacket and the open tunic reveals his golden-hued, moderately-haired, muscular torso. 

The subtle sea breeze stirs the ends of his longish, chestnut streaked with coppery tints hair, tied back under a tricorn hat is without a doubt the most incredibly striking man I’ve ever seen.

“It’s Sam,”  he emphasized in a deep, honey-whisked voice, ”and we mutually agreed not to get sidetracked again, we’re already late for our rendezvous.”

“Aww, don’t be like that little brother. Gordon will understand when he sees what the king's benevolence has sent our way.” Dean crooks a finger at me, “come here, wench.”

No man outside the King had ever dared speak to me in such an impertinent manner makes my spine stiffen and Dean’s eyes narrowed, not pleased with my defiance came over grabbed my wrist jerked me out of my indignant repose.

I soundly slapped him.

His eyes boggled for a brief moment then drew back his arm and I closed my eyes bracing for his physical assault. 

It never came.

I cracked one eye open and gasped; hovering scant inches from my nose was his fist enclosed in the much larger one of his younger brother.

“Do you realize the amount of trouble your impetuousness has brought upon us, big brother?” 

Dean twistes his hand lose and stepping within earshot lowered his voice, “you think the kings gonna get pissed over losing her? She’s obviously not of much value since he refused her her rightful title.” 

I blinked in surprise. 

Dean presents himself as a common pirate but even out here in the middle of nowhere has contacts within the court who supply information of the goings on of the Palace. 

Dean gestures to Benny for the ship's manifest, “look at her dowry, this ship's stores have more monetary value.” Sam took the book, its pages made his lips turn downward. 

“Old George’s marrying her off as a reward to some bureaucrat instead of brokering a new alliance by marriage with France or Spain, so his loss is our gain. We could make quite a bit of coin selling her to Zachariah.”

Benny interjected, “ya’ brothers right on ‘dis one cher. Zachariah be willing to pay handsomely for royal blood, even outta favor. Plus being a vierge makes her a more délicieux morsel to offer up.” 

Sam hands the manifest back to Benny as his uniquely colored eyes traverse over me and I feel a sensation of pleasure?

I found myself sitting on a water barrel on the deck of this ship, The Charger after Dean lost some strange game called rock, paper, scissors.

Over the horizon, I can barely make out the longboat, with what was left of Captain Barrow's crew (and my former guardian) rowing away while his ship sunk into the fathoms wondering if it would’ve been a kinder fate to have gone down with it.

Sensing someone I turn to see an innocent looking young man wave at me.  “Hi, I’m Jack, the Captain requests that you join him below deck please.”

The please surprised me, “and if I refuse?”

Jack's face turns serious, “you don’t want to know what happened to the last person who did that.”

~~~

Captain Winchester and his first mate, a short, older man named Crowley, are hunched over a map table barely gaze up at my arrival, continuing on with their discussion. I take the opportunity to look around at the spacious, well-organized, not cluttered with ill-gotten gains, cabin. 

There's an oak dining table seating six, a rolltop writing desk with several rolled documents lying neatly on it, and strangely, a bookcase running along the wall nearest me followed the progression of its various volumes, so absorbed I stumbled face-first upon an overly large bed realizing these are the Captain's personal quarters.

“I’ve never had a woman fall into my bed enraptured by my literature.”

Embarrassed by my oft-clumsiness making itself known, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, “well, it is truly impressive,” peering up to find myself staring straight at his..”cock?”

“Now I have had many a woman say that.”

I dropped my face back into the bed feeling a blush coursing from my toes to the top of my head when he burst out laughing, gripped my arm, and hauls me upright. I knew he was big and, though I am not as delicate a specimen as a lady is expected to be, he is massive this close.

“Let’s start over by properly introducing ourselves,“ he steps back, bowing elegantly, “Dr. Sameul Winchester, previously personal physician to the Governor of Montauk, currently captain of The Charger.”

My mouth dropped, “how does one go from such a prestigious profession to..”

His lips, how does a man have such pretty pink lips, quirk, “a scourge and scallywag of his majesty's providences? It started when my father was accused of treason.”

A vague memory of an overheard conversation tickles the back of my mind, “your father was Sir John Winchester, the shipbuilder?” 

“He was part of a consortium that found out several of the king's advisers were in cahoots with Spain during the War of Succession.”

I remember the turmoil that conflict caused for years as he poured an amber liquid into two goblets and hands me one.

 “I lodged a complaint through the governor about his innocents. Subsequently, I was arrested and found guilty of insurrection against the crown.”

“That is outrageous! If the King was made aware of such a miscarriage..”

“It was all done on the Lord Chancellor's orders,” Sam bitterly bit out sitting at the table's head, “spent the next two years at the oars.” I sat down in the chair next to him sickened, having heard rumors about the Lord Chancellor, knowing of what deceptions some would resort to for power.

“I was then auctioned off to a plantation owner and worked at the grindstone when the niece of the island's governor did me a favor. I spent the rest of my time as his personal physician before several of us orchestrated our liberation.” 

“We hid out for months on uninhabited islands Crowly knew from his time on a naval ship in these waters caught wind that Dean had escaped England, ironically on the first ship our father had constructed, The Impala.”

He stared into his cup, “it took another five months of dodging his majesty's navy before he found us and now,” he gestures with one large hand, ”I’m captain of the last ship our father built.”

He studied me with a clinical eye asking, “is what Dean said about your circumstances true?” 

I read in his handsome feature’s anything but the truth wouldn’t be tolerated and took a sip from the goblet to help steady my resolve wheezed from the strength of the spirits made him chuckle. 

Catching my breath I told him the abbreviated version.

~~~

King George I had an ongoing, private feud with one of his siblings, my father, for over two decades.

Upon my birth, the King refused me the title of a princess and instead granted countess as a slight to my father, rendering me almost valueless despite my prestigious lineage. 

Out of shame, my father sent me to live at Hatfield House, saying it was for my health and despite my family’s wealth, I grew up rather poor.  All household accounts were paid by my inheritance, adjusted for my lower rank, thus explaining my minuscule dowery. 

Five months ago, an envoy from London arrived announcing my marriage to the governor of one of his Majesty’s Caribbean provinces and after weeks of preparations my appointed guardian and I boarded Captain Barrow's ship bound for the Caribbean.

~~~

Captain Winchester, Sam, he insists I call him, gave me an unreadable expression before laying out some rules while aboard his ship; I had access to the main deck as long as I was accompanied by Jack, Crowley, or himself, otherwise confined to his quarters we’d both be sharing. 

I was scandalized, it wasn’t that I’d never shared a room before, I had with my governess, but to do so with a man I wasn’t wedded to, if anyone got wind of those arrangements, it’d malign me in society. 

Vehemently objecting I went a step too far in telling him when one overly large hand grabbed my loosely plaited hair and yanked me sideways I felt a strange but not unpleasant sensation traverse through me, a mixture of fear and pleasure.

He tightened his grip and said, “hate to break it to you princess, what you want doesn’t matter. My ship, my rules.” Keeping our eyes locked leans so close I could feel his rum-spiced breath caress my lips when a loud banging on the cabin door interrupts. 

He shouts what, listen to the message relayed, and, with a growl, releases me standing up unabashedly adjusting his engorged member before storming out, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.

When I’m able to feel my legs I shakily cross to the wash basin pouring some water into it and, in a very unladylike manner, dunk my face trying to compose myself but wasn’t helping, every fiber of my being hoped next time he manhandled me, he wouldn’t stop.

Captain Sam Winchester has proven to be a dichotomy and discombobulates me to no end!

Publicly he acts like a well-bred gentleman, even granting privacy when attending to my personal needs, then does a complete turnaround when his brother comes aboard, reverting to the crudeness associated with pirate ilk. 

During the evening meals, the rum flows freely and so does both brothers' lips, especially Dean's. I have had to resist the urge to punch his smug face, plastering on the polite smile I would fake at court when his conversation became pugnacious towards me. 

The last straw was when he indiscriminately pissed in a chamberpot and I fled, mortified, as both brothers laughed. 

At least Sam has shown discretion when it comes to his privy moments but proved true to his words with the other arrangements. The first night I’d made a pallet on the other side of the table, it was the furthest point with some semblance of privacy, instantly fell into an exhausted slumber. 

I was startled when he flung off my blanket and gripping my ankle dragged me across the floor screaming bloody murder when the cabins door burst open and his first mate charged in with pistol drawn.

Crowley assessed the situation and had the audacity to be amused at our tableau; Sam standing over me clad only in his breeches, my nightdress ripped, hanging off a shoulder with the hem bunched up around the top of my thighs barely covering my pudendum.

 “Might I suggest gagging her if she's going to protest your romantic overtures Moose, some of us need our beauty sleep.” 

“Fuck off Crowley!” 

“Oh, I intend to, dreaming about this,” and with a wicked grin, left and Sam returned his attention to me. “I told you we’d be sharing this room; that includes the bed. Get up and get into it now!”

With what decorum I could muster clutch my ripped bodice warily getting up, and edge around him ordered me to stop handed me the shirt he’d been wearing, “I don’t want you fussing with that torn rag all night.”

Turning so I had a semblance of privacy I gasped upon seeing his broad back littered with whipping scars move closer, lightly rubbing my fingers over them flinched and spun seizing my wrist. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been subjected to..I have never condoned such treatment of anyone, no matter what.”

Not saying a word he shoved me towards the bed and I obediently climbed in mentally bracing myself for what was to come when he climbs in the other side and lays down with his back to me.

 “Good night, princess.”

Sleep eluded me for a long time, my mind occupied by this man sleeping next to me, like none I have ever met, and cannot figure out what game he was playing.

Six days later 

I found myself sitting on the beach of some obscure island half-listening to the brothers' conference as Gordon, whom I had taken an instant dislike to, scrutinized me.

Pressing my lips tight together, I vehemently try but cannot suppress my chortle over the item sitting on a crate in front of me any longer.

“What the hell so funny women?” Gordon snaps. 

Lifting my chin from my hand peer over at the darker-complected man, my senses tingling, warning me something about him is all wrong.

“I was wondering,” getting up to dust the sand off Jack’s spare breeches Sam insisted I wear in case we needed to make a quick exit, “if they know what the translation of bолшебный исцелеющий петух is?” 

The Winchesters exchanged looks, “seriously? Neither of you speaks Russian?”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed, “keep quiet or I’ll remove your tongue.”

Little did he know such threats would not scare me, they were nothing compared to the Kings during one of his fits of displeasure.

“The literal translation is Magical Healing Cock.”

They wore matching bewildered expressions, “it’s used in magical practices to help channel sexual energies of the participants while they are,” I made the crude gesture learned from Dean indicating a certain sexual act.

“What the..magical sex..how can you..you’re a virgin!” Dean stumbled out before turning on Gordon, “you lying sonuvabitch, thought you could cheat us!”

Gordon moved quickly, wrapping an arm around my neck placed his pistol against my temple, using me as a shield.

“Since we can’t come to terms, I’ll take the virgin as compensation, she’ll bring me quite a bit of coin at Le marché des esclave AHHHH!” 

Gordon's scream echoed across the beach when I sliced his arm with the engraved silver blade I was given years ago. the whites of his eyes disappear revealing what he was before the beach erupted into pandemonium. 

The Winchester's men engaged Gordon's crew in a bloody battle as I struggled to escape his hold saw the brothers simultaneously fire their pistols and felt one iron ball pass my cheek embedding into that bastard's face as the other enters his chest, his dead weight dragging us down.

But instead of dying, Gordon pinned me under him, wrapping both hands around my throat heard Dean begin reciting, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te..” 

Gordon looked up and flicked a hand sending Dean hurtling towards the treeline and Sam continued, “cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare, Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis..Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine..”

His voice choked off from the invisible force constructing his throat I managed to wheeze out, “quem inferi tremunt..Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

Gordon's head snapped back, his mouth exuding thick, black, sulfuric smoke plumes outward before penetrating the sand, the heat solidifying it into a jagged ring of black glass. The demons infesting his crew also smoked out to save themselves.

Benny checks Dean's bleeding head and helps him up, slapping his shoulder. Sam inspected my person, finding me uninjured except for finger-shaped bruises on my neck.

“Is this where the rogue pirate asks the princess can I kiss you?”

The surprise flickering across his face at my flippancy made Dean laugh, “alright princess, where the hell did you get that blade and learn to exorcize a demon?”

“My governess was from these islands. She passed her knowledge of the supernatural, and the blade, on to me.”

“Looks like the vierge is worth a lot more than I assumed,” Benny grudgingly remarked.

We spent the rest of the day split into groups:  I helped Sam attend to the injured, Dean led a group to search Gordon’s ship for anything worth salvaging while the rest gathered the bodies, rowing them out to deposit onboard setting it alight before sailing away.

In the pre-dawn light, the ships anchored in a deep water cove of another remote island to lay low for a few days, a chance to rest and recover plus replenish the water casks and some perishables. By late afternoon the necessities were squared away.

A tired-looking Sam had me gather bath sheets and a change of clothing while he grabbed some bread, cheese, and a small, tied bag, placing everything in a burlap sack then we boarded one of the longboats headed for shore.

He led us along a hidden path inland and noticed my fascination with the sight and sounds and began telling me the names of brightly colored birds, strange animals scurrying into the bush, and exotically scented flowers. 

My babbling with delight at finding fresh fruit and mint amuses him, gathering the fruit that’s out of my reach, and starts describing the variety of drinks and dishes they are used in to ward off scurvy..once a doctor.

I picked some of the mint leaves, added a few to the canteen, and began chewing on a couple when I heard running water follow the sound enter a secluded area with a small waterfall feeding a clear pool.

“I found this years ago, the waters are safe and no nasty critters to contend with,” Sam informed me, sitting the sack down on one of the flattened, water-smoothed rocks surrounding the pool digging out the small bag handed me one of the soap cakes.

The one thing I hated the most after leaving England was the inability to cleanse properly, especially my hair, for weeks, only allowed a cursory wipe down daily from the one water cask I was allotted. 

“We won’t be disturbed so take as long as you like. I’ll be on the other side,” he pointed to a grouping of bushes, “and able to hear you.”

Spending the night covered in sand, ash, and blood I wanted to tear my clothes off and dive in instead hesitantly asking, “are you still planning on selling me to this Alistair?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Keeping me would be advantageous for you.”

Sam leaned against a Bannon tree crossing his arms, “explain to me how keeping you would be advantageous?”

“One-thanks to the King, no one will miss me enough to cause trouble. Two-thanks to my governess, I’m knowledgeable about artifacts and other things that are not Christian, thus exposing Gordon's attempted deception. Three-thanks to my tutors, I speak six languages, well seven, if you include Latin, which saved your collective arses from those demons.  Four-thanks to my intended marriage and what you liberated from Captain Barrow's ship surpasses any monetary value you would make selling me.”

I had learned when Sam partially opened his mouth and rolled his tongue he was considering whatever was presented and decided to up the ante.

 “And five-you. You find me attractive, and would it not be far safer having me in your bed than those doxies of Tortuga to tup?” 

Sam frowned, “what do you know about doxies and tupping?” 

“Did your father never take you to court?” 

“No.”

“The King's court is riddled with some of the best whores in the world. Many were sent to France to train as courtesans and are encouraged to implement their charms to curry favors or seal deals. Several of the queens ladies-in-waiting educated me about copulation while avoiding the maladie française and pregnancy.” 

Sam’s throat rapidly bobbles at that tidbit.

Slowly moving towards him asked, “did you know that royalty isn’t permitted to bathe by themselves? It was always someone’s responsibility to ensure their personage is disease free.” I stop a handbreadth distance and fixate upon his chameleon eyes, “as the only person qualified, it falls upon you to continue monitoring my health.”

He moved so fast. Suddenly I was pinned between his well-muscled chest and the tree, his long fingers roughly tangled in my hair creating an exquisite pain jolting my core.

“Are you only offering to evade being sold off?”

“Maybe.”

  “If I were to keep you, you would be completely under our command.”

 “Please, what do you mean by our?”

“My brother and I equally share everything, this includes women.” I shuddered at the thought of being with his brother, “would you also share me with your crews?”

“No, Dean and I are possessive of our dames entretenues. Do you understand what that entails, princess?

“I would appreciate explicit clarification.”

“Explicitly,” Sam pulled my head to the side leans so close I can feel his lips against my skin as he spoke, “you will be warming one, or both, of our sheets every day,” he continues, “participating in whatever sexual gratification we desire.” I mewl when he bites down hard enough to leave a mark on the juncture of my shoulder, “unless it is time for your flow. Is that clarification enough?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Yes Sir,” he corrects.

“Yes Sir.”

Sam released me, “take off all of your togs.” 

Unabashedly he removed his shirt, “you pointed out it is my responsibility to keep you in good health so I need to examine your physique before engaging in relations charnelles.”

I had little to fear sleeping next to him the last few days but now at the prospect of what is going to happen, I felt trepidation while sliding off my trousers when Sam’s bare feet and calves appeared in view and he lifts my arms, gripped the hem of the shirt and pulls it over my head casting it off. 

Sam wasn’t the first man I saw in the altogether but still felt myself blushing fiercely at both of us taking inventory of everything on display, reminded of the old adage of proportions and a man's appendage undeniably true for him.  

Taking my hands he walks backwards into the warm water till I’m waist-deep then undoes the tie holding back my hair says, “take a deep breath and submerge yourself.” 

I resurface momentarily panicking at Sam’s overly large hands on my head, feeling his fingers lathered in soap cake, massaging my scalp, strangely soothing and exciting, like when he pulls my hair. 

After rinsing he handed me the soap cake, wetting himself then moving back knelt down on his knees in shallower waters.

I had washed my dogs when they came in muddy from the fields but never another person rubbed the cake between my hands then tentatively ran them through his locks, silkier than I’d imagined a man’s hair would be. 

When my short nails scratched his scalp, his muscles twitched and I trailed my fingers over their contours, tracing the scars decorating his skin and felt his breath brush my cheek moving towards my lips I dropped my hands, confusing him.

“I did not verbally agree to those terms,” maneuver back into the water call out, “I have some stipulations of my own,” and swam to the falls. 

I heard him curse and look back, unable to find Sam when he emerged from underwater lifting me onto one of the flattened rocks stood between my spread legs annoyed.

“What makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate terms?” A gentleman would endure only so much, and I had pushed my luck and his patience.

“I only have one. I do not wish to be shared with your brother.” Sam’s mouth downturned,  “something happened to him, it caused an unsettlement..it scares me,” suddenly I am very aware of how naked, not only physically, I had made myself.

I leaned back when Sam placed his hands on either side of me and brought him a bit too close, “what do you know about that?” 

“My governess figured out that I knew things about people just by being in their proximity. It’s why she taught me about the otherworld, said I had been born cursed and if they learned of it, they would come for me someday.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped and his expression saddened, skipping the worst details of what happened to Dean when he was under the tower, the darkest place to be imprisoned, run by a true connoisseur of medieval torturers, Alastair. 

I reached up cupping his cheek putting his focus back on me and tentatively brushing my lips against his he reciprocated, gently caressing mine when I felt his tongue and surprised open up, he inserts it, tangling with mine, showing what a real kiss can be.

His lips following his hands trailing over my bare skin makes me shiver and release a nervous giggle, I feel him smile against my neck, nipping the delicate, bruised skin and I tip my head back as he continues exploring.

At some point I find myself lying back on the rock, eyes closed, an absolute mess while he licks the water off my skin only to have his hair rewet the area and starts over again.

His long fingers brush a sensitive place inside, has me on the edge of needing something I cannot name, and every time I try descending into it, Sam stops and returns to teasing my nipples, suckling gently and twisting between his fingers. 

Jesu, how can a man have both; hands so violent and tender, lips harsh and caressing, at the same time feel a deep aching rising again, can almost taste it then, once again, halts touching me smugly asks, “still want to renegotiate the terms?” 

“Fuck you!” I yawp in frustration.

Sam’s expression changed to irate and bracing myself for the worst he leaned in..amused? 

I could only blink owlishly as he scans my prone form, lewdly splayed before him, chameleon eyes settle upon my pudenda licking his lips trailing fingers downwards over my heated skin inserting three into me, rubbing over that place dipping his head his talented tongue sends me over the plateau, and, without warning, lifts me up off the rock.

I find myself filled with his substantial membrum virile, waters churned up around us, not from the falls but his vigorous thrusting, now appreciating my thorough préparation for Riding St. George felt his muscles tauten, buried his face in the crook of my neck groaning out his release. 

My vaguely functioning mind is amazed after such a strenuous physical excursion he is still holding me in his arms, walks us to the shore, and sits with me clinging like one of the strange creatures explorers write about felt him silently chuckle. 

“Seems I missed learning a lot about ladies by never attending court,” I peer at him puzzled.

 “Dean will be pissed, he was looking forward to using this,” his fingertips trace the outline of my mouth, “for more than your verbal vitriol. Now I’ll have to sweeten the pot so he will forget about you with that very special pistol he’s been wanting.” 

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“I agree to your counteroffer, princess” 

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl  @siospins2

#sam winchester x reader #pirate!samwinchester #sam winchester #dean winchester #pirates #au sam winchester #au dean winchester #spn au #supernatural #spn

[avanatural]

You Deserve The World

Summary: Dean Winchester has gone up against monsters, humans, and even the Devil himself. But there is one enemy that he can’t defeat – time. As he notices that his age is starting to take a toll on his body, Dean wonders if his girlfriend will stay by his side.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, fluff, implied smut, comfort 

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Self-doubt, body image concerns, sexual content, jealousy, age gap, swearing

Square filled: Jealousy @spnmixedbingo​

A/N: We tend to be our own worst critics. This is a quick reminder that you are worthy, beautiful and downright awesome! ❤ 

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean stepped across the bathroom floor, several drops of water dripping onto the white tiles. He used his hand to wipe away the fog on the mirror above the sink, his stern face slowly coming into view.

The hunter watched himself closely. His facial features were still the same - green eyes, freckled nose and cheeks, plump lips. But as the time passed, age was starting to take its toll on him. New lines had shown up on his face, and the lingering bags beneath his eyes were taunting him.

Dean forced a smile, instantly put off by the deep wrinkles that appeared around his eyes. He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. Now it appeared dark, but he knew that as soon as it was dry, the gray hairs he had found recently would pop back up to mock him.

Aging was something he couldn't get used to. Not only did he need to work out harder because there was a higher risk of getting rusty, his charm wasn’t as successful on hunts as it used to be. 

Not to mention he was concerned about keeping up with his girlfriend.

Y/N. His beautiful girlfriend. Seeing the way his face and body were changing, he couldn't help but worry that she might end up not wanting him anymore. That she might want someone younger than him.

Dean knew that she had other options, better options. Having to watch his back around those better options was exhausting.

Every time a younger guy eyeballed Y/N, Dean wanted to take the rival apart, but he wanted to push his girl into the rival’s arms all the same. 

Of course, there was more to his and Y/N’s bond than physical attraction. They deeply cared for one another and she always tried to convince him that he was enough the way he was.

But maybe he was turning into an older guy who selfishly kept a younger woman by his side. And maybe she was simply too kind to leave him.

With a sigh, Dean banned those pestering thoughts from his mind, dried his body and went back to his and Y/N’s bedroom in just a pair of boxers. He walked over to his dresser and opened it, looking for a t-shirt.

Dean knew that all it took was a look to the left, and he would see himself in the large mirror that Y/N had placed in the corner of their room.

Against his better judgment, he indeed looked to the left. As soon as his body came into view, his negative thoughts came flooding back. He stepped in front of the mirror and let his green orbs rake over his body.

His thighs weren't as firm as they used to be. His pecs weren't as defined. Dean touched the skin of his belly, a deep scowl taking over his face. Y/N was perfect to him, and he wanted to be perfect to her, too.

As if on cue, Y/N came walking into their room, wearing that smile on her face that kept him going every single day. She tilted her head as he stood there in front of the mirror in his boxers, hands on his stomach.

"Checking yourself out?", she chuckled softly and grabbed a book from the nightstand.

Dean kept his eyes on his reflection, his freckled nose wrinkling slightly.  

When he didn't reply with some witty remark or innuendo like Y/N was expecting, she took notice of her boyfriend's frown and slumped shoulders.

She had noticed a change in Dean recently. One glance at the look of disapproval on his face, and she managed to put the pieces together. More workouts, fewer showers together, sex in the dark. Dean was self-conscious about his apperance.

Y/N frowned and dropped the book back onto the nightstand. "Dean, are you okay?" She walked over to him, reaching out and placing a tender hand on his bicep. Damn, she thought to herself. He had strong arms that could turn a woman’s brain into mush. 

Dean sighed. He had brushed her off for the past few weeks whenever she'd asked if he was alright. But he didn't have the strength to push her away any longer. Y/N was that person he could always talk to, who always listened and helped, no matter what.

"Do you- Do you think I'm... old?", he asked slowly, his gaze not daring to leave his reflection.

Y/N felt her chest tighten. To her, he was perfect in every way - his personality, his skills, his wit, his appearance, even his quirks, and most of all, his heart.

She stayed next to Dean, turning her head to try to get him to look at her. "No, I don't," she replied honestly, "You've been thinking this way for a while now, haven't you?"

Dean’s shoulders twitched as he finally tore his eyes away from his reflection. Reluctantly, he turned away from the mirror to fully face his girlfriend. She reached out to lovingly run a hand over his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"What brought this on?", Y/N inquired, her voice gentle. She let go of his cheek, grazing his skin with soft fingertips as she did.

Dean opened his eyes again, lines appearing on his forehead as he pushed his eyebrows together. "I see the way other men look at you, Y/N. Younger men.”

Her gaze jumped back and forth between his stunning green eyes, realization hitting her. “Is this about that guy from the grocery store?”

A few weeks earlier, a man had asked Y/N out while she’d been shopping for groceries with Dean. Admittedly, the man had been attractive, but he had nothing on her boyfriend.

The man had asked her out for coffee. When she’d declined and introduced Dean as her partner, the guy had jokingly asked her why she wasn’t looking for someone her own age.

“He wasn’t serious,” Y/N insisted. If she’d known that the stranger’s comment had hurt Dean’s feelings, she would have kicked the guy’s ass.

“I'm eight years older than you,” Dean mumbled, keeping his voice down, “One day, you might wanna agree to a date with a younger guy.”

"You believe there's someone better out there? Better for me than you?", she questioned, her hand finding his. She intertwined her fingers with his and gave him a squeeze.

Dean scowled. “Don’t you think so?”

"What could another man possibly give me? I'm damn lucky to have you. You always have my back, Dean.”

"Of course, I do. And you always have mine. I just don't see why,” he shrugged, “There are plenty of other guys out there-“

"Okay, that’s enough, look into the mirror," Y/N demanded, grabbing his broad shoulders and turning him around so he could see himself. "Let's start with these," she announced and gave his shoulders a squeeze, "I adore your shoulders. They're massive and I love gripping them."

Her words actually brought the tiniest smile onto Dean's face. He recalled how she always grabbed his shoulders when they were hugging, kissing or making love.

Y/N moved to stand next to Dean and affectionately ran her fingers down his arm. She held his gaze in the mirror and took his hand once she reached it. "Your arms and hands are so strong. I love it when you hold me. Touch me. You know I admire how handy you are. Especially with cars."

Dean hummed this time, lacing his fingers with hers.

Y/N smiled at his reflection. "I also love your stomach, you know that?", she asked, leaning in to rest her cheek against his arm, "You're body is muscled and solid in all the right places, which comes in handy while hunting, but your stomach has that wonderful softness to it. Do you know how sexy that is?"

"You really like that?", Dean asked in disbelief, meeting her gaze in their reflection.        

Y/N nodded and pressed a kiss to his upper arm. "I do." She could sense that some of the tension was starting to leave his body. "You wanna know more?"

"Yeah,” Dean replied instantly. His free hand balled into a fist at his side. He didn’t want to appear greedy, like he was fishing for compliments. But it simply felt too good.

"Your legs have that slight bow to them. It gives you that casual swagger in your step when you walk. And this?" Y/N let go of his hand to playfully pinch his butt, causing Dean to release a genuine chuckle, "This is perfectly perky and firm. A lot firmer than mine."

Her boyfriend opened his mouth to comment on her butt, but Y/N started playing with the hem of his shorts near his crotch, effectively keeping him quiet. "I guess last night is a good reference to what I think about this?”

A full-blown smirk stretched across Dean’s face. It filled him with pride to hear that he managed to keep his girl satisfied in the bedroom.

"And don't even get me started about your face.” Y/N shifted, cupping his scruffy cheek to make him look at her. She scanned his face, appreciating his breathtaking features. "Your eyes are beautiful. Sometimes I forget what I want to say just because of the way you look at me.”

Dean purposely leaned a little closer, staring deeply into her eyes. She recognized that mischievous expression of his.

Y/N blushed slightly and rolled her eyes. “Don’t do that to me now.”

He laughed sincerely, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.

“Your lips are so pink and full, damn tempting if you ask me,” she went on, “You have perfect teeth and I'm jealous of your long eyelashes. And this...," she took a moment to run her thumbs along his growing stubble, "Is fucking driving me crazy."

"Oh, really?", Dean asked, his signature smirk returning to his face, "I guess I better keep it, then."

Y/N grinned in approval and let go of his cheeks. "I’m damn lucky to have such a fine man by my side. You say men notice me, but don't you see the way women ogle you wherever you go? Makes me proud and worried at the same time,” she confessed.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You got nothin’ to worry about, Sweetheart."

"Well, neither do you, you got that now?"

He sighed, a small, content smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, ma'am."

Dean leaned down and pressed his mouth against Y/N’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, causing a quiet hum to escape her. He wrapped his bulky arms around her middle to pull her close.

Her hands flew up to his neck, fumbling with the short hair on the back of it. "I love your hair, too," Y/N told him after pulling back.

Dean wasn't willing to let her go yet, so he kept his arms around her, keeping their bodies pressed together. Their foreheads brushed against each other as they talked quietly, their breaths mingling.

"I have a few gray hairs," Dean opposed, his large hands sneaking down toward her butt.

"So what? You're gonna look gorgeous with gray hair."

"Are you saying you wanna grow old with me?", he asked, gripping her ass mischievously.

She grinned up at him through her lashes. "Yeah. If we get to grow old, that is."

Dean sighed. "Fair enough. I believe you were talking about my hair..."

Y/N took the opportunity to comb her hand through his wet, soft hair. "I love your hairstyle. Especially when you let it grow out a little. It's still short, but long enough to play with it."

"You love playing with it, don't you?", he questioned, his voice deepening. By now, his big hands were resting comfortably on her behind. Dean loved touching her butt, even when it wasn't sexual. It was simply intimate, and with Y/N, he craved intimacy more than ever before.

"Absolutely," she responded, eliminating what little distance there was between them and rejoining their lips.

Dean noticed the change in atmosphere and squeezed her butt cheeks again, using his grip on them to grind their crotches against each other.

Y/N mewled into his mouth when she felt his hardness press against her. But she wasn’t finished yet. She put her hands on his broad chest, stopping him. Dean got the message and pulled back.

"You okay?", he asked her, his eyes having darkened with lust.

Y/N’s fingers found the tattoo on his chest. "There's something else I'd like to say."

"What's that?", he breathed.

"Your body isn't the only thing about you that drives me crazy," she told him.

Dean felt a sudden surge of anticipation. He knew it worried Y/N that he didn't think very highly of himself. But the older Winchester just couldn't help it.

He made wrong decisions on a constant basis and people that he cared about had wound up paying for it. Dean viewed himself as a destroyer. Poison.

But occasionally, Y/N managed to pull him back to reality. A reality where he was human and made mistakes like everyone else. Where he deserved to be loved simply for who he was. Where he deserved to be cared for just as much as he cared for those around him.

Those moments of reassurance saved Dean from the abyss that was his self-hate. Just hearing what Y/N thought about him, how highly she genuinely thought of him, it kept him going.

"You're so good to me, Dean," Y/N said with a tone in her voice that indicated she couldn’t believe her luck, "You think that idiot from the grocery store could make me happy? He walked past the old lady who couldn’t reach the top shelf and hit on another woman right after I told him no. You missed how he dropped me like a hot potato because you were busy grabbing all kinds of groceries for the old lady. You have such a kind heart.”

Dean squinted, remembering that the old woman had been overjoyed to receive some help from him.

“Nobody has ever been as caring with me as you are,” Y/N continued, wrapping her arms around his neck, “And I see it with other people, too. The way you care about Sam, about your friends. You make everyone around you smile. You deserve the world, Dean.”

Ever since Dean had gotten to know Y/N, he knew that she was a terrible liar. She had those bright, honest eyes that couldn't fool anyone. And right now, looking into those Y/E/C orbs, he knew she meant every single word.

Not knowing what to say, Dean did the only thing he could think of. The best way he knew how to express his emotions - physically. Pulling his girlfriend into another kiss, he grabbed her thighs and scooped her up into his arms.

A tiny squeal tried to escape her occupied lips, swallowed by Dean. He effortlessly carried her over to their shared bed, letting himself drop onto it, pulling Y/N with him.

Smiling widely, she landed on top of him. She took his handsome face between her palms and claimed his mouth with hers once again. 

Sliding her tongue across Dean’s bottom lip, she attempted to deepen their kiss. He opened his mouth to her, his own tongue meeting hers. A second later, he rolled them over, hovering over her body. 

Soon she was clawing at his boxers, trying to push them off. Laughing, he helped her and kicked them off, leaving him bare.

"That's not fair, now, is it?", Dean asked, his voice thick with desire, before lifting her top and pulling it over her head.

Y/N’s pants and underwear followed, giving their hungry gazes a chance to roam each other entirely. Unlike recently, Dean didn't shy away. He didn't feel uncomfortable with his body.

Still, it was a habit to turn off the lamp on his nightstand. His hand reached out, his extended finger ready to push the button that would cover their room in darkness. Over the past few weeks, that darkness had meant safety to him - safety from being exposed, from being judged.

But Dean knew he didn't need to hide anymore and stopped himself. Y/N loved him, all of him. There was no getting luckier than that.

"Let's leave it on," he declared and didn't miss the way Y/N's eyes lit up.

"Yes, please."

Tag list: @eevvvaa​ @waynes-multiverse​ @myloversgone​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @woodworthti666​ @flamencodiva​ @alagalaska​ @deanwanddamons​

#spnmixedbingo #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #fluffy dean #dean angst #reader insert #spn imagines #supernatural imagine

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

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[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

No Place Like You

Pics found on Pinterest | Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Summary: The start of a new life, brings people that help you to make this start all better, and even some are there to brighten your days at the darkest moments Pairing: Misha Collins x Reader Squares filled: Mutual Pining for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo // Divorce for @spnmixedbingo // Free Space for @spnfluffbingo // Laughing Together for @anyfandomfluffbingo // Warnings: Toxic past relationships, divorce, new beginnings, mutual pinning, jealousy, mental health. Word Count: 1.4k Rating: General Audience A/N: This is vaguely based on the Nicholas Sparks movie "Safe Heaven". I saw it the other day and felt inspired to write this. The timeline events are rushed, I know, but this is what my muse decided. Also this is my first time writing for Misha, so please be nice. Enjoy the reading!

After finally getting divorced from your abusive husband, you decided to get a new start in your life. You bought a ticket for the first bus that was leaving. in one of the rest stops, you felt a deep connection, it felt like the town was asking you to stay there. You “accidentally” miss the bus. since you didn’t have many belongings, you were able to stay there and get the fresh start you needed and wanted. You found a small motel and rented a single room. You had a place to stay, now, you needed to find a job. You knew it was gonna take time, but you needed to keep yourself positive.

While walking around town, you found a small diner, you went there to eat something, you left with a job there, you were their newest waitress. The universe was paying off all the bad you went through, and finally, your new life started.

You’ve been working as a waitress for a few weeks now and you were finally feeling at home. You’ve made friends with your coworkers and some regular clients, but there was someone who always sat at the same place, waiting for you. Every time you went to his table, he would give you a big smile and greet you with pet names. Brianna, one of your co-workers and first friend you've made, said that he sat there because he had a crush on you.

Could’ve been true? Did he have a crush on you? He was a very handsome man, he had very beautiful blue eyes, a big smile, and he seemed to have a great heart, he was always treating everyone with such love and care. Everyone at the diner loved him and with each passing day, you could see why.

On a particular day, this man was going to change your day. You were having a very awful day; your mood was bad and your mental health was in a bad place. You weren’t in the right headspace to deal with nosy customers, but because the customers weren’t the reason for your bad mood, you tried your best to keep it aside, but it was hard.

You were explaining to Brianna what was going on in your mind, when your exclusive customer came, you hadn't asked his name yet, you were too shy to do it. You grabbed the coffee pot and went to his table, “Hi beautiful” he greeted you with his perfect smile that made his eyes wrinkle, “Hello, sir. The usual?” you asked, avoiding any type of conversation. “Yes, darling. Are you okay?” He asked concerned, “I’m Misha, by the way” You didn’t have a tag name yet, so you had to tell him yours, even if you didn’t like the idea. “I’m Y/N, and yes, I’m fine” you almost whispered the last part.

“Are you sure?” he asked and you nodded. You had to be strong and not break in front of him. “I’ll be right back with your order sir,” you smiled, and when you were about to leave, he said “Misha,” you nodded again and repeated his name.

You asked Brianna to cover you for five minutes, you needed some fresh air, she accepted without hesitation. She knew what you were going through, she was the first friend you made after starting your new life there. You stayed outside for a few minutes and went back inside. You made it to the kitchen, grabbed Misha’s order, and took it to his table. You faked a smile at him, and handed him his order saying “enjoy your meal,” you turned around and left. After that, you decided to stick at the cashier, you didn’t have the energy to deal with people.

When Brianna went to gather the used plates, you saw that she had stayed talking a bit with Misha and she kept glancing at you. What was she telling him? Why did she need to keep looking at you while talking with him? When she was about to leave him, you heard her saying, “Don’t worry, it's all right” and she touched his shoulder. Was she flirting with him? Was she trying to make you feel jealous?

Wait, why would she want to make you feel jealous? You are not interested in Misha, you’ve just gotten out of a complicated divorce, you were hurt, you were still fighting the nightmares your ex left in you. You weren’t looking for love, but the way Misha treated you, burst your heart. Not even your ex-husband treated you like that when you were dating. Misha was special, and you felt somewhat attracted to that.

You kept your long face for the rest of your shift, not wanting to deal with people’s bullshit, you kept a straight face and not show any emotion. Yes, the regular customers could sense that you weren’t in your regular and happy mood, but they also knew to not mess up with you. By the end of your shift, the cook gave you some packed food for your dinner and you filled up your travel cup with coffee. You said your goodbyes and left.

It was around 6 PM when you were leaving, there was still some daylight so probably when you arrived at your motel’s room was going to be dark. You started to walk when you noticed Misha sitting on one of the outside benches, he definitely was waiting for someone. You weren’t in the mood to talk with him but you had to, he was on the bench that was in the direction you needed to take.

You walked by next to him and said your goodbyes. He looked up and called you, “hey Y/N, wait,” you turned around and said “what happened? are you waiting for someone and need company?” in a harsh tone, “yes, well, actually, I was waiting for you,” you gasped, did you hear him correctly? “Me?” he got up and signaled you to keep walking, “yes, I wanted to talk to you. I noticed you weren’t having a good day and wanted to know if everything was fine” he admitted, you sighed, this couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t tell him you were trying to figure out if you had feelings for him or not.

“Look, Misha,” you said stopping your track, “I really appreciate your concern but, I don’t want to be rude. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to fix me. I’m too messed up right now to think about anything.” Misha was taken aback by your outburst, his expression showed he was more confused now than before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’ll leave you alone,” he said hurt. It broke your heart seeing him hurt, you had screwed up a new friendship, relationship, or whatever, but you knew one thing, you needed to fix it. “Wait,” you said grabbing his hand. “I’m the one who needs to be sorry, you just wanted to help and I took it on you. I’m sorry,” he gave you a small smile and nodded but he didn’t let your hand go.

You stood there with him for a little until he took you to the bench where he was seated before. You stayed there talking with him, getting to know him a bit more. Your stomach got filled with butterflies after talking for an hour with him.

“Wait here,” you said pulling the packed food aside, you hadn’t noticed but there was a message there. “It’s enough food for two. Enjoy. Bri” you chuckled after reading Bri’s message. “What is it?” Misha asked and you showed him what Bri has written on your packed food, both of you started to laugh. When the laugh ended, you were nervous and to avoid getting awkward with him you asked “uh, would you like to have dinner with me?” Misha’s smile got even bigger than normal. “Yes, I would love to” he answered. You were about to get up when he stopped you. He leaned in, put a hand on your cheek, and pecked your lips, your heart stopped beating. Now, you were a goner. His gestures toward you made you weak in your knees. He got up and extended his hand, you took it and walked hand in hand with him to your motel room.

On the walk to your motel, you explained to him while you were still at a motel and not in a rented apartment. You also explained a bit about your past and why it was related to your bad mood. He was very understanding, he let you talk without interrupting. You haven’t felt at ease with a man in years. He definitely had a special place in your heart.

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[holylulusworld]

The end, too soon

Title: The end, too soon

Square filled for @spnquotebingo​ (“But what is grief, if not love persevering?”) WV

Square filled for @spnmixedbingo​​ Main character death

Summary: Life without Dean is not the same.

Ship: former Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of character’s death, grief, sadness, hopelessness, loss of a loved one, hurt & comfort (a hint), character’s death, blood, a hint of suicidal tendency, fluff

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A/N: Story is written in the reader’s PoV as she’s talking to Dean.

Sequel to Happy birthday, my beloved

Written in reader’s PoV

You know what they say – The brave are always the first to die.

I chuckle humorlessly as yet another hunter tries to convince me I should celebrate your life, not be sad about my loss.

What do they know about my loss? 

You were the love of my life, my partner in crime, lifting me whenever I felt down. And this one time you needed me; I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fast enough.

I let you down…

I leave the bar to get away from too many people wanting to celebrate your life with me as I just want to lay down and die.

“Sam left the bunker months ago. He found a nice girl. You would’ve liked her, baby,” I lift my glass, to bring it to my lips. “He said that watching me destroy myself slowly is the worst thing to watch.”

What does he know about my loss?

“I know he lost his brother too, but he tries to move on, ya know. I—I just can’t, Dean,” my eyes drift toward the flannel I placed on your side of the bed the day I came back home from your funeral. “It’s a year now…”

Sam isn’t wrong. I know it, he knows it. Hell, everyone else knows it. But I just can’t move on. 

Not now. Not ever…

“Sammy is happy, Dean. He retired and got the life he deserves. White picket fence and all, baby. I’m proud of him,” I push the tears away to not blur my vision even more. “I miss you so much. How can I ever move on without you? We had plans.”

You would laugh at me for talking to a picture, knowing your soul is long gone. Waiting for me in heaven…our heaven.

“Dude, can you imagine? Sam retired and the first thing he did was to tell me to get out of this life too,” I choke on my words, knowing Sam meant well. “How dare him to ruin my fun!”

I can almost hear your deep voice, my beloved. I still feel your hands on me and your breath in my neck.

Some days I see you sit in Baby when I dare to enter the garage to have a look at your beloved car.

“I take good care of you Baby, promised. She looks as good as ever. Just one thing is missing,” I crack a smile for the empty room and the ghost of you following me around, “you…”

It’s been a while since I talked to someone else but your ghost. I just wish you were here. Being selfish is not one of the things I’m proud of, but to have you back, I’d go to heaven to drag you back down here.

“Do you remember the day?” I whisper, eyes drifting toward your picture on my nightstand again. “We didn’t want to hunt those stupid masked vampires. You found it funny and—”

I shake my head at the memory, the last happy moments with you, my beloved. We ate pie and had fun. But then, the fun ended.

Every time I imagined our end or yours, it wasn’t like this. I wanted us to grow old together. Stupid, I know.

Hunters don’t grow older. Especially not together.

“I believed in us, Dean. All these years I believed in us and then…” I close my eyes to release a shuddery breath.

I still smell your blood and feel your heartbeat slow down. I taste your lips on mine, hear you say your goodbyes to me and Sam as if it just happened.

“A year, huh?” I hear Sam say. He stands in the doorframe, awkwardly glancing at me. “I didn’t know if I’m welcome here any longer but had to come around.”

“Sammy,” I jump up to wrap your brother in a hug. He’s the only connection to you I got left. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

“I wasn’t so sure after the last time we talked.”

“I—I was drunk and angry, Sam. I’m sorry for all the shit I said,” I sniffle silently as I allow myself to let Sam hold me for a moment. “Dean’s death wasn’t your fault, and I should’ve never said Dean would be disappointed as you wanted to leave the bunker and your old life. You deserve all the good things, Sammy.”

“You too, Y/N. Come with me,” Sam says but I shake my head. “We will find you a nice new place to live, a job and—”

“Sammy, I love you like a brother and I know you mean well, but I cannot leave this place,” I cling to my past with you, and leaving the bunker means leaving the last pieces of you I got behind. “I will try to move on, eventually. Just not now.”

“Please, come with me. If you stay here, haunted by memories, you will end up dead sooner or later. I know you are hunting on your own,” I can hear fear and anger in Sam’s voice. “Dean wouldn’t want you to get yourself killed.”

“No, he would want me by his side, Sam. Dean would want to drive around in his car, kill the monsters out there and make love to me in Baby. Dean would want you to have us around and not spend his time in heaven!” I cry. “I—just leave me alone!”

“Y/N, your grief will get you killed!”

“Sam, my grief is what keeps me alive.” I give your brother a cracked smile while tears run down my face, “It makes me feel alive. Without the burning pain in my chest, I’d believe I died with Dean in that barn.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Sam whispers sadly.

“But what is grief, if not love persevering? Right? In the end, it’s my love for Dean keeping me alive, not grief. I know you miss him too, but please, find a way to move on, Sammy. One day, I want us to meet up in heaven again.”

“Y/N…”

“Just not yet, Sammy,” I pet your brother’s cheek softly. “Live for us. Make us proud. Have a family, a life outside of blood and despair. And when the time has come, you’ll find us…”

It takes three months, five days, and sixteen hours before I find myself on Bobby’s doorstep. “Kiddo, it’s good to see you,” he smiles sadly at me. “I just wish you didn’t follow Dean so soon.”

“Where?” I cry. “Where is he, Bobby?”

“Heya, sweetheart,” I feel my heart flutter and my legs give in. “You are even more beautiful than I remember,” I’m in your arms moments later.

I cry and cry, as I finally found you again. “Dean.”

“Why, Y/N? I thought you will take the other road, find an out,” you whisper against my lips. “I wanted you to have a life.”

“I had a life, with you,” I let you envelop me with your strong arms, your scent, and voice. “I didn’t want another…”

“I missed ya, beautiful girl,” you don’t mention I was too reckless on my last hunt. That somehow, I wanted to end up dead on the ground, my body growing cold while I bled out. 

“The only thing I regret is that Sam must attend another burial,” I sniffle. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Sammy is going to be fine. He’ll be around, okay,” I nod, lifting my head to meet your eyes and a soft smile. “We will all be back together soon enough. Now, do you want to go for a ride?”

“A ride?” you guide me toward Baby, showing me your second favorite girl. “She’s here too?”

“It’s my heaven, right? Everyone I love is here, Y/N,” I smile, feeling at peace for the first time since I lost you. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Yeah. We should hurry before Sam finds us,” we barely spend a night in your car before we find Sam.

But to him, many years have passed. 

He had a family. Grew old. But Samuel Winchester never forgot about his brother, Baby, and the life we shared.

“Heya, Sammy,” you welcome your brother, making me smile. “Bitch, what took you so long?”

“Jerk,” Sam retorts, hugging you for the first time in years.

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