#❰ LAPTOP LOSER. ▬ SAM WINCHESTER ❱
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Naughty High School Adventures (1) - Kinktober 28
Summary: Why do you date an asshole? That’s what Sam and Dean want to know.
Pairing: Janitor!Sam Winchester x Teacher!Reader x Gymteacher!Dean Winchester
Warnings: shy reader, two guys want one girl, awful boyfriend, mentions of cheating, a hint of making out, implied cucking/cucking, jealous Dean, language
A/N: Because I have no self-control, I turned this one into a mini-series.
Kink: Cucking
Idea by: @moosekateer13
Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023
“Sonofabitch!“ Dean barely has the time to jump aside as the guy he despises almost runs him over with his brand-new bike. “Don’t you have eyes, idiot! This is a high school parking lot, not a racetrack!”
“What the fuck!” One of Dean’s colleagues exclaims loudly. She barely had the time to hide behind Dean’s car to not end up under the man’s bike. “What a loser!”
“Exactly,” Dean agrees. “That dick-less loser always makes such a fuss. I can’t believe Y/N is dating that asshat.”
“Well, she was lonely for a while. Maybe Y/N believes no one else is interested in her. She’s a little shy and always looks a little nerdy. Her taste in clothing isn’t better.”
Dean furrows his brows. “What?” He cocks his head to glance at his colleague. “But she looks cute. Did you see her outfit today? I liked the gray sweater, pleated skirt, and black flats. She looked so small next to me.”
“What is going on?” Sam, Dean’s younger brother and the new janitor at the high school asks. He cocks his head to watch his brother frown deeply. “Isn’t that the cute teacher you tried to hit on?”
“Shut up, Sammy. Her douchebag boyfriend almost ran me and Lisa over,” Dean grunts as he must watch the teacher he tried to invite for weeks walk toward the douche almost running him over. “I hope she doesn't get on that bike. That asshat doesn’t even wear a helmet.”
Sam grins. “Dean, she won’t get on that bike. Y/N is a responsible person. Plus, she’s got like ten books, her laptop, and a bag.”
“You're right,” Dean nods thoughtfully while watching you and your boyfriend. “Bastard didn’t even offer to take her books or shit.”
“Hmm…maybe we should lend her a hand?” Sam dips his head to look at his brother. “You know, to help her carry the books and all.”
“She’s talking to her…” Dean frowns as the cute teacher turns back around to stomp toward the building. “Uh-oh, I guess she’s mad at him. We should check on her. Right?”
“It’s the right thing to do, Dean,” the younger brother agrees. “The building is almost empty, and I need to lock it. Everyone is already on his way home to enjoy the weekend.”
“Oh…OH!” Dean looks at his brother, smirking darkly. “We shouldn’t leave her all alone at the building. That would be ungentlemanlike.”
“Y/N,” you startle when Dean Winchester, the gym teacher, enters your classroom. You wipe your eyes and try not to show that you cried. “Is everything alright? My brother wanted to lock the building and saw you walk back inside.”
“I-“ you sigh deeply and shake your head. “My boyfriend bought an expensive motorcycle. I can’t believe he’s a thoughtless dumbass.” You huff. “My car broke down, and I asked him to pick me up. And he…he comes here with a brand-new bike while I cannot afford the money to repair my car. We talked about sharing finances and he goes off, spending money on things like this.”
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t waste your time on that asshole,” Dean steps inside the room, eyes trained on your face. “How about I drive you home, Y/N?”
“Really?” You gasp. “You will?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean brushes your excitement off. He acts as if it’s not a big deal for him to drive you home. Your boyfriend always made a fuss if you dared ask him to drive you somewhere. “But I need to help my brother first. I promised to help him collect the balls at the gym.”
“Oh, I can help too,” you lick your lips. “He’s always so kind.” You get up from your chair, pressing your thighs together at the thought of spending time with Dean and his younger brother. “He helped me more than once since he’s working here.”
“Sammy is a nice guy, and smart. He’s just a little shy around pretty girls,” your colleague flashes you a grin. “He only works as a janitor to make some extra cash for Stanford. He’s going to be a lawyer.”
“That’s great,” glancing at the books on your desk you sigh deeply. “Thank you for offering your help. My boyfriend is…”
“An asshole?” Dean offers, making you gasp.
“DEAN!”
“It’s true, sweetheart. A man shouldn’t treat you like he does,” your colleague argues. “I saw how he treated you firsthand today.”
You huff. “Can we not talk about him? I’m already fed up. We wanted to spend the weekend at his parents’ cabin, and now he’s having a sleepover with his buddies to do God knows over the weekend.”
“Let’s forget about your deadbeat of a boyfriend. How about my brother and I show you how a woman like you should be treated,” Dean grabs your books and laptop. “I promise we won’t do anything you don’t like. Give it a thought.”
Dean flashes you a smile making you go weak in the knees. He’s holding out his free hand, offering something more than a ride home.
You take his hand without hesitation and say, “Will your brother be around too?”
“Oh sweetheart, he cannot wait to get his hands on you.”
You didn’t know what you expected would happen if you followed Dean into the gym to join his brother. But you knew they were up to more than chit-chat.
At first, you talked a bit and helped Sam pick up the balls. He was a little shy but smiled the whole time. “Thank you for the help. This way I can finish work earlier.”
“Sammy is a little shy,” Dean suddenly stood behind you to whisper in your ear. “But I know he’s burning to bury his fat cock in your sweet cunt, Y/N. What do you say? Do you want to have two men satisfying your needs for once? I know that limp-dick of a boyfriend didn’t do you right.”
“Dean, I—” you licked your lips. Sam was suddenly more interested in cupping your face with his large hands than cleaning the gym. “We barely know each other. I mean…you’re hot…shit…did I say this loud?”
“Just say yes, sweetheart, and we are going to be so good to you,” Sam smirked at his brother’s words. “We will make sure you can’t walk straight after we are done with you.”
Dean nuzzled you. “Dean and I will make you feel so good, Y/N. Since you started working here, we wanted to make a move.”
“You did?” You breathlessly replied. Having the brothers so close arouses you more than anything. The thought of having them both makes you dizzy. “Really.”
“I’ve been walking around with a raging hard-on every day since I saw you in your short skirts and little blouses for the first time. Do you want this? Do you want Sammy and me to take care of you sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you spluttered before you could change your mind. “I-we…he’s not very interested in me lately. I guess he’s cheating on me or shit.”
Three hours later, …
“What this?” Your boyfriend opens the video you sent him some hours ago. He presses play, and his eyes widen.
“Hey there, you sonofabitch,” Dean taunts. “Do you want to know how your now ex-girlfriend will spend her weekend? How about I tell you.”
“She will be full of cock, just like right now…”
“I hope you’ll like the show…” Sam adds. “We will see if you get to watch next time…”
Part 2
Tags in reblog.
#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester x reader#Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023#Naughty High School Adventures (1) - Kinktober 28
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Current fanfics that I'm writing:
Byler:
A Glimmer of Light Refusing to Fade (gonna be writing this til the day I die istg-)
Safe in Your Arms (basically, in college after the UD, Will gets a boyfriend, and sure, Mike’s jealous, but that has nothing on the fear that he feels when he learns about what Will’s boyfriend does to him behind closed doors)
Echo (the Orpheus and Eurydice-inspired Byler fanfic I posted the poll about)
SPN:
Fading Shadows, Rising Light (a fic about Dean Winchester growing up and what he has to do to survive - and whether or not he can ever find happiness) (currently paused until I finish the main plot of Glimmer, which should be about a month or two)
Taller (Sam learns he's taller than Dean as a teenager)
Season 16 (I write screenplays for season 16 but they're all the plots the SPN fandom has wanted over the years)
IT:
Secrets (in order to destroy Pennywise's power over them, the Losers have to confess their deepest secrets and regrets)
Shadow of Fear (Stan never takes a bath, and so IT Chapter Two goes much differently)
In other words, someone confiscate my laptop before I start another WIP 😭
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Title: Pink Pulse
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: explicit
Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic
Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.
Word Count: 4.5k
READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3
When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.
Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.
It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.
His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.
There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.
He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.
“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”
Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.
“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”
“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”
“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”
Sam scoffs into the phone.
“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”
Sam hangs up without another word.
There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.
Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.
“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”
A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.
“Who’s this?”
“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”
Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.
“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”
Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.
Holy shit. What the fuck.
Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.
Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.
He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.
Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.
And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-
Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.
“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-
Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-
“Fuck.”
Dean looks irritated.
“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”
Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.
“Shut up and take a shower.”
Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.
“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”
If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.
“You don’t stink.”
“Then what?”
Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.
“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.
“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”
“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”
Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.
“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”
Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.
“Sammy… what…”
“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.
Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.
That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.
There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.
“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.
Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”
What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?
Decisions, decisions.
Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.
“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.
“Fuck, Dean…”
“Huh? Not good?”
Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!
Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.
“I need to taste you.”
Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.
“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”
Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.
Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -
Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.
Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.
Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.
In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”
Dean shudders. He needs more.
“Sammy, keep going.”
Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.
His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.
“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.
Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.
“I never really listened.”
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.
“You should��ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”
Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…
“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”
“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”
But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!
Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…
Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.
When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.
“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.
“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”
Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?
Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.
“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.
Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”
“Damn right…”
Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.
Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.
Silence.
Awkward.
Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.
Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.
“You didn’t even kiss me first.”
“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.
Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.
His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.
“Sammy…”
Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.
“You’re big.”
Scoff.
“Am I?”
“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.
“Fuck. Dean.”
These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.
The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.
“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”
Sam just has to laugh.
“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.
The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?
More than once…?
Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.
“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.
“Hurts?”
Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.
This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.
“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.
Sam huffs.
“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.
He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.
On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.
“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”
Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”
There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.
“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”
Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”
Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.
“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.
Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”
He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.
They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.
Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.
“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”
Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.
Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.
Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.
“Oh. Shit.”
He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.
“Dean, really?”
“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”
Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”
“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”
Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?
“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”
Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.
Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.
Consequences? Which consequences?
Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.
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Meant To Be - Chapter 3
Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.
Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor
Word Count: 2038
Warnings: None.
Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Jordan rolled over and shut off her alarm, yawning and stretching. The last few days had been a whirlwind, but she was starting to get used to waking up in her new surroundings. Donna’s apartment was bright and sunny, pretty much like the woman herself. She had welcomed Jordan with open arms, literally, and immediately installed her in the second bedroom, down the hall from Donna’s room.
After taking a week to settle in, at Sam’s insistence, she was ready to start her new job at Winchester Law. Sam was picking her up in a couple of hours to get her acquainted with the office and do all the annoying paperwork involved, so she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. As she got ready to step in, she remembered that her tiny sample shampoo had run out the morning before, and she sighed, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself as she headed out to look for her new roomie.
She walked into the living room as she called out, “Hey, Donna, do you have any shampoo I could borr…” The front door swung open as she was in mid-sentence, and Dean walked in, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw her. “Oh…shit.” Jordan clutched the towel around herself a little tighter, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Dean. Hi. I’m so embarrassed right now.”
Dean, however, looked incredibly pleased with himself, a slow grin spreading across his face, his eyes full of mischief. “Don’t be embarrassed on my account. I’m good.”
“Dean Winchester!” Donna’s voice scolded as she rushed by Jordan and directly over to her partner, turning him around and shoving him to the door. “What are you doing in here?”
Dean turned his head, a confused scowl on his face as he was forced into the hall. “What?! I always come in when I pick you up… coffee...”
“Go back to the car and wait for me, I’ll bring your coffee. You can’t just walk in here now, I’m not the only one who lives here, Dean. For Pete’s sake!”
“Sorry! For fuck’s sake, stop shoving me!” He turned around to grin at Jordan again. “It was really nice to see you, Jordan,” he said with a wink as Donna slammed the door closed in his face. They could hear his laughter as he headed down the hall, and in spite of her embarrassment, Jordan couldn’t smother a little smile.
“That man! I’m so sorry,” Donna apologized. “He has always just let himself in and got his coffee here, but I’m always up, dressed and ready to go before he gets here and it’s just a habit. I didn’t even think about it.”
Jordan shook her head. “Not your fault, I shouldn’t be wandering around in a towel. I just forgot my little bottle of shampoo ran out yesterday. Can I borrow some until I can get to the store?”
“Oh, honey, help yourself to anything you need from my shower! When I get home tonight, we’ll make a run to the store, get you stocked up.” She put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry – are you okay?”
Jordan smiled, her cheeks still flushed pink. “I’m fine. I’ll just probably never hear the end of this.”
Donna nodded, her dimples showing, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, count on it. He’ll never let this one go. Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tonight.”
Dean shoved his desk drawer closed a little harder than necessary, and his partner shot him a look, shaking her head. “What? I hate desk duty.”
“Oh, I know. Which is why you have such a pile of paperwork there. Why don’t you just settle in and do it, get caught up while we’re stuck in here.”
He glared at Donna, then at the pile of papers on the corner of his desk. “Hate paperwork,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a handful of unfinished reports and opened his laptop.
“Just think how good it’ll feel to get all of that work finished and out of your hair.” Donna smiled, unfazed by the baleful look Dean shot her way.
“Leave it to me to get Miss Mary Sunshine as my partner,” he grumbled, and Donna’s smile grew wider.
“You’re welcome,” she grinned back at him, then went to work on her own stack.
Jordan jumped as a knock echoed through the apartment, rushing to the door and peering through the peephole. “Sam! Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to come up here and get me! I thought you’d just text me or something.”
Sam smiled, his dimples winking as he stepped inside. “I thought I could at least come up the first time I picked you up. Didn’t want to just sit outside and blow the horn.” Jordan laughed, grabbing her jacket from the couch.
“Ok, I guess I’m ready. I wasn’t sure how to dress...” She had debated for an hour, finally putting on a pair of dress slacks and a blouse, and she looked up at Sam for his approval.
“You could honestly wear whatever you want, I usually wear jeans. Whatever makes you comfortable, it doesn’t matter to me. In fact, a lot of the time you can probably just work from home if you want, after we get the office organized again. It’s kind of a disaster right now, sorry.”
“We’ll get it all sorted out, no worries. Once you fill me in on your filing system and how you want things done, I’ll get it taken care of.” She smiled up at him, ever amazed at how tall the man was. “Well, boss, we’re losing daylight.”
“Great. I hired a slave driver,” he teased, and they made their way out of the apartment together.
Jordan flopped onto the sofa with a satisfied smile, letting her head drop back as she let her mind wander over her day. There really was a lot of organizing to do in Sam’s office, due to his lack of help for the last few weeks, but she had made a pretty good dent. After this week, she could probably work out of the apartment most days, maybe go in one day a week to do filing and such. Sam was such an easy-going guy, he was going to be a dream to work for. And his fiance, Sarah, was so nice – she had stopped in during the day, and they hit it off right away.
Her phone rang and she grabbed it, smiling as she saw Dean’s name. “Hope that new boss of yours isn’t too much of an asshole,” he teased.
“Oh, he’s terrible! Even meaner than his brother.”
Dean laughed. “Yeah, I hear he’s a real jerk.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” she giggled in reply. “So what’s up, Detective Winchester?”
“Donna and I wondered if you’d be interested in going out for a couple of beers, maybe some pub food? Then we can stop off at the store so you can pick up what you need.”
“That sounds great – what time?”
“We’ll be there in about – 45 or so? If you can be ready by then.”
“No problem, I’ll be waiting, just give me a yell and I’ll come down.”
“Awesome. See you later.”
She sighed happily as she laid her phone back down, letting her eyes close for a moment. Dean’s face was right there, his eyes shining as he smiled at her, and she silently scolded herself. He wasn’t interested in her like that, and she needed to get a grip on her feelings before they carried her away. He was just a friend, and daydreaming about him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. “Slow your roll, Jordan,” she told herself firmly, then got up and went to her room to change.
Dean drove to Dooley’s Pub, the normal watering hole he and Donna frequented. It was a cop-friendly bar, the owner was a retired police sergeant, and he called out a greeting to them as they walked in. The three of them grabbed a table, ordered a round of beers and started chatting about their day, munching pretzels from the bowl the waitress had dropped off. “So, how was it working for my brother?” Dean asked, and Jordan smiled.
“He’s going to be an awesome boss. I think we’re gonna get along great. How was desk duty today?”
Dean rolled his eyes, and Donna laughed. “You should have heard him whining all day, you’d think they made him clean the toilets or somethin’.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” he fired back, and his partner shook her head, then looked at Jordan.
“He was like an overgrown three-year-old, Jordan. Don’t let him fool ya. He can pout with the best of ‘em.”
Jordan grinned. “Awwww… it’s only for two weeks.”
Dean huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Two weeks is gonna drive me insane.”
“Short trip,” Donna quipped, and the girls laughed again, Dean failing to completely smother the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
“All right, all right – just for that, I’m gonna kick your ass at darts.”
“Oooh, I’ll play the winner – or the loser. Whatever,” Jordan offered, and they moved over near the dart board.
Dean easily beat Donna, and she punched him in the shoulder as she moved back to the table. “Go get ‘im, Jordan. Somebody needs to wipe that cocky smile off his face,” she teased.
“Yeah, that’s probably not gonna happen, but… I’ll do what I can,” Jordan answered, taking the darts from Dean’s hand.
“After you,” he offered with a sweep of his hand, and Jordan stepped up, taking aim. The first dart hit the floor, and he laughed as she swore under her breath. The second barely hung on to the board, finally falling out as her third buried itself in the wall beside the dart board.
“Epic fail.” She shook her head with disgust, and Dean went to retrieve her darts.
“Okay, let’s call that practice. Here…” He reached towards her, then stopped, looking into her eyes. “Is it okay if I...”
“Yes, please, help,” she laughed. He laid his darts on the table and turned towards her, and her breath caught in her chest as he gripped her hips in his hands, turning her slightly to adjust her stance.
“Now, when you throw, you should kind of snap your wrist to give it a little more speed.” He made adjustments to her arm and her grip on the dart, and she was beginning to wonder if she’d have the presence of mind to throw the damn thing when he was finished touching her. “Okay, give it a try.”
She glanced up at him and nodded, then focused her eyes on the board. The first two landed in halfway decent spots, and the third buried itself right next to the bullseye. She cheered and turned to throw her arms around his neck in an excited hug, then backed away, blushing. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d get it!”
Donna was grinning as she watched them. “You got it, girl! A little practice and you’ll be kicking his ass!”
They played their game, Dean winning, of course, and Jordan finished the last of her beer before heading to the bathroom. “I suppose, if we’re stopping at the store, we should take off. We all have to work tomorrow. But first – the little girls’ room.” She plopped her glass back on the table and took off, and Dean sat down, finishing the Coke he had switched to since he was driving.
“So…” Donna said, a knowing smirk on her face.
“So… what?” Dean’s confused frown made her giggle.
“I saw you. You’ve got a thing for her.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Look, I was just helping her with...”
“Save it, partner. You are falling for her, and she’s definitely into you, so what the hell are you waiting for?”
Dean dropped his head and glared at her from under his frowning brow, the dimples above his mouth deepening. “Shut up.”
Donna laughed softly, complying with his request for the time being since Jordan was headed back their way. “All right, you two – let’s hit the road.”
Chapter 4
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I binge-watched the spn anime because of the brain rot
It’s bad except for the parts that are good, and it’s pretty to look at. Here’s a comprehensive list of pros and cons. Spoilers ahead!
Pros:
- more psychic kid backstories: Max (Nightmare), Lily (Darkness Calling), Jake (Loser)
- more psychic Sam
- more Azazel
- basically if you want more about the psychic/demon kids, watch the anime
- more young Winchesters
- the monsters, the superhuman abilities, the fight scenes, it all looks really cool animated. (But PSA it’s violent. It doesn’t shy away from blood and gore.)
- Sam and Jessica backstory
- more of the brothers being cute and funny together
- Missouri isn’t forgotten
- includes some Japanese legends/mythology
- the impala looks great in every scene. They did Baby good
- the “Supernatural” intro title
- the outro sketches of the boys hanging out with Baby
- Episodes adapted from the original show are different, but I like some of the changes? It’d be boring if it was an exact retelling and the visual medium wasn’t utilized. (I know I said spoilers before, but this is when they get detailed. If you wanna skip over, I’ll tell you where they STOP.)
Nightmare goes more into the abuse Max has suffered. Instead of locking Sam in a closet, Max sends Sam through the floor and covers the hole by breaking his bed in half, and it’s extremely sexy how Sam shoves the 2 halves apart with his mind. Later on Dean puts bandaids on Sam and they talk about demons loudly in front of a fast food intercom.
In My Time of Dying highlights the guilt Sam feels over Dean. In both the og and the anime John verbally blames Sam for not shooting Azazel, but where in the og Sam goes right on arguing, in the anime he reels back for a moment like he was slapped. Dean’s spirit touches Sam’s shoulder, and Sam knows immediately that it’s Dean. He doesn’t even question it. Instead of “Are you here?” it’s “I know you’re with me. I can feel it.” And I love that. Dean figures out right away he’s dealing with a reaper, and the reaper takes on the appearance of Mary to convince Dean to move on to the afterlife. Instead of a Ouija board, Sam uses a laptop to talk to Dean, and the first word Dean types is “Sammy!” Dean is so fond of his little brother and Sam is so baby.
Rising Son is an anime only episode, but it draws inspiration from John’s journal. Dean has a proper breakdown over his dad’s death and the possibility of having to kill Sam. Ms. Lyle, Sam’s favorite teacher who turns out to be possessed, is explored. John takes Dean hunting, and in the journal Dean hesitates to shoot a buck, and little Sam shoots it thinking it was endangering Dean. In the anime, Dean’s cornered by a moose and Sam makes it explode with his mind and it’s so !!! How little Sam’s first words are, “I’m glad you’re okay. It didn’t hurt you?” The boys are covered in blood and guts and Dean’s like 👁👄👁 “Why are you here? Did you do this?” And then Sam starts freaking out a little, the shock sets in. “I don’t know. I don’t know, honest.” And he’s staring at his hands, and I am a big fan of Sam showing superhuman signs as a kid. Like in the journal, Ms. Lyle tries to take Sam. She gives Sam the illusion of a choice to come with her or stay with Dean, and Sam chooses Dean. This ep is pretty much when John figures out Sam has demon blood. He kills another hunter that wants to kill Sam.
Crossroad is based on Crossroad Blues, and I love how the crossroads demon shows up. It’s hard to describe, but it’s so neat, like she’s walking underneath Dean in this mirror world, and then the mirror world takes over the regular world, so you really get this sense of otherworldly seclusion, existing outside of time.
What Is and Should Never Be shows Dean is a firefighter in his ‘Mary never died’ world, and Sam got to play soccer growing up like he wanted. The brothers hold each other after Dean is saved from the Djinn.
AHBL part 1. When Azazel shows Sam that he fed Sam his blood, Sam gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, and I like that reaction more than the live action. The psychic kids get to go more anime with their powers, and that’s a lot of fun. They don’t need weapons. Ava slams Sam into the brick side of a building and cuts him without touching him. Jake snaps Ava’s neck with one hand and then catches Sam in his arms. When Jake attacks Sam, there’s no gun or knife. He’s relying on his super strength, his fists. Sam throws his arms up to protect himself, and (accidentally?) pushes Jake back with his mind, and the collision creates a crater in the ground. Jake puts his fist through Sam’s chest to kill him. It’s brutal and it’s rad as fuck. These kids are terrifyingly powerful.
The Sam and Dean reunion before Sam is killed is not as emotional as the live action imo, but what the anime does intrigues me. Hurts in a different way. Because Sam is stunned after he uses telekinesis again, on Jake, and when he hears Dean behind him Sam freezes. He doesn’t look relieved to see Dean, but wary and weary. It’s Dean taking steps towards him, not the other way around, and it has to be because Sam doesn’t know if Dean saw him push Jake back. Sam doesn’t know how Dean’s going to respond to all this, to him, having powers that come from a demon, the demon, Azazel. Sam hasn’t had a chance to process anything. He’s scared. He’s tired. And the way the anime focuses on Sam’s eyes here. Gah. “Dean. Dean, I’m...” I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m a monster. There’s also this one shot between Sam and Azazel that sends me because of how anime it is.
AHBL part 2. I love how Sam brought back to life is animated, with all the color returning to his face and a light wind rustling his hair and his lips parting to indicate his soul returning to his body. Jake attacks Dean, and, a lot like how Sam activates telekinesis to save Dean from Max in Nightmare, Sam gets a burst of superhuman strength. He rips Jake’s arm off and tackles him to the ground and beats him to death, punches holes into his body, and it’s so savage and bloody and scary, and I love it. The Devil’s Gate opening looks so cool animated. Same goes for Dean shooting Azazel with the Colt.
Not to turn this into a meta post, but I also noticed how the last couple times Sam uses his powers they’re colored green-yellow, the same colors as Mary’s ghost when she reveals herself in the anime’s Home, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but it’s neat how it draws a connection to Sam’s biological family instead of Azazel’s blood.
The Spirit of Vegas is like Bad Day at Black Rock, but Dean has all the bad luck instead, and it shows off the silly cartoony physics that make animation fun. The boys sleep outside and split a chunk of bread for dinner. Also this lil bit of Dean’s hair tied in a bow.
- (STOP) the brothers are pretty. I am not immune to animated Sam and Dean Winchester.
Cons:
- Jensen doesn’t voice Dean until the last 2 episodes
- The English dialogue is really bad sometimes. I wish I could’ve watched the sub, but I couldn’t figure out how to change the language
- Some character designs are really different from the live action, and maybe that’s petty, but if you’re gonna change the characters diversify them? Don’t just make them unrecognizable white people
- Missouri’s design as a stereotypical witch doctor is racist
- Gordon is replaced by some British guy named Jason?? Why
- There’s an LGBT character who is not accepted by her family and, while that bigotry is always shown to be negative and she dies the hero of the episode, she still dies ://
- In the English dub Lily’s gf is made into her roommate instead. Idk about the sub
- Bobby’s pretty much a totally different character
- Sam and Dean are OOC sometimes
- Dean’s hair usually looks darker than Sam’s and it drives me crazy
- The storytelling is, overall, not nearly as good as the live action
- The non-Japanese lore in some episodes makes no sense. Sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous?? Like there’s a giant robot made of cars and scrap metal controlled by a demon? ? I wish I was making this up
- Meg’s role is severely reduced
- No Harvelles or Roadhouse
- Shadows are overused, but maybe that’s because the og show is so dark?
- I don’t mind the art style. I like the aesthetic, but I wish it was a little more expressive. It doesn’t do Sam’s puppy eyes justice.
- AZAZEL’S SHADOW?? PROPORTIONS?? PEA SIZED HEAD
- Idk why they mashed season 1 and 2 together? The story feels rushed
- there’s not as much chemistry between Sam and Dean, but that’s a given without J2 on screen
- Nobody tells you!! That there’s scenes after the credits!! And some of them are important! Why are important scenes after the credits??
The anime would not be good on its own, without the heart and depth the live action brings, but it works as supplementary material you can cherry pick from. I would watch more if there were more episodes.
It hasn’t turned me off from wanting an spn anime. I’d like to see it continued or redone, with updated animation and better scripts. There’s a lot of potential in exploring more about the psychic kids and Sam’s powers, storylines that were cut short in the og show. Animation is a great medium for showing off the supernatural, getting creative and creepier with the designs, dramatic with the fight scenes, without having to worry about bad CGI. I don’t want a live action reboot, but I think a redone animated series could be a lot of fun! (As long as it’s not an excuse to make any romantic ships take over. SPN is a platonic love story, and I like it that way.)
If you made it to the end here and are interested in watching the spn anime, you can watch it for free on the CW Seed app! You can probably stream it elsewhere, but idk where!
#spn anime#supernatural#supernatural the anime#my detailed pros is pretty much me letting you know what episodes are worth watching#and why#its bad but I kind of like it#I like what they were going for. the potential it has#I like sam and there's lots of sam
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The Same Bed - Chapter 2
Word count: 2895
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, unhealthy past relationship, slow burn.
A/N: Second chapter has arrived y’all. Read it, enjoy and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, or don’t I won’t force ya, as well as a masterlist so be sure to check it out. Anyway, as are the latest, Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.
Series masterlist
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The next week consisted of the same routine. Always in the same bed, always holding hands, with Dean falling asleep first. Tonight, was no different, apart from the bar they decide to hit after a very successful hunt before heading home. An easy salt ’n’ burn which went down without a hitch. Celebratory drinks were purchased and consumed by the Winchesters and their partner. They sat on the stools awaiting their next drinks while Y/N was approached by a man. Not unattractive by any means, well-built and clean. Sam looked over watching the interaction and Dean's behaviour knowing full well he may have to break up a fight if it went too far. Dean watched as Y/N shamelessly flirted with the gentlemen who had now caught her attention. It didn’t take very long for Dean's jealousy to overtake him as he clenched his fist around his beer bottle his posture tall and rigid. Y/N turned to the boys after wishing the stranger a good night.
“Hey guys I’m kind of beat, what’d you say we head home?”
“You turned down Prince Charming?” Trust Dean to make the ridiculous comments.
“Actually no, I told him I’d be more than willing to run away with him and have all his Prince Charming babies in his castle, but he didn’t want to make my boyfriend angry.” Trust Y/N to throw the comment right back at him.
“What boyfriend?” Y/N looked at Dean, a smirk on her face with one eyebrow raised as she pointed at him.
“He said you looked angry and didn’t want to provoke you by talking to me. So, thanks for that.” She started walking towards the exit a smirk on her face as Dean chased her, Sam holding up the tail laughing to himself.
“Don’t blame that on me I didn’t do anything! Oh, excuse me for being precautions and not wanting you to get hurt!” Dean could argue all he wanted but with Sam laughing and Y/N being as nonchalant as she was, he couldn’t get a reaction out of them. After getting home, they all made their way to bed. As always Y/N stayed with Dean, though tonight she couldn’t fall asleep and for good reason. Y/Ns phone had begun vibrating incessantly. She snatched it up swiftly with the aim of leaving Dean to his sleep, and she managed gracefully.
What woke Dean that night was something he would have described as a nightmare, though tonight it happened to be real and not a figment of his sleeping state. Dean opened his eye to see Y/N sitting up leaning against the headboard instead of the bright Y/E/C he was usually greeted with. Her gaze wasn’t on his as he’d hoped it’d be, it was on her phone, and they weren’t happy or refreshed as they ordinarily were, they were lacking in rest and filled with tears coupled with the sorrowful and provoked look on her face. Dean rushed to sit up looking at her, worry painted plain and clear on his face.
“Y/N! Are you okay? What happened?” His gaze had trailed to her phone which she briskly shut off, wiping tears away with her free hand.
“Dean! Sorry, I — Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just — I was reading the news.” She had always been a terrible liar.
“The news made you cry?” The disbelief overtook his expression. “Y/N I trusted you with my nightmares, you can trust me with — “ he waved his hand at the phone “whatever this is.”
“I know, I know I just — I want to forget about it…” Deans stare didn’t falter, waiting for her to continue. Y/N caved, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as though she could make it all disappear if she couldn’t see anything.
“I have this ex…” she peered over to Dean who made himself comfortable. She had his full and undivided attention, which she hated. “He’s mad about the breakup.”
“Y/N I’ve known you for ages you haven’t dated anyone in years.”
“Oh, I know…which just makes his advances and accusation all the more aggravating… His name is Carver. Keeps saying I messed up his life, that if I hadn’t shown up, he’d have been better off. Jokes on him I was the better half of that relationship and I can say that. Anyway, um, in short, he’s bombarding me with texts about how I never loved him, about how I played him and he’s accusing me of cheating and not doing enough for him, there’s more but it's all the same pathetic revelations he thinks I need to know about at two am four years after our breakup. I mean we didn’t even date that long to begin with it took me less than two months to figure out what a pig-headed loser he was — is!”
She was angry, hurt by the words directed at her. Regardless of the fact that she knew not to take Carver’s words to heart, she couldn’t help but do just that. Seeing as he had never been good with words, Dean instantly took action, pulling her close, hugging her as she cried her way back to sleep in his arms. Dean slid down in the bed, not once pulling away from Y/Ns body or moving her to her side. Dean found it difficult to keep the butterflies at bay as he focused on her breathing. He fell asleep with his girl on his chest and a smile on his lips.
When Y/N woke she could feel the weight of Dean's warm hand stroke her back and could hear a steady pulsing noise. Funny enough that, she soon identified the noise as Dean's heartbeat seeing as she was still laying on his chest. She moved cautiously unaware of the fact that the man she had fallen asleep on was in fact awake as well.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
“Morning, Dean. Listen about last night—“
“It's okay, really, I’m just glad I could be there for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, I seem to remember a pizza when you helped me…”
“Really? I don’t.” This was easy, Dean thought, comfortable, with Y/N resting gently against his chest looking up at him, his hand still stroking her back.
“Huh, I could have sworn there was a pizza.”
“Oh, you mean the one you finished off before I could get a chance to taste it. That pizza?”
“If I remember correctly, which I do, it was you who ate it all…before we even got home.”
“Oh, you mean that pizza. I do recall yes.” She smiled at him “And what would you like Dean?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“Fine but you’re buying, I’m just going with you.” Y/N made her way out of bed to the door.
“That’s hardly fair!” He called out after her, a smile adorning his face. Dean got up and moved to the bathroom stopping at the sink to look himself in the mirror.
“You’re losing this battle and you’re losing it bad. Man, how does she do it.” He brushed his teeth and made his way to the bunker library where Sam was researching, as always, on his laptop, books scattered over the table.
“Morning, Sammy. Y/N and I are going on a supply run, you need anything?” Dean's eyes trained over the opened pages before looking to his brother, eyebrows raised as he awaited his brother's response.
“You two have been spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Is that the title of a book or something you want me to pick up?” Sam watched his brother for a split second before Y/N joined them in the library dressed in black jeans and an equally black tank top, signature hunter flannel overtop.
“Morning, Sammy. Dean and I are going on a supply run. You need anything” The boys abandoned their stare before Sam answered as Dean headed for the door.
“No. Thank you. Oh, actually if you could bring back some cashews that would be great.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem. See you later Sam.” With that Y/N followed Dean to the garage where she was once again faced with the stunning, near mint ’67 impala she had come to love almost as much as the driver. Noticing the smile decorating Y/Ns face he proceeds to say the one sentence, sworn she would never in a million years, come out of Dean's mouth.
“You wanna drive?” Naturally, Y/N was speechless, mouth left agape as Dean held out the keys.
“You’re serious…” Eyes wide she whispered, tiptoeing over to Dean.
“Yeah, I figured it’s about time.” Y/N took the keys in her palm memorizing the weight as though this was the last time she’d ever have the opportunity to touch them, which of course wasn’t true; Dean would always give her the keys to grab things for the trunk. She eased her way into the driver's seat hardly blinking, as not to miss a detail of this experience. Taking a deep breath, her cheeks began to hurt from all the smiling as she started turned the key in the ignition bringing Baby to life.
“Oh, Dean…Oh Baby!” Dean tries his best to hold back his giggles as he watched her watch Baby.
“She likes you”
“She’s not a dog Dean, she a machine.” He could hear the adoration in her voice as she gripped the steering wheel. Y/N proceeded to put the impala in the drive, pulling out of the bunker's garage onto the road in the direction of the grocery store. Dean's eyes lit up and the eruption of laughter coming from next to him. Dean moved to turn on the stereo putting in a Who tape but was interrupted by Y/N.
“Nuh-uh! Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cake-hole! Your rules Dean-o. Look in the box, there should be an orange tape.” Taken aback by her dominance, Dean looks through the case of tapes.
“Dean-o? Really? That just sounds so stupid.”
“Well then it’s fitting isn’t it? And I was worried you thought it was cute.”
“Haha…There’s like 17 orange tapes in here you wanna be more specific.”
“It should say ‘the best of Zeppelin’ in black sharpie, my handwriting.” Dean's confusion and surprise grew as he finally reached for the tape described to him.
“Put it in.” Y/N couldn’t help but smirk at the innuendos running through her head though Dean missed it, too consumed by shock at her choice of music as he inserted the tape.
“The first one is my favourite Zeppelin song so no interrupting.” Instantly the aforementioned bands ‘No Quarter’ came on, filling the car with its gentle beginning. As the guitar and drums picked up Y/N smirked and nodded her head to the music.
“Just wait for the bass.” Without delay the instrument picked up, engulfing their mutual ears with something Y/N could only describe as “Better than breathing air.”
She sang the lyrics alongside Robert Plant at a hushed murmur not wanting to miss the words the artist performed. With every beat her fingers tapped on the steering, she consequently plucked at each of Dean's heartstrings. He felt a warm, nearly overwhelming feeling charge through his chest though as soon as he came to notice it, he pushed it down just as fast as it had made its way up.
Y/N still had a smile on her face when they arrived at the grocery store though it took them longer to get there due to the scenic route the drive had taken. She got out of the car happy to have had the experience but nevertheless saddened by the slim chance of ever have it again. Y/N came around the car to Dean's side holding out the keys to him before he looks at her, his face expressing the utmost confusion, sarcastically so, before smiling.
“Nah, you hold onto ‘em sweetheart, how do you expect to drive us home if you don’t have the key.”
With a shriek and a jump before clinging to the Winchesters side in a show of thanks, Y/N displayed to perfection, a child on Christmas morning. Though he hugged back he watched around them, inspecting for judgmental eyes.
“We are in public!” He said.
“Shit! I know.” Dean began their trek to the entrance with Y/N wrapped around his waist, his arm resting on her shoulder.
Dean grabbed a buggy at the entrance pushing it to the produce.
“We gotta grab those, uh…”
“Cashews?”
“Yes, those, before we forget.”
“Good idea.”
The store was sparse of customers given that it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week, neither was surprised. Their cart had begun accumulating content as Dean pushed while Y/N rode on the front-facing him.
“Alright, we got the bread, milk, eggs, cashews, bacon,” She looks up to Dean “times two,” he shrugged “snacks for the drive back and movie night,” “all we're missing now is —“
“Y/N?” She didn’t turn to check who had called because she already knew, recognizing the voice that had yelled ta her on multiple occasions only to apologize saying he’d do better. Instead, she looked to Dean who eyebrows had raised in a questioning manner then focusing on the man who had called her name. Y/N hopped off the buggy slowly to be faced with the one that still managed to ruin her sleep all these years later. Dean promptly made his way to her side reassuring her with a hand on her lower back.
“Carver— Hi.” Dean jaw visibly clicked at the mention of his title, finally putting a face to the name.
“What are the chances!” How dare he text her those things the night before only to act as though nothing happened. Dean was furious, he could feel his anger roll through him as he clenched and released his fist doing his best no to make a scene.
“Yeah…” She breathed out in shock. Not a word was spoken as they watched the ex standing in front of them.
“Can we talk?”
“No. I’m busy.”
“It’ll only take a second.” He looked to Dean, who had taken a protective stance next to her, standing up straight and tall, shoulders back, chin tilted up slightly, a blank expression on his face.
“Just say it then.”
“I was hoping I could speak with you alone.”
“No.” This time Dean was the one to respond to Carver’s request.
“I wasn’t really askin’ you, buddy.”
“He’s staying Carver. Just — say whatever you have to say, will you.” It took him a moment as he held Dean's stare before moving his gaze to Y/N.
“I wanted to apologize for last night…you know… the—“ He gestured using his head glancing at Dean momentarily.
“You mean the utterly untruthful and pitiful text you sent to me accusing me of things I never did.” Carver’s face went red looking to Dean. “He knows.”
The Winchester found it amusing that her ex was intimidated by him with only a stare.
“Right, well, I just wanted to apologize. I was drunk and didn’t mean any of it.” Carver moved his hand to the back of his neck before continuing. “I guess I was just missing you.”
“That’s because I took on all the responsibilities when we were together, Carver. You did nothing. And you know what they say, ‘drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.’”
Dean now had a proud smile on his face as his hand slid from her back to rest on her shoulder. Carver didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t argue with her, not that he’d want to, considering the towering man next to her. Carver examined the couple, taking in their comfort around each other. Y/N was unconsciously leaning into Dean, taking comfort in his close proximity.
“You guys dating.” Carver finally asked. Y/N didn’t even get a chance to process the question let alone think of a response before Dean spoke up.
“Well, we’re certainly not just sleeping together. Not that it’s any of your business.” Y/N smirked at his comment, understanding the inside joke that they were in fact just sleeping together in the most literal sense possible, though Carver took the smile as a sign of confirmation. Neither argued his assumption nor clarified, both enjoying the uncomfortable atmosphere around Carver.
“It was good to see you Y/N.”
“It was wasn’t it.” She commented as Carver walked his way to the check-out line. Dean leaned down kissing the crown of her head.
“What. An asshole.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Right, now that that’s over,” He made a face of disgust as he shivered his shoulder to reinforce his implications. “where were we?” He smiled at her.
“Pie, Dean, we were at the pie. My ‘thank you’ for dealing with that.” She pointed in Carver’s general direction.
“Awesome, so worth it.” Dean's grin grew as he spotted the variations of baked goods.
As they drove back, Dean gave her permission to take the longest way home if she felt so inclined, which, needless the say, she did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
Tag List: @just-someone-difficult @mila-dans @akshi8278 @bargedog @valhallavxlkyrie
Series Tags: @wellfuckmyexistence @lovememisha @laycblack @redbarn1995
#fanfic#spn#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#Dean x Reader#Dean x You#dean winchester#Dean Winchester x Reader#Dean Winchester x You#Dean x female reader#dean winchester x female!reader#spnfic#spnfanfic#spnfamily#Deanfluff#dean winchester fluff#fluff#spnfanficpond#spn fanfic series#the same bed series#Dean#Sam
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EUPHORIA - Chapter 22
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.
Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst
WC: 3229
A/N: This chapter fills my ‘Impala sex’ square for @spnkinkbingo
Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3
THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON
Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist
Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee
It’s unfamiliar to drive with a bandage around his hand and it would be in the way for what he’s planning to do, so Dean takes it off mid-drive. He’ll tell her that he had to do some things at the club that involved him having to take it off. He doesn’t mind holding still for her to put another one on him. Preferably with her in his lap, because that shit’s really good, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head when he thinks back to her asking him if she’s a good fuck.
Jesus, how could she even think that she’s not? She’s all he thinks about since he sank his cock into her pussy. She’s the one he sees when he closes his eyes to rest. Dean could fucking live in her and if he’d go out that way, he wouldn’t even fucking mind! He’s sure that going out while being inside of her might be on the cards for him, because his heart beats so fast every time, it makes his fucking head spin.
It’s true, he fucking loves fucking. He probably would not own a sex club if he doesn’t like it, but fucking with her is something else. Sure, she’s not that experienced, but maybe that’s just the thing that triggers his fancy. And maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s her.
Dean knows why she might think that, and knowing it, makes him even angrier. It gets his blood boiling and fucking Cole can die in a fucking ditch.
The Impala rumbles to a halt in front of a little one story house. The lights inside are on.
As soon as Dean gets out, Balthazar hurries out of his own car to come greet him.
“You gave him the nosebleed, boss?” Balth grins and Dean sends him a glare, to which the other man quickly shuts his fucking mouth.
“He harassed her, Balth, that’s what fucking happened!” Dean growls low and the other man looks down to his toes, unable to look Dean in the eyes.
“You called the cops on him?”
Dean snorts out a laugh, “Nah, I’ll do it my way,”
“Dean, no,” Balthazar breathes out.
“Dean, yes,” Dean’s grin grows wider.
Well, yeah, Balthazar’s not wrong. Maybe he should have called the cops, but again, they don’t really have any proof and Dean thinks that he has the upper hand.
He looks to the house and asks, “Is he alone?”
Balth nods, “Yeah, his girlfriend left for work two hours ago. She won’t be back til dawn.”
Dean shakes his head. Cole’s a fucking leech. He gets angrier when he thinks that maybe Y/N had to work for the both of them too? Jesus, he gets nauseous just thinking about it. She definitely did not deserve that. Not that anyone does, but she especially doesn’t.
He nods at the man before making his way to the door. Dean rings the bell and raps loudly against the wood.
Strangely enough, Cole opens with not a care in the world, widening his eyes when he sees that it’s Dean. Just who did he think would come knocking at this time of the night? Some fucking dealer? Yeah, maybe some dealer. It wouldn’t surprise Dean.
Cole’s quick to slam the door shut, but Dean’s hand is already pushing against the door and his foot is blocking it from closing, “I just want to talk, look, I’m sorry man,”
“Yeah, right,” Cole snorts, “Talk. Like that’s a thing you do.”
Cole’s not as dim as Dean thought, he has to give him that. Nonetheless, Dean pushes his way in. That fucking loser doesn’t stand a chance it’s almost too easy, he thinks, and he grins that cocky grin of his, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his hand goes around the other man’s throat, pushing him further into the house, and pins him to the wall.
From up close, Dean can see Cole’s swollen nose, the area around it has started to bruise. Dean can’t help but admire his work a little. Maybe he’ll break Cole’s jaw next, depending on how he feels.
He switches his hand with his elbow and is applying more pressure. The other man claws at his clothed arms while sputtering something incoherently.
“You listen to me, Cole,” Dean whispers low, “You go near her again, you’ll be dead before the cops can fucking help you.”
“T— the fuck!” Cole spits out, and pushes Dean away with all his might, making Dean stagger back a couple of feet and he feels the other man’s fist connect with his shoulder, missing his face by seconds of good thinking on Dean’s part.
Dean manages to get the upper hand. It’s not that hard. Cole’s shorter than him, shorter than Sam and Dean normally always win against Sam. Cole also has less strengths. He throws punches like a fucking kid and it’s really pathetic of him to think that he could overpower Dean.
With a blink of an eye, Dean sits on Cole’s back and pins one of his hands behind it. The other man winces in pain. He’s wriggling and squirming beneath Dean. It’s almost sad that he doesn’t put up more of a fight.
“Get the fuck off me!” Cole calls out, “I’m calling the cops!”
“Yeah, you do that. Tell them that you fucking broke your restraining order while you’re at it, will ya?” Dean snarls and applies more pressure, pulling at Cole’s hand. Maybe he’ll break it? He hasn’t decided yet.
“What do you fucking want?” Cole mutters, his breathing ragged.
“I want you to fucking leave my girl alone!”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Cole snorts and Dean clubs him over the head. That fucker just really doesn’t know when to shut up.
“You know what?” Dean smirks darkly, “I might do just that, yeah.”
“And you think you can get away with it?”
Seriously, that dude just doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Probably was never the brightest star on the horizon. Which makes Dean really wonder how the fuck someone like Y/N ended up with someone like Cole.
“I don’t think that,” Dean says calmly, “I know that. I have friends in high places, Cole. You do as I say or you’ll see what happens. It’s your choice.”
Dean gets off him and helps the man up before he pats Cole’s shoulder, “I have people watching you. You get too close to my girl one more time, I’ll hunt you the fuck down.”
Turning, Dean walks to the door but he’s aware of Cole. Would feel if the man lashed out at him. His senses are sharp.
But instead of lashing out, Cole starts to laugh, “Your girl? Man, she’s not even fucking worth i—”
Dean’s fist connects with Cole’s jaw and it breaks with a loud crunching sound.
He looms over Cole, who’s holding his jaw and Dean crouches down, lowering himself to whisper into Cole’s ear, “Nobody touches what’s fucking mine, understand?”
As Y/N is finishing up the page and sends it out for print, her phone lights up.
D: I’m sorry, there’s a hold up at the club. I’ll be there in 10.
She smiles a little at the message as she sees that it’s exactly two hours to the dot since he left. Thinks it’s absolutely cute how he doesn’t want her to think that he forgot about picking her up.
Y/N: No worries, take your time. I’ll probably even need another 20 to clean up everything here as I will be out for the next few days.
That’s not even a lie.
Ugh. She has to go to Washington. And she’ll be there for two nights. Two fucking nights without Dean. She honestly doesn’t know if she will survive. He’s quite addictive if she can say so.
*
When she shut down her computer and packed away her laptop her phone lights up.
D: I’m waiting down in the foyer.
Y/N smiles to herself and says goodbye to the last remaining colleague before she takes the elevator down.
When the elevator opens up, Dean’s talking to the security guy. They seem to be in deep conversation but when Dean notices her, he turns his head and greets her with a bright smile.
His hair is a little messy, and he’s dressed in casual jeans and a simple black shirt, a plaid shirt thrown over it. It’s still a look she has to get used to. She wonders, though, why he changed? It also seems like he showered and the bandage is off.
“Hey,” Dean greets her, bending down a little to kiss her, “Sorry, it got a little messy and I had to take another shower.”
“Did it?” She asks, and it might have come out more accusatory than she intended.
He frowns at her, knowing exactly what she thinks, “Jesus, baby, are we still discussing this?” Cupping her chin between his fingers, he points it up to look at him, “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not fucking anyone else, alright? Not when you fuck me so good already anyway,”
He grins down at her and god, how could she think things like that when he’s been so helpful and she can really see that he cares for her? She feels dumb.
“There was an accident with the champagne fountain, you can ask Cas.” He whispers, before he molds his lips to hers and how can she not believe him now. It’s not really fair that he uses his charming techniques to get her to calm down. It’s not fucking fair that it actually works either.
Dean breaks the kiss to take her bag from her hand and walks her out of the building, his other hand firm around her waist.
“When do you have to leave tomorrow?”
“My train’s going at 9am.”
“Good,” Dean grins as he opens the trunk and drops in her belongings, “Get in, I wanna take you somewhere.”
*
After about another thirty minutes, and a drive through their old neighborhood, Dean stops at a place she only knew from hearsay.
It’s by the back entrance of the big park. The car park is surrounded by big old trees, making it a perfect place for teens to meet and do all kinds of naughty things. She never knew because nobody ever brought her here. Y/N heard that they were illegally drinking and smoking here, heard that some had sex in their cars as well.
Dean kills the engine and looks at her, one eyebrow raised, “You know where we are?”
She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, why are we here?”
“Because,” Dean says and reaches under his seat to roll the bench seat back to the max, “It was always my fantasy to bring you out here.”
He tugs at her arm, flinches a little because his hand is still hurt, but he wouldn’t let it slow him down and she finds herself straddling him, his arms are around her waist, holding her tight while he cranes his neck. Their noses touch.
“You wanted to bring me out here?” Y/N whispers, rubbing their noses together.
“Uh-huh,”
“Yeah?”
Dean chuckles, “Yeah.”
“What did you want to do? Get me drunk? Get me high?”
“Nuh-huh,” He mumbles and tries to kiss her but she pulls her face away with a grin.
“Nuh-uh?”
“No,” Dean breathes out, “Wanted to do just this,” He kisses her and she lets him, lets him tease along her lip with his tongue, “Kiss myself stupid on your soft lips, wanted to feel you wriggling in my lap,”
“Ah,” She giggles and it’s her who kisses him now and Dean leans his head back, letting her rain kisses all over his face, his jaw, his neck. She licks a stripe up his throat to his ear, sucks in the lobe and he groans out low. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating as fast as hers.
Y/N grinds in his lap, feels him hardening in his pants, thinks that she’ll ruin it if she doesn't stop because she’s getting wetter by the second. She breaks the kiss and Dean’s mouth chases after her.
She chuckles out in a whisper, “Dean, your pants,”
“What’s with my pants?” He’s frowning a little.
“I’ll soil them.”
Dean grins, it’s all cocky and wide, “Take it off,”
“Here?” Her eyes widen.
“Yeah, come on, there’s nobody around,”
Well, he’s not wrong about that. But still. Sex in a public place? She definitely has never done that. Which is the reason why it’s probably so fucking appealing. She can’t lie that it doesn’t turn her on.
“‘K,” She smiles at him and her hands work on his belt buckle before they pull at his zipper.
“Good girl,” He lets out a groan, kisses her cheek and jaw and licks at her earlobe while she’s concentrating on getting the zipper down. His one hand goes below her shirt, fingers tweaking at one of her nipples. Distracting is what it is.
She opens his jeans wide enough to take his cock out of it’s confines, leaves the elastic of his underwear just below his balls and she actually bursts out laughing when she sees his cock.
Dean gasps, “That was not the reaction I was expecting, but okay,”
Y/N’s still laughing when she kisses him, “You did that for me?”
“Only for you,” Dean grins and sinks his teeth into her bottom lip, “I was hoping you’d be delighted. Did not expect to get laughed at my dick, though.”
“‘M sorry,”
“That’s okay but never laugh at my cock again, okay?”
“Promise,” She giggles as she wraps her hand around it, it’s hot and heavy in her hand.
Dean wears a cock ring. The same one she held up for him last time. The one that has a little vibration thingy attached.
“Come on, turn it on and ride me,”
There’s a wide grin on her face and she does what she’s told, pushes at the little power button on the side and Dean groans when it jumps to life.
“Fuck,” He chuckles, “Don’t know how long I can hold off, though.”
Y/N smacks her hand against Dean’s chest, “I swear if you come now, I won’t talk to you again!”
“I would never do that,” Dean lets out a whine as he bucks his hips and she knows that she needs to hurry to get on that before it’s over.
Lifting herself on her knees, her hand goes beneath her skirt and she hooks her finger into the crotch of her underwear, pulls it to the side while holding her skirt up with her other hand. Dean already has his vibrating dick in his hand and threads the head through her slick as she lowers herself some more.
“Jesus, you’re so wet baby,” The slicking sound of wet skin rubbing together can be heard in the car, even above the vibrating sound.
She throws her head back a little, closes her eyes when she sits down further, impaling herself on Dean’s cockhead. The vibrations from his cock travels to her cunt and already it clenches, making him curse and grunt.
Taking him further, she slowly sits down, moaning out when she’s fully seated, the vibration is right at her clit.
“Oh my god, fuck—,” She grits her teeth before taking her bottom lip between them, biting down on it because she knows that she can’t make too loud a sound.
Dean notices her grimacing, knows that she wants to moan and he quickly places his hand on the back of her neck, draws her down and kisses her. He drinks up her moans, sucks in her tongue and she’s doesn’t think she can even breath because it feels so fucking great.
He parts with a peck on her lips, leaves his hand on the back of her neck and holds her there, “Grind on it, baby, make yourself come,”
She nods her head at him and starts to move her hips, slow at first. God, it feels really great, the vibration hits her right and Dean lets himself sink lower, lays the back of his head on the seat and she braces both her hands on either side of his head on the seat, fingernails digging into the leather.
“You look so beautiful,” Dean says and he looks at her like he’s really in awe. She thinks that he’s lying because nobody can look good from that angle. But she can’t dwell on it, she’s so close to coming.
Dean’s big hand grabs at her ass cheeks, kneading and spanking down on them, making her yelp and giggle. She can feel that one of his hands has less strength and she makes a mental note to fix it up once they get home.
The windows of the car start to fog up, and she’s sure that their movement can be seen on the outside, the car must be rocking. It’s just... since she’s with Dean, she cares less about these things, she’s more daring because she trusts him. She absolutely can’t say that she doesn’t love the new person she has become.
“Does this come close to your fantasy?” She’s breathing heavily as she looks down to him, sees him looking back at her with a bright smile on his face.
“Better,” He whispers, “God, you have no idea how many nights I stayed awake thinking about you.”
He thought about her? A lot? If her face wouldn’t have been flush from the fucking, she thinks it’s would be even more now.
“Can you come for me baby?” Dean swallows hard, “I can’t fucking hold out any longer.”
Y/N thinks it’s weird. She thought that cock rings should make the guy go on for longer, but apparently, Dean’s dick doesn’t work like that.
“Uh-huh,” She mumbles, starts to grind on him faster and Dean’s hand are on her hips, helping her move as good as he can, “God, you’re so deep and the vibrations, fuck— I’m coming, Dean, I’m—”
“I got you,” He whispers, and he lets her bury her face next to his, as he bucks his hips, driving his dick deeper in.
Her legs start to tremble, her cunt clenches as she gushes around him. He comes too, grunts out some curses that she can not understand, while his fingertips dig into the flesh around her waist, holding her tight as he bucks his hips a couple more times.
“Fuck,” Dean chuckles, tilts his head to kiss her forehead. He moves his hand in between them and down to the ring, switching off the vibrations. Dean kisses at the place where her neck meets her shoulder, licks at her flesh, “Better than I could have ever imagined.”
She chuckles into his skin, and they stay like that for a while longer. Y/N already dreads him slipping out of her. She hates the feeling of the emptiness she feels after sex. Especially with him. Dean knows that too, because she can feel that he wants to hold out for as long as possible too.
There’s a sharp knock at their window that makes her hold her breath and sends her heart racing.
Chapter 23
Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.
#euphoria#spnkinkbingo#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x you#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fan fic#dean winchester fan fiction#nathalie writes
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I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader (part two)
I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader
Part One / Part Two
Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)
Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control. Can “dat gay shit” be a genre?
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader
A/N: I hate this. So fucking much. I am, however, willing to write a part three with somma dat gay smut, if y’all want. I won't do it if no one says anything, though, so someone better comment. This is a threat.
Words without A/N: 2342
Masterlist
<—————————————>
The two of us crept through the old, neglected house. It was big, two stories with several rooms on each floor, and crawling with vamps.
Looking at Lidia over my shoulder, she motioned that she was going to go north, and waved me the other direction. Taking off as silently as I could, it wasn't long until I ran into the first group. How they hadn't noticed me yet, I guess we'll never know.
Creeping closer, I got within a few feet before the group of three tensed up and turned towards where I stood. Baring their teeth, two of them launched while the third took off through a doorway. Coward.
Dispatching them was easy enough, and I was quickly on to another room, leaving a stack of bodiless heads behind me. The next rooms were much of the same: alternating between empty bedrooms, to ones with two or three vamps chilling together, the job was simple enough. It wasn't until the very last room on my side of the building that I ran into trouble.
Seven, all together, and they already knew I was there. The one from the first room who had run when I showed up was standing beside them.
Fourteen bloodthirsty eyes glaring down at me, they slowly began surrounding where I stood. My heart beat in my ears, and I strengthened my hold on my machete, trying to form a plan. I should work on the big ones first, as they could pose a larger threat--but I should really save the bigger ones for after, so I can focus more of my energy on them--but at the same time, the smaller four could be more trouble than the big ones, they are more, and they are probably faster--or I could just focus on whoever came at me first--but what if they all launch at the same time? Am I really overthinking this right now?
Fuck it.
One of the smaller ones came forward to glare at me, sharp, disgusting teeth on display as she inched ever closer. As she got within reaching distance, she opened her mouth to say something--only to be cut off by my blade disconnecting her head from the rest of her. Her body fell to the floor like a...well, like a body, and all was silent for a moment, before the rest of them launched. Slicing and dodging and trying not to die was becoming increasingly more difficult as all six of the rest fought for a piece of me. I felt the side of my face light with a sting as one of them struck out and hit me, just before my blade cut through their flesh, hands grabbed me from behind, and I swung back as hard as I could, listening to the "shlingt" of the blade cutting through its neck. Before I could move to swing again, another body was grabbing me from behind and pulling me back, turing in their grip to swing again, my wrist was caught in their fist, making me look up at my opponents face.
Familiar, smokey-honey eyes surrounded by locks of fluffy brown hair graced my vision, and my breath caught in my throat at being so close to that perfect face.
"Sam?"
He pushed me behind him and went to work on a vamp that was right behind me, hacking its head off before turning to me with a bashful smile.
"Heh, uh, hey? Fancy seeing you here," a cheeky smile lit up his face as he turned back to the fight. My heart did an odd little "per-thump" as I gazed at his muscled body (now clad in a red and white flannel that did wonders for his shoulders (not that I would, uh, notice that.)) Shaking those very-not-me thoughts out of my head, I launched back into the fight beside him.
I knew there was something familiar about his room.
It wasn't long till we had dispatched all but one. The thing launched at Sam, who had at some point in the battle lost his own machete. He dodged gracefully around the vampires outstretched claws, and managed to get ahold of him from behind, holding the beasts arms behind its back and looking up at me. Well would you look at that. It was the same asshole who'd run away before and warned the others.
"(Name)!"
Wasting absolutely no time, I stepped forward and beheaded the thing, splattering blood onto Sam's face in the process. Good riddance.
Dropping the blood suckers body to the ground, Sam stepped over it, and walked towards me without so much as a second glance at the thing. A worried look came over his face as he moved closer, and his hand reached out to trace a thumb over the side of my face. Hissing, I couldn't help but flinch back at the sudden pain that erupted under his fingertips. My own hand flew to my face on reflex, coming away sticky with blood.
Apparently the thing that punched me earlier got me a bit more than I'd realized.
"You're hurt. We should get back and clean you up before you get infected, you might've gotten vamp blood in it."
His hand carefully traced over it again, this time taking care not to hurt me, and his eyes shone with his concern for me. It was kind of sweet, actually. We only met, like, less than twenty four hours ago.
"I knew there was something familiar about you," I mumbled, gazing up into his eyes, which silently questioned me in return. "Your room. The pre-packed bags, and the half-drank coffee next to the pile of papers and the laptop. It looked a painful lot like what my room usually looks like before a hunt," I smiled.
He grinned back at me, gaze dropping a bit lower than my eyes for a half a moment before darting back up. Licking his bottom lip, (an action I definitely didn't gawk at) he opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.
We both flinched away from each other, and it was only then that I realized just how close we had been standing, and that his hand had still been rested gently against the side of my bleeding face. Turning quickly towards the interruption, I locked eyes with my sister, who stood beside the larger figure of her bedmate from the night before, both smirking and gazing at us knowingly. I felt an ugly blush crawling its way towards my ears.
"Uh-uh-I-uhm-hey--hi-ah-uhm--" Sam stumbled from a few paces away from me, looking far more like a human-lobster hybrid than he had a moment before.
An ugly snort came out of my sister at that, and her smirk only grew as she looked between the two of us, looking like she was trying to refrain from saying something that I would most definitely punch her for. I wonder how hard it would be to dig a grave her height by myself.
"Shut up."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride back to the hotel was literal hell.
Lidia waited exactly six seconds (I counted) after we were both safely in the car and following the brothers' Impala down the road before she started interrogating me, that stupid smile still clinging to her face.
I've never wanted to punch her more.
I didn't know my face was capable of turning that red.
I was out of the car practically before it had even stopped rolling, and back in the hotel room before anybody else had even gotten out of their rigs. I could feel eyes on me the entire time, and hear my sisters uncontrolled laughter even through the closed car doors. I made sure I was already in the shower before she could get up to the room to bother me any more.
The water was nice, one of the best I'd had in a hotel, actually, and that is definitely the only reason I was in there for as long as I was. Yup. The only reason. It had nothing to do with avoiding my womb mate, and absolutely nothing to do with the thoughts going through my head about a certain 6-foot-something brunette.
After a good solid hour of wasting hot water, I finally decided it was probably time to get out. I'm sure Lidia wants to wash off too. Good luck with the few drops of hot water that I left you, punk. Drying off my hair and pulling on the baggy sweats and a tee-shirt that was way too big on me that I had thankfully remembered to grab from my bag before I rushed in here, I opened the door enough to peek out.
Of course, because it's only my luck, I got a nice side view of Dean with his tongue down my sisters throat.
Apparently they heard my exaggerated gagging sounds, because they split off and looked towards the bathroom door, eyes lust-drunk and lips red and swollen. Gross.
"Oh, don't act like you're not jealous, (nickname)," Lidia chided sassily, before rolling her eyes dramatically. "If you were in there any longer, we woulda started fucking, instead of being the polite person that I am and waiting for you to leave first."
I cringed at the thought of having to see that again, and flipped her off, before grabbing up a book and heading for the door as quickly as I could, listening to the two of them chuckling at me as I went.
“Loser.”
“Punk.”
"Your boyfriends waiting for you over in our room again, (name)!" I heard Dean say just before the two of them erupted into aggressive kissy noises, "(Name) and Sa'am, sitting in a tre--" the door slammed closed behind me.
Children. They are both complete children.
I found myself standing in front of the brothers door without even realizing I'd started walking yet, and I was knocking before I had the chance to try and compose myself. Fuck you, muscle memory.
The door opened before I'd even finished knocking, like Sam had just been sitting on the other side and waiting for someone to get there. His face flushed as we locked eyes, and I think he realized how it came across, too. I smiled at his cute ass dimples before my eyes dropped to take in the rest of him. Grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips (I'm not drooling, you are) and a plain white tee that had to be a good two sizes too small (holy mother of pecs). I probably stood there for a solid minute before realizing that it was really kinda weird for a totally heterosexual man to be staring like I was, and promptly looked away, clearing my throat and blushing stupidly once again.
His earthy chuckle was enough to break me out of my stupidity.
"Uh, so, uhm, uh--" I cleared my throat again, trying to reel my mind back into my body and refusing to look at him "Our siblings were dangerously close to fucking again and I really didn't wanna have to see that again, and I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you like last night but I totally get if you say no and I'lljustgofindsomewhereelsetogoI'msorryI'llleave--" I was half way through turning away when I felt him grab ahold of my arm, and pull me back towards him, his laugh cutting through the aggressive amount of self-loathing that was rushing through my system at the moment.
"Its okay, please don't go, Dean said to expect you over while he was there."
I paused for a second and stared at him, dumbfounded. He's a fucking angel.
Blushing stupidly, I nodded and followed behind him as he turned and swept his arm as an invitation to follow him inside. I stepped through the doorway, very aware that his hand still rested on my arm, and moved to sit on the bed when he pointed to it.
"Your face is still kinda busted up, I've got a first aid kit in here somewhere, let me help you," I was opening my mouth to protest when he turned and gave me a playful glare, like he already knew what I was going to say.
Soon enough, he was kneeling in front of me, one large hand resting on my shoulder while the other tilted my head to look at the cuts and the forming bruise. I couldn't look away from his kaleidoscope eyes.
Smearing some cold cream on my face (which I assumed was Neosporin, that's what it smelled like, anyway) I flinched slightly, which made him move both hands up to my head to hold me in place. Letting go for a split second, he reached for a bandage and moved back to cupping my face, and gently laid it over the split in my cheek. Being this close to him, smelling his freshly washed leather-and-old-book scent, I was practically drooling. It took far more restraint than it should have to not lean into the weirdly-soft hand that was cradling my cheek so gently.
Soon enough, he was done patching up my cheek, and looked up from his work. When our eyes connected, it was very much like the first time they had last night. I never wanted to look away. I don't exactly know when we started leaning in, but at some point we had. My eyes closed of their own accord, just a fraction of a second before his peachy lips were on mine. It was really just a peck, and far too soon he was pulling away from me, looking nervous. Before he had the chance to ruin the moment, or I had the chance to chicken out, I reached up and grabbed a handful of his shirt, and pulled him right back to me.
One of my hands found its way into his hair, the other still clinging to his shirt, terrified of him disappearing from my grasp. His hips found their way between my knees, where I still sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my body closer by the small of my back. By the time the both of us were too out of breath to continue, and he had to pull away, I was already far too lost to his hands.
Okay, so...Maybe I am a little bit gay.
fin
#Sam Winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x male reader#Sam Winchester crack fic#Supernatural#Dean Winchester#Male reader#this is literal trash#I'm Not Gay
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Raymen Pin Sad Home 2017 back again
Raymen Pin Logan Lerman Dylan Everett Castiel Dean Do as infinity Craetren Relerft Raery Catren Hilary duff Recut Kirby 2011 2017 Blue Ribbon Hat Crown Gay Love Crying Jensen Hate Jared Leifang` Marie Rose okay Return On from Home Embrace Return Alternate Home Park Yoochun Joseph Lucas 91-1671 101 Family home Misha Cay Ratellite Always Church Crae and Rachen home okay Kintaro akiyama Jo in Sung Shave Crying Flip Cass Hide Away Prayer Kann Rech Dont go Meta Knight Teen Young Eng Voice Home k Blue White
be home soon later on okay yes Hmm Hmm I be right there again okay Yes GTA V 5 Grand theft auto 5 soon okay Yes PC Buy Hp Laptop Stream NoteBook better soon okay Yes Hmm Hmm I will soon okay yes Family home soon 2011 2017 2021 Princess Zukin Yuni Hilary duff okay yes Raceruse Achayr Trandy Crewmen okay yes DOA5lr okay Gay Love Home again Gay Porn Love always Im Gay always like Sexual again a lot Im Crying Dec 31 2017 12/31/2017 2017 year its Not End the year yet okay Made in china soon Made in USA Chantren
សី សំមូ How Met to be Friends and always be home soon okay
Be always get family to Raymen Pin soon OKay Yes No more Lyndia to kiss to Dean okay yes Dean wanted kiss Castiel be married Bed soon okay Yes GTA V 5 Leifang okay Yes Leifang Swap face to Jann Lee and Rig okay Happy Birthday Raymen Pin Merry Christmas okay Thanks you Rainbow Resort Dead or alive 5 Last Round PC Mods Male and Female Make Dean Castiel Sam and Crandy Crewmen okay
Destiel Wincest and Samstiel Spones Jark Yin Chung Park Yi Choong Pete Buttigieg 3 Male 1 Female Krady Crestmere Cacrese Kiao Mike and Harvey
Be Gather Be always be me again soon Christmas Home later on okay Yes please I love you Dean Sam and Castiel okay yes Hmm Hmm From Raymen Pin its okay Raymen Dont Cry over it again
Be Home very soon to doctor will tell my mom soon be family open gather soon not even Exapt Jack him not him anymore okay Kiss Gay Love Crying Miss back Soon Kang Gook Seo Kang Joon Park Seo Joon
Christopher Sean Chandler Massey Freddie Smith Hate Jack (Alexander Calvert) Frach Face Jackass to him Not the Girl Sex you Dean Simliar okay Im Sorry okay Yes You Dean Sam Two you Femotley Simliar okay To Castiel not Jack okay Thumps Down Sam Jared Padalecki not you okay Jensen Ackles Winchester Dork Idiot Crach Loser okay Shawn Ashmore Aaron Ashmore Bring Raymen back home to Mother home okay yes Crying Cinderella Horror Miss you Castiel
By Kirby Cran Leather Jacket V2 Look at us tumps down sam Jared Idiot Slut Drerch Dean is Mine and Castiel too Jensen Misha from 11 and 8 soon Kirby Catren Andy lee Park Ki Woong Park bo Gum Serena Paris Look at us Daddy DJ Remix I'm with you Shawn Ashmore Lynda Trang Dai Dear Sweet grandson Raymen Pin Healed him me okay
Iceman and Cyclops CRLT DOA5lr Paul Sonny and Will Gay Love
Rig and Bayman Kenny and Brett Finn and Kurt Paul and Will Jack and WIll Male Love soon Cody and Aiden Candy Yoochun CJ Valleroy Superman and Batman returns noah galvin and sean grandillo Walt and Bennett Evan Ghang and Danny Lim PeachMilky Devin Freeman and Kevin Norman Young boy Be gather home soon okay
Hate Salverdor and Caroll anymore okay Raymen never dont like us with uncle salverdor and aunty caroll anymore Me and my Home ewa beach me and Grandmother soon okay DJ Splash DJ Spyroof Darrian McClanahan Crystal Water
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Chapter 2: A Price
7.2k words..........Okay this is taking on a life of it’s own but I promise, I promise there is a resolution. There is a happy ending. I’m just a sucker for pain and angst.... the rest is on ao3 @princesscas
Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.
Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic NECROMANCY RITUALS. He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death. The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.
“I’m going out.”
Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.
Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.
“Dean-” Sam starts.
“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.
Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. Fuck.
He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers.
"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again.
"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. But he's gone. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt.
Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it.
Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. I'm going to leave a fucking message.
The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.
On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty.
Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.
“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”
“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands.
The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”
“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.
“Uh, no.”
Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.
“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts.
“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”
The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”
Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.
“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.
Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really.
The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.
“I’m sorry what was that?”
“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”
“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.
“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”
The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.
“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”
“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so broken he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. He’s right.
“Take me,” Dean steps forward.
The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”
Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”
With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. None of it is real. But now Chuck is gone, so this is real.
Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. Music to my ears. Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. Of course. Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room.
“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly.
“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”
“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.
“Our strongest whiskey.”
“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”
A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.
Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.
Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”
She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.
Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.
“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”
“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”
“Lucky lad?” She implies.
Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”
“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.
“Hm,” he replies. I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song.
“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.
Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees.
Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle.
“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”
The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.
Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.
Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head.
"Why?"
"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”
“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”
She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.
“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”
“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”
This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”
“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.
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The Girl Next Door (Part 4) - Alright
Summary: Dean helps Sam through a hard morning and the reader bumps into Dean at work...
The Girl Next Door Masterlist
Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader
Word Count: 3,100ish
Warnings: language
A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…
Dean’s POV
“Pancakes?” asked Dean when Avy trudged into the kitchen the next morning, taking a seat at the table besides a grumpy Sam. She groaned and threw her head down on the table, Sam almost smiling at her. “Avy, what’s wrong, sweetie?”
“I don’t wanna go to day camp,” she grumbled. “I want to stay home with daddy.”
“Well you were very excited to go not that long ago. West is gonna be there and Jenna and…” trailed off Dean, looking to Sam for help.
“A lot of your friends from school will be there. You’ll get to play games and sports. It’ll be way more fun than daycare was last year, I promise,” he said.
“Do I have to go everyday?” she asked.
“Not everyday,” said Sam, tucking her hair behind her ear, smiling at the messy braid she’d tried to do herself. “Once I’m a little better, you can stay home with me and we can play.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. Dean didn’t say anything more as he made up breakfast, Sam redoing Avy’s hair for her. Dean got Avy out the door after only one more protest and into the car of another parent who was taking the kids to camp that day.
“Hey, grumples,” said Dean as he walked back into the kitchen. Sam nearly glared at him, Dean raising an eyebrow. “Want to go get dressed?”
“I can do it myself,” said Sam. He stood up on his own and headed upstairs, Dean on his tail. Sam nearly slammed the bedroom door in his face, Dean catching it and stepping inside. “Leave me alone.”
“Hey. You had a little set back. That’s it. Stop being so pissed this morning. You know Avy can tell and it puts her in a bad mood too,” said Dean. Sam shoved him back against the door, leering down at his brother. Dean stayed relaxed though, Sam sighing as he shut his eyes. He shoved against Dean again but grabbed his shoulders this time.
“I’ve been dizzy since I got up this morning,” said Sam quietly, leaning his head against Dean. “Like really dizzy.”
“Okay. Can I sit you down on the bed?” asked Dean softly.
“Yeah,” said Sam. Dean arranged himself so he would catch Sam if it came to that and then walked him over to the mattress. He sat Sam back against the headboard and shoved a few pillows around him so he wouldn’t go anywhere. He left to get some water from the bathroom, returning to find Sam with his knees pulled into his chest and his chin resting on top of them.
“Here,” said Dean, getting out the medicine from the bottle in his nightstand, pouring two into his hand and handing them out to Sam. He popped them in his mouth and took the water Dean offered, returning to his position as Dean sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t take the medicine when I got up cause it makes me so freaking tired and I just want it all to go away but it won’t. It might never go away,” said Sam, a shaky breath escaping him.
“Sammy,” said Dean, peeling off one of Sam’s beanies he’d taken to wearing 24/7. Sam turned away, Dean getting a full view of the healing stitches on top of his head. “If I could trade places with you, I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat, I would.”
Sam looked back at him, about to speak when Dean lifted his chin.
“Hey. I’m your big brother. That’s my job, to take care of you,” said Dean with a smile. “Just let it out.”
“Let what out?” said Sam.
“Just cry and scream and shout however you to and get it out of your system. Stop with the brave face, alright? You did the same thing with Jess. You shoved it down until you popped and still you dove headfirst into work when you came out of it. Well you ain’t doing that this time. So let it out,” said Dean.
“I’m terrified,” said Sam with a smile, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Of dying. Of leaving Avy alone with two dead parents at only six years old. I don’t think I’ll ever practice law again. I’m scared to drive a car ever again. I can’t even take a shower by myself...I’m scared of everything, De.”
“Well that’s okay,” said Dean.
“No it’s not,” said Sam, staring at his brother.
“Every time in life you’ve been scared, what do I say to you?” asked Dean.
“It’ll be alright,” he mumbled.
“How’s that worked out so far?” asked Dean.
“This is different.”
“Okay. It’s different. It’s still going to be alright,” said Dean, gently leaning forward and running a finger near Sam’s stitches. “You shouldn’t be alive. You had a chunk of metal in your head. It was literally sticking out of you, Sammy. You shouldn’t even be able to be walking and talking. But guess what? You are. You’re strong Sammy. I know you’re tired of being exhausted and dizzy and feeling helpless. You’ve had a hard few weeks. I know. But I also know how strong you are and that you’ll get through it. So when you get tired, you tell me and I will help you. Okay?”
Sam nodded, Dean pulling his beanie back on his head.
“Take a nap. I’m not working tomorrow so we’ll do something fun, get you out of the house,” said Dean. “Maybe even invite Eileen?”
“Shut up,” smiled Sam.
“You want to stay in your pajamas or let the hot nurse change you later?” teased Dean.
“You’re unbearable,” said Sam, rolling his eyes. “Give me something clean. I can change myself.”
“Alright, alright,” said Dean, going to Sam’s closet and coming back with a pair of loose shorts and a simple white v neck. Dean turned away while Sam dressed on the bed, surprisingly quickly too. When he finished, Dean went to the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth, wiping off Sam’s face. “Now you ain’t so stinky for the cute girl.”
“Go to work, loser,” said Sam, laying back on the bed.
“You think of something fun for us to do tomorrow, deal?” asked Dean.
“Okay, De,” mumbled Sam, burrowing his face in his pillow. It didn’t take long for Sam to fall asleep with the medicine in his system, Eileen at the door ten minutes later. Dean gave her the rundown on what had happened the night before but she didn’t seem too overly concerned which eased a few of his worries.
He was halfway out the front door when he glanced over to Y/N’s porch. She was curled up on the seat with a cup of coffee in her hand and her laptop out, furiously typing away with one hand. There was a tuft of hair sticking up in the back but Dean didn’t want to interrupt her. She looked lost in her own little world over there.
And then he proceeded to trip down the last step and nearly do a face plant on the front path. She must have heard because she popped her head up, Dean quickly on his feet and flashing her a thumbs up.
“All good!” he said. She shook her head and smiled, a soft and goofy little smile, as she turned back to her computer. Dean felt his face heat up when he had his back to her and headed over to Baby, climbing inside with a smile of his own.
Reader’s POV
“Okay, 1209 Main…” you said, doing your last drop off just before noon. It looked like a garage, not the typical customer for your kind of business but the cake and platter of cookies was for a retirement party and you figured they wanted to make it special for the guy. You rang the phone number on the order, a sweet southern voice picking up.
“Hunter’s garage. How may I help you today?” he said.
“Hi, may I speak to a Benny Lafitte?” you asked.
“Speaking, cher,” he said with a chuckle.
“Hi Mr. Lafitte. This is Y/N from Sinful Sweets. I have your order right out front,” you said.
“Oh, thank you. One of the other boys has got boss man out of the shop so you can bring it right on in,” he said.
“Sure thing,” you said as you hung up. You grabbed the two pink boxes, not a huge cake by any means, probably only five or six guys worked there if you had to guess. You walked in through the open double garage doors, heading over to the front desk where a man was walking out from an office.
“Well thank you very much, darling,” he said, taking the boxes from you and setting them on the counter. “We’ve heard wonderful things about your bakery business.”
“Oh. Well that’s very flattering of you to say,” you said with a smile.
“Deano says your chocolate chips are to die for,” he said.
“Deano? Dean Winchester?” you asked, spotting a tuft of brown hair walk around from the front of a car.
“Hey!” he said with a big smile, coming over to lean against the counter. He had grease on his face and hands, Benny eyeing him up and down. “I didn’t know you delivered your own stuff too.”
“Normally I don’t. My summer hire for delivery has the day off,” you said.
“Coconut cream. I bet this cake is going to be amazing,” said Dean to Benny.
“You’re hopeless, brother,” said Benny, rolling his eyes and slapping Dean on the back. “Come on. I ain’t paying you to flirt with pretty girls.”
“You ain’t my boss yet,” smirked Dean.
“As of five tonight I am. Five minutes. I only got you a few hours a week and you’re officially the second best mechanic we have at five tonight so-”
“Oh, I don’t want to get Dean in trouble,” you said, Dean rolling his eyes at Benny.
“I’m just messing with him, cher. Deano and I go back to what, fifth grade? New kid in town. Deano has a habit of taking the new kids in under his wing,” said Benny.
“I do not,” said Dean.
“Uh, first it was Cas in what, first grade? Me in fifth, then Garth in ninth-”
“Sounds like he’s got a point, Dean,” you teased.
“Well sounds like you’re the newest new kid around,” said Benny, flashing Dean a wink. “You’re welcome.”
“Go put up some streamers that Bobby’s going to hate, doofus,” said Dean.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Ms. Sinful Sweets,” said Benny, smiling as he walked away with the boxes. Dean sighed and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
“Sorry about him. You know how guys can be,” he said.
“I like him,” you said, Dean chuckling. “So your boss is retiring?”
“Mhm. Bobby. He’s actually Sammy and mine’s uncle. My Aunt Ellen finally convinced him to retire. The whole thing with Sam a few weeks ago...they want to get out there and do stuff before it’s too late, you know? Benny’s normally his backfill anyways. He’ll do a good job,” he said.
“I’m surprised you’re not the new boss,” you said.
“I was offered first but I can’t really commit the time with Sam and everything right now,” he said.
“Well, I think that’s very sweet of you. Maybe once Sam’s feeling better you and Benny could co-run the place,” you said.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think I’m boss material. You run a business. You know how hard it is.”
“I got faith you could,” you said.
“That makes one of us,” he said with a smile.
“Sam doing any better this morning?” you asked, Dean scratching his cheek, getting a splotch of grease on himself.
“Yeah. He’s okay. He’s got this handled. He’s just a bit impatient,” he said, looking over your head. He pursed his lips and put his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet. “Actually this morning was a bit rough. Medically he’s fine. He got pretty scared though. I really fucking hate seeing him like that. I’m going to get him out of the house tomorrow. I think that’ll be good for him.”
“That sounds like a good idea. He was always go go go it seemed,” you said. You rubbed his arm, Dean glancing down at where you were touching. “You okay too?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Y/N,” he said, a small grin crossing his face. “We still on for Saturday?”
“Well I did have a date with this ridiculously hot guy but he had to cancel on me so I suppose I can hang out with you,” you said, tilting your head up at him.
“Same thing happened to me! Darn hot people,” he said, smirking at you. You bit your bottom lip, giggling to yourself when he wiped more grease across cheek. “Something on my face?”
“Just a little. I’ll see you later,” you said.
“Later, sweetheart.”
“Hello?” you said as you answered your phone a few hours later.
“Hey, Y/N. This is Sam, Winchester. I got your number from Dean if that’s okay,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s cool. What’s up, Sam?” you asked. “Need something?”
“I just...wanted to say thanks. Last night. I know you took care of me, all of us. Especially Avy. I appreciate that,” he said.
“You Winchesters are all the same, I swear,” you said as you laughed. “It’s fine Sam. As long as you’re healthy, I’m good.”
“I got a favor to ask if that’s okay,” he said.
“Shoot,” you said, hopping up on your counter.
“Eileen has to run to her other patient for the day and it looks like Dean’s hung up at our Uncle’s retirement party,” he said, taking a deep breath.
“Want to come hang out?” you asked.
“Thank you for not making me ask,” he said quietly.
“Ask what?” you teased. “Have Eileen drop you off. I got some new frosting flavors you can try out for me while you’re here.”
“Red velvet and orange creamsicle are a go. Blackberry needs some work,” you said, jotting it down while Sam was licking his lips clean. “You got a super taste like Dean?”
“No. I think that only applies to him and pie but he’ll never turn down a free dessert,” said Sam. He looked around your kitchen, tilting his head at the pile of work papers you had shoved at one end of the table. “Y/N. Can I ask how long you’ve been in business?”
“About a year, a little less,” you said. “Since I moved in here.”
“Eileen says you guys used to live about an hour away?” he asked. “In Kansas City?”
“Yeah,” you said. “We were roommates back in school. She tell you I drop out too?”
Sam didn’t say anything. You smiled, writing a note to pick up some more blackberries.
“S’okay. I’m sure she has,” you said.
“I figured you realized you didn’t want to do that the rest of your life, be a doctor I mean,” he said.
“I never particularly wanted to be one but I’d probably still be in it if...we had a bad pile up one night. It was too much for me. I decided I wanted to do what I wanted to with my life,” you said. “Stop doing what I thought I was supposed to.”
“Hence the bakery?” he asked.
“Yeah. I always loved it. I love the baking side. The business side not so much but I don’t mind being small,” you said. “Self-employment ain’t that bad. Never got to ask the boss for time off either.”
“Well, I’m sort of unemployed at the moment if you ever want me to help out,” said Sam. “In exchange for your babysitting services that is.”
“I thought Avy went to camp during the day?” you asked.
“I meant me,” he said, cheeks pink for a moment.
“We’re just hanging out. I think you should rest though, Sam. You look tired,” you said. “Take a nap for a few minutes.”
“Dean said some stuff to me this morning. I don’t think I want to go back to being a lawyer,” he said. You lifted your chin, Sam looking around. “I worked too much. I want to spend more time with my girl, have a life again. You know?”
“I get that,” you said, Sam’s eyes going back to the stack of papers. “Sam. I don’t need a business partner. This is more to give me something to do than anything else. I don’t want to grow into some huge business either. I want to stay a mom and pop shop.”
“Alright,” he said, staring at you with big eyes and a little pout.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” you said, Sam smiling to himself. “How do you not get everything you want with a face like that?”
“Dean keeps yelling at me to stop giving him puppy dog eyes. It’s one of his weaknesses,” he said.
“I’m sure it is. So what interests you so much about the baking business?” you asked.
“Nothing. But you could use some organizational help, give you more time to focus on the baking side,” he said.
“Sam, you’d never in a million years come close to making what you do as a lawyer,” you said.
“I got a nest egg. I’m not worried about money. I worry about different stuff nowadays,” he said, rubbing his palm.
“How about once you are cleared to return to work, we revisit this conversation but until then, you are always free to come over during the work day if you get bored, hm?” you said.
“Deal.”
A/N: Read Part 5 here!
#spn#supernatural#dean x reader#dean winchester#series#spn reader insert#spn fanfiction#supernatural reader insert#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#au#au!dean x reader
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Roll to Me
A/N: This is for @cleighwrites ThANGSTgiving Writing Challenge. I chose Dean. My lyric was “And I don’t think I have ever seen a soul so in despair”, Del Amitri, Roll to Me. I was totally struggling with recalling this song by name, but if you look it up, you’ll go ‘duh’ too.
A/N 2: This is my first challenge submission EVER. Please be gentle. Would love to know what you think. There is so much awesome writing on tumblr and it’s a little terrifying to try to even dream of comparing this to any of that.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of smut, mutual pining
Summary: Demon Dean reaches out to Reader, Dean tries to comes to terms with his feelings.
Your phone screen lit up, showing a picture from some random day six or seven years before. Gorgeous car, gorgeous backdrop, gorgeous guy. You can’t help the smile in your voice, despite your grogginess, “Hey, Dean.”
“Hey, sweetheart. Is that your sex voice I hear?”
“Uh, that’s my you woke me up because it’s,” you glance at the clock on the beautiful wood-like nightstand your hotel room it outfitted with, “two thirty-seven. Thought old guys like you were in bed before the ten o’clock news.”
You hear Dean’s throaty chuckle. “Not really my style, darling. Been spending some time howling at the moon, so to speak.”
You grab at the low hanging fruit, “You guys hunting weres? Thought I might have saw something like that going down in the U.P.”
More with the growly laughing. “Not exactly. Wanted to see if you want to meet up with me?”
“Just wrapped up a situation with some witches near Little Rock.” You do a quick mental calculation. “I can be at the Bunker by tomorrow night. Tell Sam to wash my sheets with the good fabric softener.”
“Not quite what I had in mind, babe.”
Babe? You couldn’t help but wonder about that particular endearment.
“Oh, o-kay….what did you have in mind, then?”
You checked that the phone hadn’t dropped the call. Several seconds passed by before your heard Dean’s voice again. “You can’t even imagine what I want to do to you, Y/N/N. Been thinking about you for weeks now. Can’t get that silver dress you wore in Vegas out of my head.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek, to be sure you weren’t dreaming. Sam Winchester may have known about the HUGE crush you had on his brother. But the elder of the pair had never once hinted that he reciprocated. Before you could ask about the strange behavior, your phone buzzed. Funny enough Sam’s face flashed across your screen.
“Hey, Dean, Sam’s calling. Aren’t you together?”
“What the….you can ignore that sweetheart. Baby bro probably is just geeking out over some book at the bunker. Loser.”
You were used to Dean giving Sam a hard time in person, but usually he was kind of a fan girl when he talked about Sam.
“Hey, sweetheart, you still there?”
“Uh, ya.” Sam would probably call back. The boys were probably fighting and they just needed to vent.
“Good so, how about you meet me in Joplin tomorrow around lunch. You bring the whiskey, and I’ll bring the condoms.”
If you had been taking a sip of the water on your nightstand, you’d have done a spit take.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t be cheap either. I wiped the floor with a couple guys tonight. I’m flush. I’ll pay you back. See you soon, Y/N.”
The phone flashed ‘Call Ended.’ You found yourself muttering as you got up to search for the phone charger that had come unplugged. Dean might have joked and flirted with you over the years, but there had never been such blatant innuendos made. Maybe he had had a few too many tonight. You debated about calling Sam back but figured it could wait until morning. His call earlier had probably been to warn you that Dean was in a mood. Once you had taken a couple swigs of your leftover iced coffee, probably regrettably, you crawled back in to your lumpy bed, trying to shake off the uneasiness that call had left you with.
****************
The next morning you woke feeling surprisingly well-rested. Talking to Dean always gave you a little extra comfort, though the longer you wallowed in the scratchy sheets, the more you wondered about Dean’s remarks the night before. After packing the rest of your things and grabbing a surprisingly not-terrible muffin and coffee at the motel’s ‘lounge,’ you pointed your Jeep north. You shaved about 20 minutes off your GPS’s arrival time as you neared the Kansas border. You were merging in to traffic headed toward Tulsa before you remembered your conversation with Dean. He said to meet him in Joplin. Weird. Once you were back up to cruising speed and traffic had thinned out, you dialed Sam up, figuring Dean would be a bit hungover from the night before.
“Hey Y/N/N, what took you so long to call me back?” Sam sounded irritated.
“I didn’t know it was urgent. I talked to Dean last night, figured he’d let you know what’s up.”
“You what- when- where are you right now, Y/N?”
“Chill Sam. Use your words.”
“Seriously, for your sake and mine, where are you?”
“I’m on my way to the bunker. Left Little Rock first thing this morning. Why would Dean want me to meet him in Joplin?”
“He’s in Joplin?”
“I guess. What’s going on? You guys are being weird.”
“Listen, I need you to not come to the bunker. And definitely don’t head to Joplin. And don’t answer any more calls form my brother.”
“Sam you’re really freaking me out right now.”
“It’s a long story and I have to move on this info. Did you make any arrangements with him about where you’re meeting?”
“No. Just that I’d be there around lunch time.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m going to e-mail you some instructions. Do exactly as I say, please. Keep me posted if Dean contacts you. There’s a safe house we have in Lawrence. I’ll text you the address and security code. Get there as quick as you can, Y/N. I mean it.”
Sam’s little monologue had you totally freaked out. Something big was happening, and as per usual two of your favorite people seemed to be smack in the middle of it.
*****************
Walking in to the tiny house in Lawrence felt more than strange. It was in a middle-class neighborhood full of families with kids. You couldn’t help but wonder what the neighbors thought of this place. There was a layer of dust over almost everything, but upon inspection the electricity worked and there was hot water. You carried in your laptop and the lunch you had got at some overpriced drive-thru. You had to admit that the sandwich was good but the coffee was not the best. You settled in to the couch with a movie you had seen a million times before, stretching the car ride out of your muscles. You were just comfortable when Sam’s picture popped up on your phone.
“Hey, Sam, care to fill me in on just what crazy crap you guys are tangled up in right now?”
“No. Not really. Listen, I know you just rolled in to Lawrence but any chance you could make yourself scarce. As in get out of the Midwest for a while?”
“Seriously, Sam,” you started, then heard Dean’s muffled voice growling at Sam to take the cuffs off.
“Wait, is that you brother. Why is he cuffed?”
“Um, it’s like I said, long story,” Sam tried to weasel his way out of an explanation.
“Sam what is going on? I talked to Dean last night. Then you tell me I need to get to Kansas, and now I need to get out of Kansas? I’m getting some seriously mixed signals.”
“I know, Y/N/N. Can you just trust me on this?”
“Sam you’re the closest thing to family I have. I would really like to be in the loop here.”
“Okay, give me three days, then head to the bunker. And bring some holy water just in case.”
“Holy wa-,” the line went dead before you could finish your question.
You trusted the Winchesters with your life so you decided you could stay put for a couple days. You spent the rest of the evening washing sheets and towels and all of your clothes. (Only half-charmed by the fact that there was a washer and dryer and your favorite fabric softener stashed in a small laundry room.)
You spent your second day checking in with contacts and following up on a couple leads you had. Turned out the werewolves you thought might be partying in Michigan were actual wolves that some local had over exaggerated. You passed on wind of a coven near Boston to your friend Katie. Forwarded some reports of what you thought might be actual Selkies in the San Francisco Bay area. Your job was really freaking weird sometimes.
By lunchtime on day three you were pretty much bored out of your skull. Everything you had in your possession was cleaned, polished, sharpened, oiled and any other adjective you could come up with. Seriously, even your boots had gotten a nice rub down with some extra gun oil. You figured you had given your favorite brothers time to sort out the mess they were in, or at least make a good start. You decided to give Dean a call, see if he would be a little more forthcoming with details than his younger counterpart. Three numbers and no answers later, you couldn’t help but be a little irritated.
Sam picked up on the fourth ring. He sounded exhausted. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Don’t what’s up me Samuel Toronto Winchester.”
“Toronto?”
“I can never remember. And don’t distract me. I am about five seconds from hopping on the freeway and busting down the door of your Batcave. What is going on?!”
“Dean died.”
Your knees gave out and you sank against the kitchen counter. “He’s gone……and you didn’t call me?”
“I said he died. I didn’t say he’s dead.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve known you for a damn long time Sam or I would think you’ve lost it. Explain.”
“He died. Became a demon. Knight of Hell actually. I’ve been trying to track him down for a while now.”
“That is…still not enough information. Why do you have me on lockdown in Apple Pie Land?”
“I was just trying to keep you safe Y/N. Dean has been sleeping and slicing his way through the Plains like it’s his job. I didn’t know how he would react if he caught up with you.”
“So now what Sam?”
“I got him back to the Bunker, started him on what we think was a demon cure. He seems to be back to himself, for the most part. I would feel better if you stayed in Lawrence a couple more days.”
“Sam I’m going nuts here. How about I take a couple days and check some drop boxes I’ve got that aren’t too far. Could I head to the bunker say, middle of next week?”
“I think that’s doable. Just know that Dean’s really shaken up by this whole thing. He knows he did a lot of shady stuff while he was dark. I don’t know if he’ll be up to company, but you’re always welcome here, you know that.”
“Okay, well. Let me know if anything changes. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll bring you a case of that beer you like from Texas.”
“Bye Y/N. Be safe.”
************************
You spent the next few days being true to your word. You logged way too many interstate miles. Checked every mailbox you had, even one the Winchesters had given you the key to that was kind of out of your way. For some reason it was stuffed full with some cooking magazine, with Y/N Winchester as the subscription holder. You stopped by a couple surplus stores and loaded up on water and non-perishables. You even got a couple packs of t-shirts and socks for your two favorite fellas. Theirs always seemed to be one step away from growing ‘stuff.’
By Tuesday you had circled back around to Lebanon. You dropped in at a cute little bakery the boys favored. Pie for Dean and a mix of cookies that Sam would pretend weren’t on his diet but wouldn’t last two days. You got a few sandwich rolls and a tub of chicken salad that was made there, too. At least you wouldn’t starve at the ultimate bachelor pad. You figured you ought to let the boys know you were incoming.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sam. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon. Got an empty spot in that awesome garage I can park?”
“Sure thing.” He paused like he was getting ready to tell you your puppy died while you were at summer camp. “Just, don’t be surprised if Dean is a little, weird, I guess. He’s been drinking already today and seems to be a real Debbie Downer pretty much all the time. I don’t know what to do with him. Or for him. Just, I know he wouldn’t want you to get here and think it’s your fault he’s depressed or whatever.”
You couldn’t help smiling a little. “Of course not, Sam. I’ll just have to kick his ass a little. Open the garage door for me, I’ll be there in five.”
******************
Sam helped you get your Jeep unpacked and your things settled in to the room you had claimed dibs on. And someone had washed your sheets, it smelled pretty good in your room, actually. Sam almost ran you over as you stepped into the hall to head for the shower. The Men of Letters water pressure was to die for and you were convinced that the water heater was enchanted somehow.
“Sorry, Y/N. Hey, listen,” Sam tucked his hair behind his ear, a move you knew was a nervous tic of his. “Would you feel okay here with Dean by yourself? I haven’t left in days just trying to keep an eye on him. I need some fresh air and I don’t even know. Just a break I guess.”
“What are best friends for Sam. I was going to shower real quick. Any chance you guys have some frozen pizzas stashed in one of those enormous freezers?”
Sam couldn’t seem to stifle a grin at you expense, while he swept you into a big hug. He was your second favorite person to hug in the whole world. “I hope you never change, Y/N/N. Pizza’s on the bottom shelf. Call me if something comes up.” He kissed the side of your head and walked off.
You decided to kill two birds with one stone and throw the pizza in while you showered. You cranked the oven, tossed the pizza in and headed down the hall, fiddling with your phone to set a timer. You shrieked when you hit something solid.
“Hey sweetheart, sorry I scared you.”
You breathed out his name. “Dean, hey. I wondered if you were hiding from me.” You couldn’t help but tug the lapels of the robe you had on self-consciously.
“Why would I hide from you? You’re my best girl. I mean best girl friend.” He hiccupped. “Ha, I mean best friend who is a girl.”
You couldn’t help but wonder if the blush on his cheeks was because of the slip-up or the whiskey you could smell on his breath. “Right. Anyway. I have a pizza in the oven and was heading to shower. And I’m down to like,” you glanced at your phone, “seven minutes. You want to share?” Then your own nerves kicked in. “I meant share the pizza, not the um, the shower thing.”
Dean gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. Almost disappointed. “How about you shower, I’ll set us up pizza and whatever in the Dean cave.”
“The what?”
“The Dean Cave™. Three doors down from your room. You’ll love it.”
*******************
Showered and feeling the most relaxed you’d been since leaving Little Rock, you followed your nose to the Dean Cave. When you stepped through the door you couldn’t help but giggle. “You weren’t kidding, were you? This is…perfect for you, De. You pulled out all the stops, huh.” You could tell he was trying not to be too proud of himself, but the big grin he was wearing gave it away. It was one of your favorite smiles in the whole world. He had plates and glasses on a small table between two enormous recliners. Pizza, beer and the pie you thought you had smuggled in were on a side table. You couldn’t help your own smile, while you fixed a plate and got comfy in a big chair. “Mind if I play some music?”
“As long as it’s not the crap you play in your car.”
“What other music is there?” you joked. You liked a lot of stuff, but the country music you had been bombarded with over the last week was getting old. “I made a cool mix. You’ll know some of these songs, they came out when you were in high school.”
“Oh, jeez, the nineties, really. I thought you had better taste than that.”
“Hey punk, there was some good stuff. I didn’t say you had to dance or anything. Just some background music.”
“Fine. Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”
*********************
You spent the next hour regaling Dean with some of the more interesting things you had been up to since your last Bunker visit. “And that is pretty much everything since we worked that weird mummy case in Vegas.” You adjusted your legs and missed Dean tensing up. “So, am I allowed to ask about you? Or are we going to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, De?”
Dean tried to glare at you like he wanted to cut this conversation short. You really were one of his favorite people, and he didn’t want to let you down with tales of Demon Dean. “I’m sure Sam gave you the highlights.” He rubbed his hand across his neck, his version of the Winchester tic. You realized he was refusing to meet your eyes.
“I was just. Checking in with you, I guess. Sam said you’ve been, um. Been drinking. More than usual. And the only reason you’re eating with me is because I asked. You would have liked to tap out already.”
“Y/N I love hanging out with you. It’s just. It sounds stupid, but I guess I’m just trying to find a way to atone for my actions. His actions. I don’t know. I did a lot of stupid, horrible things. Nothing I’m proud of. I practically called you up for a booty call. That probably wouldn’t have ended well for you. Guess I couldn’t keep you off my mind even when I was a demon.”
You watched Dean all through his self-deprecating speech. He looked at the hole in the knee of his jeans the entire time. When he finally did glance up, you couldn’t stop yourself, you mouthed along with the song that had started playing “And I don't think I have ever seen a soul so in despair.” That seemed to break something in him, and you noticed the tears start rolling down his cheeks. You reached out to grab his hand, calluses snagging. “You don’t know the half of it sweetheart.”
You tugged on his hand and he sunk to his knees in front of you. He hugged around your waist and you used the edge of your shirt to wipe up some of his tears. You leaned down, tucking his head under your chin. “Actually, I do know the half of it. And in case you didn’t notice I keep coming back.”
“Well, then I guess the other line in that song is about me too.” You leaned back into your seat, giving him a questioning look. “Wrong guy, wrong situation.”
“Ya, no. You are definitely the right guy,” you glanced away shyly, “for someone.”
You felt Dean’s hands slide down your thighs. “I doubt that, sweetheart.”
You took a deep breath and met his eyes. They were watery and red-rimmed, but always a spectacular jade. “You are the other, other guy De. The songs about having someone you can count on.” It was his turn to look away. You grabbed his chin, spinning his face around. “When the engine’s stalled and it won’t stop raining…you are always my first call. When I get a huge win. Or have to lick my wounds. You’ve got my back.” You hoped the smile you gave him wasn’t giving too much away.
“Y/N, I am no good for someone as great as you. I literally called you two weeks ago, because I was a demon. He wanted to sink his teeth into you. And not the fun way.” Dean wiped his eyes, with the back of his hand. “What would I have done, then?”
“Well, we were gonna have booze and condoms. Think I know what we would have been doing.” You seemed to have the bad habit of putting your foot in your mouth around Dean. You leaned over to kiss the top of Dean’s head, trying to make a hasty escape. “See you in the morning, De.”
***************
Dean spent a couple minutes on the floor trying to make sense of your conversation. He worked at gathering up the mess the two of you had made, realizing you hadn’t touched the pie. He always seemed to get distracted when you were around. As he stashed the last of the trash in the bin, he tripped across something rather dazedly. You had agreed to meet him, well the demon version of him, with the intention of hooking up. Maybe you thought he had just been messing around. Huh.
***************
You were just starting to drift off in the awesome mattress you discovered had been replaced since your last visit, when a timid knock caught your attention. You shifted up in the bed, making sure your lack of pants wasn’t obvious, and called, “Come in.”
Dean’s shadow appeared in your doorway, and you squinted to actually see his features in the dim light.
“You were going to meet me in Joplin. Why didn’t you question it?”
“I figured you needed back up on a case or something.”
“You didn’t question the condoms. Then or tonight. Why?”
You could feel yourself flush at the insinuation. “I just figured you were screwing around. You make jokes with me all the time.”
“Not about having sex with you.”
“Well, I know. But other jokes. Flirty things when we go out to a bar. Or things you find online and send me.”
“But I don’t joke about having sex, not with you.”
You weren’t sure what the big deal was. And Dean’s face was still in shadow. “Sorry, I guess. I shouldn’t have joked about it either, won’t happen again,” you apologized.
While you were talking Dean closed the door behind him, plunging you into all but blackness. The bed dipped near your knees, and you suppressed a squeak of surprise. As your eyes adjusted to the near pitch dark, you could see Dean’s shoulders sagging. “Hey,” you nudged him with your leg, hoping he could see your smile, “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I just thought, you know, we joke and kid around and if I crossed a line, I will definitely try to avoid that kind of joke in the future.”
Dean found your hand that was tucked in to your lap. Leave it to him to have cat-like night vision. “I, uh.” Dean cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the bed, squeezing your hand just a little. “I’m not mad, it’s just.” Another cough, and you thought you heard him mumble ‘get it together, man.’
“De, can I turn the light on. Or you turn the light on. I’m just in a t-shirt here.” The light clicked on and your eyes adjusted as Dean sat back down. You grabbed his hand back, loving that little bit of contact. “It’s just you and me here. What’s got you all tongue-tied?”
Dean took another breath. “Sex with you will never be something I joke about, because I can’t possibly imagine anything more serious in my life. I mean. You are so beautiful. And perfect and just thinking about and knowing it would never happen makes it too hard to joke about.”
You were sure he got that out in one exhale. Your buzz from earlier seemed to wear off quite quickly. You made sure Dean was looking you in the eye when you replied, “It would never be a joke to me. It would be, what’s the word?” You hoped Dean was reading your expression loud and clear. “Kind of a dream come true.”
Dean continued to stare at you, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “I….What?”
“I said that would be a dream come true for me. Why do you think I keep coming back around, De? It’s not for the beautiful balcony view. Or the great eats. It’s because it’s where you are.” You tugged on the hand you were still holding bringing Dean’s mouth within inches of your own. “Kiss me, please, tell me I didn’t read this wrong.”
Dean leaned in and between wet presses of his beautiful mouth gasped “Read it….totally….right….I’m an idiot….god you’re gorgeous….taste so good….”
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7x08: Season Seven, Time for a Wedding!
Then:
Sam Winchester deserves better
Now:
Las Vegas, Nevada
Dean’s enjoying the company of a grad student just trying to pay her bills. (Dean, what are you, 10 years her senior? Plz stop, your wrinkles are showing.) (And you’re a big fucking liar. You more than likely dropped out of school because it was too boring for your smart brain and your dad made you skip school for hunting trips so it became a two fold problem of you not keeping up with the school work load and you not seeing a reason to care to keep up with the school work load --only!! You got your GED so you must care on some level. Please enlighten us, Dean. #endrant) Dean unloads a ton of Winchester angst on the woman and then gets a text from Sam. He’s four blocks away and he wants Dean to meet him wearing his fed suit.
Dean heads to the Little White Chapel (it has a “24 hour drive up wedding window!” lol) Dean’s suspicious enough of the place to pull his gun. He finds Sam. Yay! Sam’s in LOVE y’all and he’s getting MARRIED! (Listen, we know the problems with this episode, but I’m going to lean real hard into the absurdity of the whole thing. My personal belief is to read this episode just like Red Meat. BECKY IS PROBLEMATIC AND WE’RE SUPPOSED TO SEE HER THAT WAY. It’s kinda curious that we’ve never seen her again...kinda like this episode closed the door on how this show views those types of fans. Ahem.)
Just then Sam’s bride starts walking down the aisle. It’s Becky!
Dean is VERKLEMPT. He wants to know how this happened. “We met, we ate and then talked and fell in love.” Dean points out to Sam that it’s no coincidence that Becky showed up during their annual Vegas week. (Sidenote: Where are all the fics on Dean and Sam’s Las Vegas week? You know, the one where Dean meets a fellow craps player and there’s a friendly competition and a warm banter and somehow they end up back at Dean’s hotel room and maybe there’s a real marriage that they both forgot about and they go their separate ways and 5 years later Dean’s gonna marry his good friend Lisa to help her out for something and discovers he’s already married so he has to track down this mysterious guy Cas and whoops, they’ve got so much in common and well ---I mean, the story just writes itself.) She’s read all the books. She knows them inside and out. Sam tells Dean to take a moment to realize that this is real. They’re heading back to Becky’s place in Delaware.
Dean alerts Bobby to the situation as he’s heading out of town.
Becky and her new (and very attractive hubby) arrive at the Montgomery High School 10 year Class Reunion. Becky runs inside to buy tickets for the event. Also, she’s live tweeting her revenge plan it seems. She runs into Aaron Burr Guy (I mean, I’m not going to just breeze right past the fact that pre-Hamilton Leslie Odom Jr. was on Supernatural. WTF???). Becky introduces her good friend to her new husband (and Jared Padalecki is SO tall). He takes off to go inside and she runs to give him a hug and they exchange a mysterious vial.
Away from Sam, she reveals that he’s a witch.
Dean rolls up to the reunion just as Sam and Becky are pulling away. He heads to a bar. He sees a paper with the headline “Truck Kills Pedestrian in Freak Accident”.
At Becky’s place, Sam starts to break out of the trance she has him in, so Becky adds more mysterious juice to his champagne and forces him to drink. All is CRaZy iN BeCKy LAnD.
Cut to a baseball diamond where a dude is practicing hitting the ball. Another dude (that I KNOW has been in another episode of SPN) makes the ball machine go faster and then moves the ball machine over to hit the other guy in the head, breaking the fourth wall with blood. Lovely. #sportsball.
Dean brings his newly married brother a waffle iron (#bestgiftever).
Dean’s got a case. It seems the baseball guy is part of it. Turns out, Sam and Becky are already working the case. Dean points out that people are having their dreams come true in this town, and then he looks to Becky. Dean can’t get through to his brother so he leaves.
Cut to Dean wanting to work with Bobby, but Bobby has other plans.
Cut to Becky Rosen being a 28 year old teenager creeper. Ugh. Sam’s made them fake ID’s (twu luv) and says “check this out” to her. UGH. He points out another potential victim. He also notices her notebook of hearts and weirdness. But he likes it! Yay!
Dean heads to meet the hunter Bobby assigned to help him. No spoilers or anything, but IT’S GARTH!
Dean points out the case in the paper, but Garth needs to read Marmaduke first. OH GARTH.
They head to interview someone that just got a big promotion. Becky and Sam beat them to it. Becky and Dean exchange scowls. Sam and Garth exchange confused looks. Once in the interview, the guy doesn’t reveal much to Dean. Garth cuts right to the chase and asks if the guy made it to the top through “black magic or hoodoo.” Dean’s fake laugh GIVES ME LIFE. The guy admits that this isn’t his dream. Enter his wife: Hmmm. Dean and Garth catch up to the wife and Dean threatens her. “Why do people keep thinking I’m threatening them?” Oh, Dean Bean. The woman denies everything and takes off.
Back at Becky’s place (their place now?) Sam mulls over the evidence. Becky delightedly plots a romantic getaway when Sam suddenly crumples. Oops, better put that lovey-dovey vacation on hold until you can drug your husband again! She’s dismayed to see that she can’t give him a fix because the potion has leaked out into her purse lining. Wherps.
Dean saves the CEO’s wife from getting crushed by a falling light fixture at the company headquarters. Garth and Dean interrogate her and learn that she bargained with someone for her soul but lololol there’s no such thing as a soul so she got a great deal. Right? RIGHT?!! Garth makes plans to move her into witness protection - Garth style.
Sam’s doing increasingly poorly and Becky, desperate, beans him over the head with the waffle iron. Thanks for the gift, Dean! They used it already.
He wakes up in a Misery situation, bound to the bed. (note to self: watch/read Misery someday instead of just casually referencing it.) (Boris: Uh, yeah!) Becky fawns over him while simultaneously not freeing him. She then flits off to chat with Guy, panicking about the potion. “This isn’t the honeymoon I had in mind,” she says before amending, “Well, some of it is.” UGH. She frets about them not consummating their marriage yet and...at least there’s that.
Becky heads in to talk to Sam, once again cloaked in denial. Sam tells her that she roofied him (no I didn’t) and that her witch friend is the one killing all their victims (no, he’s just a wiccan). She insists that the killer is something or someone else. Becky PLEASE.
Sam tells her to wake up. “It's never something else. When are there ever two crazy things in town at the same time? Guy's the creep, and you're on his list.” Guy also fed her the line that the potion only works if Sam loves her “deep down,” to which Sam is incredulous. He tells her to untie him then, and in response she shoves a rag into his mouth. Yeah.
At the reunion restaurant, Becky meets up with Guy who starts to hand over the potion.
Guy pulls the potion back at the last minute. “Let’s talk price.” Becky learns that they are NOT in fact, besties. Guy’s price for Sam’s devotion is her soul. She recognizes him as a crossroads demon and, inoculated by her fan consumption of Supernatural, Becky sits tight and listens even after his eyes flash red. Guy LOVES reunions. They’re perfect for trapping people who are desperate to impress their old classmates or improve their lives. Speaking of desperate, Guy gives Becky a special bargain: 25 years before her soul’s collected if she promises to never breathe a word to the Winchesters about her bargain.
Dean and Garth bust into Becky’s apartment. It’s empty, but Garth finds a webpage open to Twitter on her laptop, and her feed indicates that she’s going on a trip with her “hubster.” Dean finds a picture of Becky holding a fish in front of a cabin, Garth makes a nonsequitur on the creepy nature of fish eyes (I love you, Garth), and they’re ready to track them to the cabin.
Becky returns to find Sam still tied to the bed. (Damn girl, who taught you how to tie a knot?) Becky mournfully reflects on her situation. She really wanted to prance Sam Winchester around to her ex-classmates. She calls herself a loser. Sure, Becky. That’s spelled F E L O N. She loved the message board communities and dating Chuck....life was good as a fan. She just wants love! Sam mumbles something at her through the handkerchief and she pulls it out. “If you want somebody to love you for you, maybe don’t drug them.” Decent Human 101, right? She pulls out the vial of potion and contemplates using it, to Sam’s horror.
Later, Becky nurses a drink at the reunion restaurant when Guy walks in. Becky missed the party, but she’s there to talk to Guy. She tells him she’ll agree to the bargain. Guy approaches for a kiss to seal the deal when Becky flicks a lighter and drops it to the floor. A flare shoots up and burns a quick devil’s trap on the floor, trapping Guy.
Becky tries to celebrate with Sam. Becky just….NO.
Dean confronts Guy, asking him how he’s managing to kill off all his soul acquisitions before their 10 years are up. Guy laughs and tells them that accidents happen - HE doesn’t kill them. His demon intern does. Cue the intern - the scraggly, hairy guy from earlier. Intern blasts them all across the room. The demon knife gets knocked aside but before Dean can grab it, Guy’s out of the trap. It’s looking bad for our heroes when Becky grabs the demon-killing knife and stabs Intern in the back. She passes it to Dean who holds the knife to Guy’s throat and tells him to release his last 15 deals.
“Oh crap,” Guy says, but it’s not because of Dean.
“Hello, boys,” Crowley says from behind them. Dean and Sam look worried but Becky practically has hearts and stars in her eyes. It turns out that Guy’s intern couldn’t keep his mouth shut and bragged about the scheme to Crowley. Crowley tears into Guy. “This isn’t Wall Street, this is Hell!” In Hell, they have INTEGRITY, and need to uphold their bargains or nobody will sell their souls to them anymore.
The Winchesters and Crowley size each other up. Crowley has nothing but the BEST intentions for the Winchesters. They haven’t encountered a demon in months, right? It turns out that it’s because Crowley’s been keeping them on a tight leash. Crowley is pro-Winchester when it comes to killing leviathans. “I hate the bastards. Squash ‘em all, please.” Dean tells Crowley to rip up Guy’s remaining contracts, and when he does so, Dean shoves Guy at Crowley. They zap out.
In Becky’s apartment, Sam signs the annulment paperwork and tells Becky that he won’t see her again. Sam’s a nice guy, though, so he tells Becky that she’s a “good person” and that someday she’ll find the right guy. I mean...I wouldn’t go THAT far but okay. We’re striving for rehabilitation here. Garth lights up and starts to smooth his hair. “No,” Dean tells him while I am yelling NO GARTH BBY DON’T.
Outside, the Winchesters say goodbye to Garth. “You don’t suck,” Dean tells him. Dean. Bean. He gets a HUGE hug for it and then Garth takes off.
Sam tells Dean that he didn’t mean what he said when he was roofied - he does need Dean to watch his back. Dean accepts the sentiment with grace. “For a whack job you really pulled it together.” Dean. BEAN.
Sam also tells Dean that since he doesn’t have to watch out for him, Dean can start looking out for himself for the first time in his life. Dean is THRILLED at this revelation and by thrilled, I mean sent into a self-pitying tailspin. Sigh.
_____________________________________________
These Quotes have been Garthed:
We all need to face ourselves sometime.
Shouldn’t she ask for my permission or something?
I’m gonna be sick.
Oh, Marmaduke, you’re crazy!
Why do people keep thinking I'm threatening them?
You're so pathetic, it actually loops back around again to cute.
Blueberry vodka. The answer to all of life's problems.
_______________________________________
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#spn recap#spn rewatch#spn 7x08#season 7 time for a wedding#dean winchester#sam winchester#becky rosen#supernatural season 7
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Retribution
Sam and Dean stand in the back of the crowd, watching as the young woman tosses a handful of dirt over her mother’s grave. The preacher prays, and people begin to disperse.
“That’s her, right? The daughter?” Dean asks, eyeing the mocha skinned young woman, more of a girl, really, make her way out of the cemetery.
“Yeah. That’s her. Jade Munro.” Dean nods and heads to the parking lot surrounding the cemetery. Dusk is just beginning to fall, and he’d really like to wrap this up before night falls completely.
The parking lot is nearly empty when they arrive at the cobalt Mustang at the edge of the asphalt.
“Ms. Munro,” he calls out. The woman pops up from behind the car, her arms reaching over her head to unzip the lace dress that’s hugging her body. She gives them a smirk and wave.
“You’re the hunters, then?” she asks, sliding the lace over her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin. All of her skin, save for what little is covered by her lace bra and panties. Dean and Sam turn away, out of respect.
“Uhh… What? No!” Dean chuffs. How the hell did she know.
“Yeah right. Look, I know what Holly did. I know she was a hunter. And I also know that she wasn’t killed in a bear attack.” She was right. Holly Munro was one of the best in the business. But she’d always claimed to have kept it from her only child. “You can turn around now. I’m decent,” Jade announces.
“How?” Sam asks.
Jade shrugs, sliding her feet into combat boots. “I’ve known for a long time. I found her journal when I was 10. I just let her believe whatever she wanted. Wasn’t like she was ever home anyway. So, what’s our first move?”
“Excuse me? No. There is no ‘we’. You’re not involved in this,” Dean argues, voice hard.
“Look, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got a few hunts under my belt, myself. So, it’s either with you, or alone. But I’m going to kill the son of a bitch that killed my mother.”
“Holly sent us to take care of you. You’re a kid, and we’re here to get you set up somewhere safe and keep you away from this stuff.” Jade barks out a laugh.
“A kid? Dude, I’m 19.”
“Exactly,” Sam replies with a huff.
“And how old are you? 23? 24?” Jade asks him, a smirk pulling at her cheeks.
“25,” Sam replies, dejectedly. Jade grins.
“Well, look, you’ve heard my terms. I’m doing this. With, or without you.” Dean sighs.
“Fine. But you stick to us like glue.” Jade salutes them before tossing her funeral clothes in the trunk and slamming it shut.
“Sir, yes sir.”
Back in the Impala, Dean is fuming, and Sam knows that the blow up is coming. Jade is definitely getting under his skin.
“Dean, calm down. It’s her mom. She has the right to help get justice.”
“Justice, Sam!? That’s not justice. It’s revenge. And look where it’s gotten us! Do you feel any better!? Cuz I sure as hell don’t!” Sam sighs. He knows that he’s not going to get anywhere with Dean when he’s acting like this, so there’s not much point in trying.
…
It’s nearly dawn when they pull into the Oak Ridge Lodge. Jade pulls in smoothly beside them and parks, jumping out of the car before Dean has even put Baby in park. The elder Winchester shakes his head. He unfolds himself from the front seat and heads to the office.
…
“Jade, you take the bed closest to the bathroom. Sammy, take the bed by the door. I’ll take the couch,” Dean instructs when they enter the room. He dumps his bag on the couch and heads to the fridge to put the six pack he’d picked in the cool air. Jade places her bag on the bed and rifles through it, digging out some clothes before making her way to the bathroom.
“Dean, that thing ain’t sleep-able. Just crash with me. It’s not a big deal,” she invites. Dean studies her, then the couch, then her again before nodding.
“Fine. Thanks.”
…
Dean is laying stiffly on the edge of the bed when Jade returns from the bathroom. She’s wearing a tank top and boxers. She slides in on the other side of the bed and curls up, back facing Dean. It’s silent for a few minutes before Jade speaks.
“Dean,” she whispers. Dean’s eyes snap open.
“Yeah? You ok?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you. I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. And for letting me come with you. I know you didn’t have to do that, and it means a lot.” Dean turns his head toward her.
“It’s not going to make you feel better, ya know? Killing the thing that killed your mom. It won’t help.”
“I know. But it’s what she would do for me. So, I owe her that much.”
“Fair enough.”
“You…You’ve lost someone too, huh?”
“Yeah,” Dean whispers brokenly. “My mom and dad. A demon. Almost took Sammy too.” Tentatively, Jade takes his hand.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I know it’s hard.” Dean gives her hand a little squeeze, letting the room fall silent again.
The next morning, Sam, Jade, and Dean sit down to eat breakfast at the motel diner.
“So, I figure we head out to Sarvis Creek. It’s in the Routt National Forest, and it feels like it might be the best bet for finding a wendigo,” Sam says, clicking the keys of his laptop.
Jade chokes. “Wait. Wendigo? Really? Aren’t those like super rare?” Dean nods.
“Yeah, but we ran up on one a few years ago. It does fit the M.O.”
“How do we kill it?”
“Fire.” Jade’s eyes are a little wide as she takes in Dean’s words.
…
“You ready for this, Kid?” Dean asks as they park in the forest’s visitor center’s parking lot.
“I’m ready,” she assures, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She pulls her hair out of the strap, brushing it out of her face and over her flannel covered shoulder.
“Wait, guys, what is this?” Jade calls as they round the back of the visitor center. Sam and Dean join her and look up.
“What’s what?” Sam asks, squinting.
“That,” Jade says, leaning up on her tiptoes, pointing to markings on the wall of the building.
“Anasazi drawings. Probably warning about what hides in the woods.”
“Anasazi? Do people still communicate that way? With hieroglyphs and stuff?”
“Some do.”
Night falls early in the forest, and Dean builds a fire. Jade camps herself on one side of it, looking forlorn.
“What’s up, Jade?” Sam asks, offering her a bottle of water.
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”
“About what?” Dean asks, sitting next to her.
“Just, ya know. My mom. She did this stuff by herself all the time. And then one time she just didn’t come back. And I used to be so angry at her for being gone. And when she was home, I was awful to her. I would stay in my room and avoid her. I’d refuse to tell her I loved her or give her a hug. I was a terrible daughter.” Dean takes her hand.
“You were a kid without a mom. And it’s understandable that you were mad. You had every right to be. And Holly knew that. She also knew that you loved her. Even if you wouldn’t say the words, she knew. Trust me. We always want that one last time to tell them how we feel, but we don’t always get it.” Jade gives him a small smile before laying her head on his shoulder.
…
“Jade. Jade!” the voice wakes her up. Why is Dean calling her in the middle of the night. The fire has died out, and Jade can’t see to the other side of the clearing, where the boys are, so she stands up, intent on following the voice.
“Dean? Dean, what is it?” she asks, walking away from her sleeping bag. She tiptoes further away from the embers of the fire. “Dean!” she hisses. “Where the fuck are you?!”
“Jade!” The voice echoes around her, and she freezes. She has no idea where the voice is coming from. She hears a thump behind her and turns, screaming at what she sees.
“Dean!” she shrieks, as a claw rakes down her left arm, shredding the skin.
The creature standing in front of her is hideous, and she’s glued to the spot for a few seconds, until Dean’s, “JADE!” tears through the air.
Jade turns on her heel, running as fast as she can, but the thin, cold hand that wraps around her throat and draws her forcefully back is much stronger and much faster. She slams into the creature’s body, forcing the air out of her. But not for long.
“Dean! Sam! It’s him! Help! Turn left!” She knows that her odds of not being eaten but the creature under her are greater if she keeps yelling, telling the Winchesters where she is. The wendigo clamps a hand over her mouth, its smell nearly making her gag, and yet, she continues to scream.
Soon, but not nearly soon enough for Jade, she hears loud footsteps running toward them. That’s when she feels the creature jump. Then heat, and the sensation of falling. She hadn’t realized that her eyes were closed until they sprang open, just in time for her to slam into the ground. Her leg was on fire, and the ground was much harder than she was hoping, and flaming bits of wendigo were flying all around her, but she was alive. So, she gives a small smile, and let’s the darkness draw her in.
…
“What the fuck?!” she splutters as the cold water hits her face.
Sam tosses the canteen to the ground, reaching to help Dean lift Jade to her feet. “OWW!” she hisses when she puts weight on her left leg.
“I know, Jay. We’re going to patch you up. It’s gonna be ok,” Dean reassures, scooping her up.
“What happened? Did we get him?”
“Dean got him with a Molotov cocktail. He’s dead.”
“Good. Should we like…” she was getting woozy again. “Find his cave or whatever?”
“Just rest. I’m gonna get you back to the hotel and fix you up, Sammy will take care of the nest.”
…
A few days later, Jade, Sam, and Dean are packed and ready to leave. And the youngest hunter’s stomach is in knots. She doesn’t want to leave the boys. She’s grown too attached.
“Ready to go?” Sam asks, coming back in from packing the cars.
“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Jade replies, struggling to her feet. Sam helps hoist her up, and she gives him a grateful smile.
“Alright, Losers. I figure we’ll rest up at Bobby’s for a few days, then we’ll find a new hunt. Let’s hit the road. I need a burger.”
“Wait. ‘We’?” Jade asks, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, ‘we’. You got a problem with that?”
“Not at all, Dean. Not at all.”
The end.
Want more Jade Munro? Let me know.
Word count: 1893
#SPN#spnfanfic#spnfandom#spnfamily#supernatural#supernatural imagines#imagines#story#dean winchester#sam winchester
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Mine: Ch4 - ME
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Little fluff, little angst, smut adjacent, violence.
Word Count: 5,839.
Chapter Summary: Dean finally had everything he wants.
A/N: Choo choo. The crazy train has finally left the station.
Ao3 if you prefer
In the morning you’re there. You, backlit by the warm glow of the lamp we left on, fill my vision. You’re more than I thought I would ever get, you’re more than I deserve, and yet here you are. In my bed, with me.
It’s been six weeks since our first date and you’ve been more or less living with me for five weeks now. I’d be shocked at how easy it was but there must have been an upside to the whole post-Carl mourning thing. When I brought you back here, again, you already knew Sam and you’d greeted him like an old friend. You hadn’t scoffed at the windowless rooms or wrinkled your nose at the underground home I live in. You’d smiled. Your shoulders melted at the sound of the bunker door closing. I’m not sure you were even aware of it but you feel safe here and you like feeling safe.
In the beginning, you’d at least pretend you didn’t live here. You’d go home for days at a time and when you did that place felt a little less like home. I saw it. The house was colder, emptier. You moved about it robotically. It’s almost laughable leaving a place as big as the bunker and finding a one-bed townhouse too empty. I know why. It’s not the size of the rooms, it’s the way your voice echoes off the walls. I get it. I’ve understood you since our first date.
That night you’d told me the answers to as many of my questions as you could. You left New York when your mom got sick. At first, you’d never made friends in town because you crammed every second you had with her. I get it. I understand the greedy need to hoard time with a parent. It’s another one of those things we both share. But then she died six months ago. And in those six months, you’ve only made casual friends, the kind you knew their names and said hi to at the grocery store. Sometimes you’d go to dinner or book club but it’s all exterior bullshit. The people who know you almost as well as I do, the ones who you call because you miss them? They’re still in New York.
I hate that whenever you talk about New York it’s like you left a piece of you there. Makes me wanna get in my car and bring it back.
At least now I know the reason behind your choices. Why you ended up with Carl, why you suffered that dick at work. Hell, why you brighten up every time you skip down those stairs even if it’s just me and Sam here. You’re not just lonely like a bored housewife. You’re lonely to your bones. And you’d rather get your heart broken a hundred times than be alone.
I’m the cure, where your suffering all ends. I won’t take advantage of you Y/N, I won’t break you. I want you so I can look after you. I see who you are.
Now we’re here though. Two weeks ago I convinced you to really move in, which is fast, I get it. Sam can’t believe it and most of your stuff is in storage still, but it feels right. We feel right. Being together and having you here? I’m not worried anymore. I trust you because I trust us.
You sleep curled into me. On your side, your right side, snuggled against my chest with your legs tangled between mine. By morning you’ve moved but not far. Enough that your face is on the pillow next to me. With you in your spot, I get to enjoy watching your lips part and the slow, deep breaths you take. You’re perfect awake but in sleep you’re different somehow and I can’t take my eyes off you. Everything slows down watching you sleep.
Then, you stir. Sometimes it’s when I tuck stray pieces of hair behind your ears or sometimes it’s with the weight of my hand on your cheek. I can’t help touching you and I’ll never be sorry when you open your eyes, see me and smile dreamily.
“Mornin’” I love being the first thing you hear when you open your eyes.
Your smile gets wider and you untangle yourself to stretch your arms above your head, “do we have to get up today?”
Not the first time you’ve asked me that. Every time you do it gets harder to break your heart. Even superficially.
“’ Afraid so sweetheart,” you whine and I bring you back to me with a quick kiss to your lips. “But you haven’t got work till three so we don't have to get up right now.”
You smile against my mouth and lean into my touch. Your shoulder then neck, my fingers follow a blissful trail of your impossibly soft skin. Fuck, you’re too good. I'm convinced these mornings of ours are as close as I’ll ever get to heaven again. Last time I went it hadn’t agreed with me and now if I end up there when I finally bite the big one? Well, it won’t compare to this. Lazy mornings mapping every part of you. Sometimes the sex is slow and lazy and sometimes I bury myself in you till you scream. It’s always ours. It’s a bubble that only pops when the door opens.
Today is a playful middle. No brutal rush or lazy rock of my hips. Today is teasing, holding out as long as we can until fun becomes frantically chasing release. Then you’re begging me and I won’t let you go over the edge until you say it. Not until you answer my question, always the same one.
“Who do you belong to, baby?” My forehead pressed against yours and I've all but stilled against you. I’ll hold it all back until you tell me what I want to hear. No, not want. What I need to hear.
“You. Dean, please. I’m all yours.”
You might think it’s just sex. You might think it’s a possessive kink thing. I’ll let you think whatever you want because deep down we both know the truth. You can have everything you’ve ever wanted with me, as long as you’re mine.
We're not slipping back into sleep so it’s barely a minute before you slip away from me. Although you never leave without a kiss and a promise. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower and then I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“You’re too good to me.”
You look at me like you're about to make the moment serious. As if you know all the things I’ve done for you and breakfast is just part of your debt.
But, you don’t know. And I’m not keeping track. I’d never keep score with you, there is no debt. I did what I had to but all that’s in the past. The present and the future is only you in my bed. Or you as you almost leave in nothing my shirt.
“I know I am. But you must have figured you signed up for this when you asked out a chef?”
I shrug against the pillows, I’d never really expected you to cook but you know know that.
“Nah, I figured there’d be more pie, to be honest.”
Your eyes flash and you pout playfully, “oh you asked for it, Winchester.”
“Hey dude,” Sam starts. There are only two ways this sentence is going to finish. Since it’s not my birthday I’m pretty sure we're not going to a strip club.
“I found us a case.” He finishes with that telltale smile. He needs a hobby. Or someone of his own. He gets bored too easily and he forgets that I have you. I get it but unfortunately, my face is already grimacing. “Come on dude. Two people dead in three days. Both of them with strange animal bites on their necks.” He even bends his fingers to air quote the word 'strange'. Loser.
“Vamps?” I don’t mean to sound so hopeful but bloodsuckers mean I won’t even be gone that long.
Sam looks back to his laptop as if the article he’s reading will actually say, vampires. “Looks like it.”
He sounds excited and hell, I wouldn’t mind a little mano e mano to blow off some steam. And a few days with Sam will do me some good. You’re the problem. As much as this is my life you are a new complication and it’s been the same story for the last six weeks. I can travel as far as I can but you’re still here. Pulling me back to you like a stretched out rubber band is connecting us. The drive back always feels like letting go, letting myself ping back to where you are. It’s dangerous to think about you while burning bones and gutting monsters. One day it'll get me in trouble.
Of course, it is easier now. Now I can call you, text you, and let myself grin at my phone when you reply. But still, leaving is the fucking worst.
“Pie number three is in the oven. I swear I’ll make you rue the day you accused me of not making enough pie… oh hey, Sam. You don’t mind if I kill him with pie, right?”
You bounce in with a plate in your hands which means number two finally cooled down enough that you’ll let me eat some. Sam looks up at you with a fond smile, “don’t you think he’s tried that himself over the years?”
“I don’t doubt he’s tried but I’ve got the moxie to really pull it off.”
I love that you and Sam are friendly like this. Maybe even on the way to being actual friends. You both accepted each other without argument. But I should put a stop to this particular conversation before you conspire long enough to put me on a diet.
“Ok, ok that’s enough. I don’t joke about your hopes and dreams.” The slice I take from your hands is cherry and you rock onto your toes while I take a bite. Only when the first mouthful makes me moan are you satisfied enough to relax.
“I hate to slow you down when you’re on a mission but we’re heading out on a case.” I deliver the bad news myself since I need you to like Sam.
You frown quickly. You try to catch yourself but it stills lingers on your face, “really?”
“’ Afraid so, sweetheart.”
“Well, since the next one is pecan will you at least take some for the road? If you don’t I’ll eat the whole thing and we don't all have your insatiable metabolism.” You whine a little from the chair next to me that you’ve slipped into. All the better to be closer before I leave.
“Pecan? I’ll take the whole thing.” You laugh into me so the sound vibrates my chest. Your hair is soft under my hand as I stroke it, still taking mouthfuls of pie with the other. “You sure you’ll be ok for a few days?”
“I’ll be fine. Go, save some people. I’ll still love you when you get back.”
You don’t seem to realize what you’ve said, or you don’t find it out of place. Maybe you’re not keeping track. But it’s the first time you’ve said that. So, naturally, I'm grinning like an idiot.
Sam waits the appropriate amount of time before he clears his throat, “I’m still right here guys.”
“And if you're lonely I know some nice girls I can set you up with.” You mumble without looking at him.
“I appreciate the offer.” He sasses back to you before fixing his eyes on me, “wheels up in thirty?”
“Make in an hour.” My girl just told me she loved me after all.
There’s a lot of clues I should have picked up on that something’s wrong when we get back. A half-eaten plate of food sitting on the table in the library, next to one of your books, is the biggest. It suggests you were mid-meal when you’d been distracted by something. This particular meal, still waiting for you with a fork left resting in it, is stone cold now. So, you’re not heading back from something at all. Wherever you are, you didn’t intend to be gone long.
I can’t help that I’m excited to see you after a two-day hunt that turned into three. Excited to see the recognition on your face when you see me, to know that you light up like that for me. I’m excited to see the girl who loves me. Excuse me for missing the goddamn clue.
Sam doesn’t question my long strides or fast pace. He knows I’m itching to see you. Especially since he’s sat in a car with me for the last six hours. He’d told me you were fine, safe in the bunker waiting for me but that hasn't stopped the nerves making me antsy.
So, each step is a little looser, calmer. My shoulders sink back into my body and I can feel the tightness of my face relax.
Because you’re behind that door Y/N. You’re waiting for me like you have done for six weeks. You’re waiting for me like I waited for you since day one.
Except I missed the clues so I’m not prepared for what’s actually behind the door.
You’re sitting in the bed and hunched over. Your legs are swung over the edge of the bed as if you fell in place from standing. Never realizing you’re uncomfortable twisted at the waist. I’m so blinded by the relief at seeing you again that I don’t notice what’s in your hands. Not at first.
I do see the tears. Red, puffy eyes and wet streaks on your cheeks. You lift your head to look at me with none of the bright light I've waited to be blinded by. It’s this confused mix of anger and sadness instead. That’s not how you’re supposed to look at me. Suddenly I want nothing more than to beat the crap out of whoever put that on your face.
“What happened?” I’m trying, fuck am I trying not to scare you. Although I can hear the growl in my voice and feel every muscle I have tighten in anticipation. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone in the bunker. Even here isn’t safe enough for you.
You flinch away from my hand as I reach out for your shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”
And I don’t. I’ve never touched you without your permission. Yet without the distraction of you under my fingers I finally start to notice things. Like, say, the assortment of items strewn on the bed in front of you.
A hex bag. A wallet. A set of keys.
Or more precisely. The hex bag that could have saved your no good ex, the wallet of your sleazy boss and the house keys you lost five weeks ago.
I don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here. It could have been five minutes or five hours. At the very least it’s enough time for you have made some assumptions. They spill out of you without me saying another word.
“You looked after me when Carl… I know what he did but he didn’t deserve to that. But you-you looked after me. And when I came home and told you Steve was missing, that we’d all been interviewed by the police, you told me it was nothing. You said he’d probably skipped town. With-without his wallet? That you have?!”
“You don’t understand sweetheart, I…”
“I think for once I do understand. You’re a… god, you actually… you killed them and then lied to me about it.”
Angry I can fight with. Sad I can fix. But the betrayal in your voice? Damned if I know how to make that better.
You sway on your feet as you swing your body upwards in one swift, unstable action.
“Swee-” My hands are defensive and trying to stop your panic.
“Don’t you dare. I’m not your sweetheart. Never again. How can you think this will ever be ok?”
The click of the door as you open it stirs me out of my stupor. The dumb blindness that has me stuck standing and letting this play out clears. I don’t watch these things go by. And I won’t watch you leave.
You’ve left the door hanging open because you think walking out like this is an option. You think I love you enough that I’ll let you go.
It’s the exact opposite. I love you too much to ever let you go.
I catch up to you in a second and my hands have you in half of that. One hand over your mouth, because I know you’re a screamer, and a hand wrapped around your neck. I’d never squeeze enough to kill you Y/N I only need you to think I will. I need you to stop and realize that I’m doing this so we can work on this instead of giving up. We can’t give up.
“Honey, you’re gonna come with me and we’re gonna talk.”
I’m only trying to clasp my fingers tight enough to get you to cooperate and stop struggling against me. The fact that you collapse, unconscious in my arms, makes the whole thing easier.
Okay, maybe I hadn’t had your permission to do that.
There’s a room at the end of a random corridor. One of those places no one visits often, if ever, in the depths of the bunker. It’s a corridor littered with empty spaces, half-finished rooms, and useless closets. There’s a door that maybe was going to be a panic room or something. There are random pieces of comms equipment, an old leather sofa and walls thick enough to keep anything out. Or, keep anything in.
It’s not soundproof but Sam won’t hear you from his room. I can barely hear you sitting outside the room. I’m waiting till you’ve stopped screaming for help before I go in and talk to you. I guess I didn’t figure it would take this long. The bottle of whiskey in my hands is getting emptier than I care to admit while I stare at the spot you’re standing in. Where you’re banging on the reinforced metal door and screaming.
Out here it boils down to a soft thump and a quiet “help.” In there it’s furious, barely contained thunder. I get it. You’re mad. You don’t understand yet. But I’ve waited longer for less before. You’re still everything to me and I’ll wait till the end of time if I have to. I have all the time in the world.
You’d passed out. It made me sick to my stomach to see you like that but it made it easier to get you here. To this room, this place, that not even my brother knows about. You gave me time. More than enough time to lock the door, go back to the library and clear up your plate. I dogeared the page in your book too because you hate losing your place, and tucked the thing in my back pocket.
I hate it. Removing the trace of you like you don’t live here. Pretending you weren’t here to begin with. But I missed the clues before, that doesn’t mean Sam will miss them for a second time. At the very least it needs to look like you haven’t been here in a while. We need our time alone.
Finally, it happens. Maybe I closed my eyes for a minute or maybe you gave up before I finished drinking. The ‘help’ that you’d screamed becomes something else. A pleading shout in there and whisper from out here, “Dean!?”
I give it another minute. You should take a few more breaths now that you’re calm. You say it again, resigned, “Dean?!”
Fuck, I still love it when you say that.
I’m not, say, an idiot. I know that putting you in here, like this, is like trying to trap a storm in a box. A damn stupid idea. I took precautions, obviously. There’s a set of cuffs around your wrists. Not tight enough to pinch, never. But tight enough to keep your hands in front of you, for now, and make sure you’re not going to lash out when I open that door.
Actually looking at you when I slip inside is worse than listening to you out there. I stand against the door so the illusion of escape isn’t tempting you to try anything. What I never expected was the way you slink away from me. Even if I'm across the room. Your eyes widen and you cower into the corner of the couch. Never taking your eyes off me, which means I don’t miss the way they swim with fear.
“I’m not going to hurt you Y/N, I would never. Not really.”
“How long Dean?” Your body, face, features might be scared of me but your voice is as hard as the metal at my back.
“What?”
“How long are you going to keep me locked up in here like a criminal? When you’re the one who.. how long?”
I need to separate this version of you from the one who told me she loved me days ago. The only way I can manage that is by dragging my hand down my face, taking you out of my sight for a second. “This is temporary, we need time to talk. I had to stop you leaving.”
Not letting an easy nickname slip from my mouth is a very conscious effort. I’ve already seen you flinch from me once today, I don’t need to see that shit again.
“Temporary? We need to talk?” Each repetition sounds less like a question and more like bad news. You’re distracted enough by anger that you forget to be scared of me. You pick yourself up from the seat you’re in, shaking your wrists in midair. “I’m handcuffed. You put me in a choke hold Dean. You… you…”
“I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”
“Tell me you didn’t do it. Just tell me this is all some drunk nightmare and put me back in bed. Say the words.” You take another step, pleading through the metal on your wrists, “tell me you didn’t kill Carl. That you didn’t kill Steve.”
The pause is long enough for you to figure out my answer. You know the answer already.
“Technically the witch killed Carl.” A scream comes out of you, born in the depths of your soul, primal and painful. “Baby please, you gotta understand. I did it all for you. To protect you. Carl and Steve were bad news. You needed me to save you.”
“SAVE ME? DOES THIS LOOK SAVED TO YOU, DEAN?” Your connected arms motion wildly to the red around your throat and shake the cuffs for extra effect. “Carl was a cheating assface but you know what most people do? They break up with the cheating assface not have them killed by fucking magic!”
This is fine, it’ll be fine. You’re not calm yet. I tried to pull the band aid off too quickly.
“You need some time. ’S fine. You’ll understand soon.”
As my hand goes for the door your anger becomes fear. “No! Dean! Don’t leave me in here again. Please don’t leave me in here!”
Closing that door on you, hearing the heavy lock followed by your dulled sobs, breaks my fucking heart.
The next few days are harsher than I could have imagined. You refuse to look at me, talk to me, or otherwise acknowledge my existence. The blanket I bring you to sleep with gets thrown off your shoulders whenever I come in. You know, in case I find out you’ve actually been using it to keep warm. You never rush for the food or drink I bring you, electing to wait till I’m good and gone before you admit defeat and eat.
You don’t get it Y/N, I'm trying to take care of you. I’m only trying to give you the time to get your head around this. God, I wanted to give you all the time you need but now my patience is starting to wear thin.
I’ve been sitting in the room on a wooden chair, leaning against the door for an hour now. The trick is to have a book to read but yours is in my back pocket again, all I need to do is wait out your boredom.
There’s this big exasperated sigh from your direction before you say anything. “Have I behaved enough to get these off yet?”
You’re holding up your wrists, which I can see are red and angry underneath the cold metal still tugging at them. “Shit, yeah.” I prepare myself for the flinch again. It’s a pleasant surprise when I make contact with your skin and you don’t move an inch. It’s not the same as when you’d lean into my touch, not yet anyway, but this is still good. We really can get there again, together.
“Thanks.” You’re tight-lipped and the word is clipped. It’s still progress. It’s still you talking to me more than you had.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I try my luck, your icy reception to the nickname is better than it had been. “I didn’t mean to leave you in them so long, was waiting till you calmed down.” The cuffs get thrown on the desk across the room hoping that I can finally start showing you the way back to me.
You choke out a harsh laugh, “yeah, I’m the one with the problem. My boyfriend murdered two people and almost choked me to death. Sure, I overreacted.”
“But see you still called me your boyfriend.” I try my hand at being playful and I swear the corner of your mouth twitches.
“Would you believe me if I said I’m going crazy in here?” I know you inside and out so I know that you’re joking. Not only are you made of stronger stuff than that but the raised eyebrow says it too.
“Maybe I’ll bring you something to-” the end of my sentence gets lost in the blur that moves in front of me. You’re up, across the room fumbling with the handle of the door and pulling it open. My hand pushes the door closed again before you can get out into the corridor, “why’d you have to go and do that?”
You lean forward, defeated again. Your forehead rests against the cold metal that’s still held closed by my weight. “Because I don’t think you plan on letting me out of here Dean.”
“Of course I am. I still want a life together. I love you. That’s why I won’t put the cuffs back on.”
“You’re cooking? What did Y/N fall and hit her head?” I know Sam means it as a joke but he’s doesn’t understand that it’s too soon for jokes. I can’t laugh this off while you’re still locked in the depths of the bunker and we haven’t laughed together again yet. I’d love nothing more than for you to be here cooking with a smile on your face but you’re not ready to come out yet.
“Y/N’s not here.” I'm sick to my stomach lying about you. I wish I didn’t have to. Wishing is for suckers though.
Sam has one of his goddamn green smoothies in his hands, cold from the fridge, the sight of it makes me frown. It mirrors the frown on his face at you being gone. “Oh is she at work? She didn’t say she was working today.”
Days ago I’d have been feeling warm fuzzies that he cares this much about you, that he knows your schedule. I’d have been happy that the two most important people in my life are becoming important to each other. Now his questions are roadblocks. My throat itches with the lies I’m about to tell. “Actually, she went home for a while.”
“I thought she was moving in?”
“Yeah, well, she still had a few more weeks on her lease and we had a fight about some dumb shit. She’s cooling off.” Not a whole lie. In fact, none of it is really a lie. You do have a few weeks left on the house but I never said that’s where you are. We did have a fight, you are cooling off. Sam is going to piece the rest together from the way I’m staring into this pan of bacon like a sad sack of shit.
He wants to say he told me so, probably. He’s the one who asked us if we were moving too fast.
That’s not what comes out of his mouth. He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes to let me know he’s there, “I’m sorry. I know you and Y/N were happy but I’m sure she’ll come back. She really seems like she loves you.”
I must look pathetic if Sam has gone straight to talking me down from the ledge. Despite myself, despite trying to contain myself, I can’t help the way I turn my head to him, “really? You think she loves me?”
Oh god, I am pathetic. Only for you Y/N.
“Are you kidding me? I thought you had a crush and then I saw the way she looks at you.” It’s innocuous in how casual he is. Sam sees it that easily. Black and white. While I’m standing here with a slither of a doubt, that maybe you’re not the one, he reminds me that you’re the only one. He reminds me of something I’ve forgotten after days of keeping you locked up. We're meant to be.
You love me Y/N. Not because your life has got so much better since I was in it. Not because I treat you like you always hoped you’d be treated. You love me because you see me. And you’ve seen me at my worst now, that version of myself I justified being to protect you. The guy who put hands on you, albeit temporarily, to stop you from hurting yourself.
Running would have hurt you. And by keeping you here instead you’ve seen all of me. Your hero, your boyfriend and now, your protector. You loved me before and if you still love me it’s only a matter of time till we’re fixed.
Sam smiles encouragingly. The one he saves for people who are freaking out while they explain the impossible thing they saw. He even looks down at the bacon in the pan like he’s happy that I’m happy, which is never how Sam looks at bacon. The food is for you but he can’t know that.
He stops as he’s halfway out the room. “Hey, I was going to head out for a few hours this afternoon, catch a movie, you wanna come?”
“Nah, Sammy. I’m good.” An afternoon where I won’t have to explain my disappearing act to Sam.
Sam’s been gone a few hours already and other than some time when I brought you lunch I’ve left you alone so far. I gave you your book and watched your face light up like it used to when you saw me. It’s a start so I didn't push anything. Left you alone to read. Slow and steady wins the race.
Now my brother will be home soon. I want to see you again before I have to eat dinner with him and pretend everything is above board. I need my fix.
Here’s the thing that I’m not expecting. The smile on your face when I walk in. It's half convincing me that I hit my head on the hunt and everything since has been a nightmare.
“Dean! Finally, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your reception is everything I've been waiting for too. You’ve been in here almost five days now and the progress has been too slow. I was starting to worry that no matter how much I loved you maybe too much of you had been chipped away and yet, here you are. Dog-earing the page of your book and standing up to meet me. You’re shaking a little, rattled with nerves but there’s a smile on your face that tells me not to worry.
“I've been thinking and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” I’m still being careful about touching you. Your hands are trembling by your sides like you’re worried about the same thing.
You take in this big breath, “I- I think I get it now. I was hurt before, about you lying to me, and I was shocked. But then I'm sitting here eating the food you brought me and reading my book that you’d saved my place in, and something clicked. I was scared you know? Not because of what you did but scared because honestly, you’re the first person who has ever loved me this much. You take care of me, you’ve always taken care of me. And I was afraid to let you do that because maybe I didn't believe I deserved you. It's weird to say considering everything but you're actually good for me."
I close the gap between us with a step and raise my hand to cup your cheek. You lean into my touch like it’s home. “But I pulled some shit. I killed people in your name. You’ve gotta hate me?”
I’m giving you an out Y/N. This one out.
“I don’t know if it’s possible to hate you. How could I hate someone who wants to look after me like you do? Dean, I love you.” You say it softly, a whisper, a secret. Through lips that are parting for me.
Leaning down to kiss you is everything I’ve wanted to do since I got back from that hunt. This once, I let myself have what I want. My other hand comes up to hold you so I've got your whole face in my hands while I taste you again. Your lips are as soft and inviting as I remember. Your tongue is eager and this kiss? This kiss couldn’t lie. This is how I know you’re still mine. You're my perfect fit.
And then metal closes around my wrists. You’re quick and you snap the cuffs until they hurt. I didn't know you were this good a fucking actress Y/N with your mouth still pressed against mine as you trap me in.
“What the fuck? Baby?” I splutter as I stumble a little, not far back enough. In the next moment, you raise a knee to my balls and holy fuck, there's so much anger behind it. You want to cause me pain. I can suffer it from evil sons of bitches trying to kill me but you?
“You’re a monster, Dean.” You bitterly spit in my direction as I sink to my knees. “Jesus, how I could I ever love you?”
That’s the last thing I hear before a wooden drawer is smashed over my head.
Continue to Epilogue
5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage
Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer
#dean x reader#supernatural x reader#spn x reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#dean winchester x reader#spn#supernatural#spn fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x y/n#dean x you#stalker au#I don't know anymore guys this story is fucking killing me
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I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader
I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader
Part One / Part Two
Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)
Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader
A/N: I have no idea what the fuck this is. This is such a crack fic. Reader has a sister named Lidia, for reasons that I do not know.
Words without A/N: 2483
Masterlist
<———————>
"You sure you don't wanna come with, (name)?"
"No, Lidia, I'm just gonna stay here and research. 'Sides, socializing is for psychopaths."
Lidia (Last name); ninety-three pounds of redheaded sarcasm, anger issues, and badassery. Also my sister, senior to me by four years ("and three months, (name)!") Also, also, a total extrovert with a thing for trying to force her introverted little brother to socialize. Disgusting.
"C'mon, (nickname), you need to get laid! I could totally find you a pretty, butch boy and—"
"Lidia, for the last time, I'm not gay!"
For the last several years, my darling, amazing, delightful (taste the sarcasm?) big sis has been living under the (totally unfounded) belief that I am a homosexual. I don't know where she seems to have gotten that notion, as I am not. (Summer camp doesn't count, dammit!)
"Mhm, keep tellin' yourself that, lil' bro. But, fine, if you won't come with me–" she dramatically picked herself up from the seat where she'd been fancying up her makeup–"I guess I'll just have to go without you. How terrible, little old me, scared and alone, walking down the road after dark without someone to protect me," she pouted.
"Oh, ha ha, very funny. We both know you could kick anyone who tried to bother you's ass without even looking."
Giggling, she picked up her bag (and a few blades) and turned towards the door. Looking back at me one more time, she gave me a middle-fingered salute before about-facing and heading through to the outside.
"See ya later, loser," she called back before the door closed all the way.
Even though she was already gone, I still mumbled a quiet "punk" under my breath after her, before setting off to start my research.
————
Three hours, several coffee refills, a few dead ends, and one (minor) mental break down later, I was really no closer to finding the thing we were hunting, and there was a crash outside the hotel door.
Lidia had been out for a while, there was a chance it was just her returning from whatever bar she had gone to, shit faced and unable to walk correctly, therefore knocking something into the door or the like, or, my least favorite option, it was something supernatural or other here to kill me.
Moving to grab a gun, I silently stalk towards the window beside the door. There's a few more dull thuds on the door, and some odd, wounded-animal type noise comes through the wood. Cautiously, I move the curtain a few centimeters, just enough to peer through without being spotted.
There, pushed up against the door, is my sister, some idiot attached to her at the lips, with hands going places I'd rather not think about when it comes to my sibling.
Grimacing, I turn around, shove my gun into the waistline of my jeans, and move to quickly grab my laptop and a few books. Maybe if I hurry I can get out of here before they actually start fucking, this time.
Hurrying towards it, the door suddenly opens, and in spills a very shirtless (and totally not attractive, what?) man, and my sister, who was now working on pulling her bra off. They shuffle towards one of the beds, and somewhere in the back if my head I register that its my bed that they're going towards as I awkwardly move around them, trying not to alert them of my presence. I didn't wanna deal with that conversation again.
Finally getting all the way to the door, I carefully pulled it open as not to bother the two, and backed out of the doorway. Glancing up, I got a full view of Lidia's tit before I managed to actually get out of the door.
I quietly closed the door, making sure that the click of the hinges was quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb the couple inside.
Pausing for a second, I couldn't help the dramatic shiver that rattled my body.
"That is-- that is far more of her than I ever needed to see," I winced.
Turning to go find a place to settle down while my sister and the stranger... did their thing, I came face-to-face with a brick wall. Well, more face-to-chest, actually, and brick wall wasn't quite right, I guess. He was closer to a tank. Even at the few paces away from me that he stood, he still seemed incredibly tall. Long-ish brown hair curled around his ears, and his face was undoubtedly attractive. A small smile (that I definitely did not find adorable, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm totally, definitely, one hundred percent straight) tugged at full lips and his eyes stared down at me questioningly. I could feel an ugly blush climbing up my neck.
"Uh– heh, uhm, my, my– uh my–" my awkward stuttering was cut off when the man huffed a small laugh, and spoke.
"You must be the brother."
...
"Heh?" His smile only broadened at my perplexed stare and he took a few steps closer to me. I couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the guy's humongous stature, though his face seemed innocent and kind enough. Still, in my line of work, you can never be too careful. I instinctively felt my hand reach for the gun still hidden in my waistband.
"In, uh, in there," he pointed lightly at the door I'd just come out of, "my brother, he's the one with your sister. She was talking about a brother at her motel, I, uh, I guess that'd be you," he finished off, trailing out slightly as he realized he had nothing more to say. It was his turn to blush.
I let myself relax slightly, I didn't think he was so much of a threat anymore.
Smiling slightly, I couldn't not let my eyes glance over him.
Uh, in as purely heterosexual way, obviously.
His shoulders were stupidly broad, and under his denim coat I was sure there had to lay muscle. Before, when I said he was tall, I don't think you really got the full picture. The awning thing that came off the front of the hotel to protect anyone on the sidewalk was probably your standard seven foot high roof; this guys head was only a few inches under it. He was huge. His face was young, but had a whisper behind it that said that he'd seen some things someone his age generally didn't. The dimples on either side of that blindingly bright smile made him just so much more attractive, and I couldn't not find him cute. (Once again, in a totally hetero way, I'm really, definitely, completely Not Gay.)
Figuring that I couldn't stand there and gawk any longer without coming off as creepy, I finally spoke up.
"Uh, yeah, Lidia. And your brother. That was–" I shuddered slightly, "–that was a sight I never needed to see."
He chuckled slightly and took a few steps closer to me. I was still a bit wary, but I let him come closer without pulling a gun on him, anyway.
"Yeah, no, it's not pleasant. He's done the same thing to me before."
I blanched up at him (damn, he really is tall) and thought to the scene that was unraveling right inside the door. Didn't he say he was his brother? I mean, to each your own, but damn—
"No! No, not—" he cut off my train of thought, growing redder by the second. He took a few more steps forward until he was right in front of me, holding his hands up in surrender. "I mean— I meant barging into the room with a partner while I was still there like that, not-not that he's—not that he's done, done that—" I cut him off, wanting to end the poor babbling disasters misery.
Cracking a smile, I laugh gently at him and reach out to touch his arm and make him pause.
"Oh-oh, its okay, calm down man, I getcha, I getch—"
MOAN
My sisters pleasured voice cut me off and made me freeze up, my face burning red.
"Nope, nope, nopety nope nope nope, can we please go anywhere else and continue this conversation? Literally anywhere, oh my fuck, oh my—" I started walking before he could say anything, not wanting to have to suffer through another sound like that.
He chuckled again as I passed him and quickly caught up to me, reaching out to gently grab my arm before I got to far.
"My, uh– we could hang out in my room for a while. 'Till they're, ya know, done," he grimaced and nodded his head towards the room to the direct right of ours. He hadn't seemed dangerous so far, so I mean, why not?
I nodded hesitantly and let the man lead me into the room, noting the fact that his hand didn't leave my arm until the very last second.
He let me in first and closed the door softly behind us. I have never been so thankful that these walls were thicker than any other motel's walls in existence. If I focused hard enough, I could almost imagine that the faint moaning was just sound coming from the little box TV.
The room was set up pretty much the same as ours. The same, mildewy wallpaper, two twin sized mattresses on either side of the room with the same pale comforter tucked around a paper pillow. A few littler things did stick out to me, though. The pre packed buggout bags sitting right at the end of both beds, the laptop that sat on the bedside table with a bunch of papers laying haphazardly around it, a half-drank coffee cup sitting beside it. The scene seemed oddly familiar.
"My, uh," the man's voice cut off my searching eyes, "my name's Sam, by the way. I don't think I said that before." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and I definitely didn't find it cute. At all. Nope.
Sam. It fit him. I like it.
Smiling up at him, (and totally not noticing how his frame would almost take up the entire door frame that he stood beside) I opened my mouth to respond, only to be cut off again by a crash from the room next door and an even louder moan. I grimaced, the awkwardly smiled up at him once again.
"I'm (name), it's, uh, it's nice to meet ya?" How do people socialize again?
"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you, too." Well that's reassuring, at least he seems just about as nervous as I am.
He stepped forward a bit and awkwardly held his hand out to me, which I accepted with a small, close-lipped smile. The moment our skin made contact, I genuinely didn't want to let go. The warmth of his overly-large hand was intoxicating, and his touch made me oddly giddy.
Looking up into his eyes, I found, was a total mistake. A stunning mixture of smokey hazel and green, small flecks of honey dotted his iris'. His eyes seemed so deep. Seemed so much older than they really were, once again, like he'd seen far more in his life than an average man his age could ever claim. Not to be dramatic or anything, but he was absolutely captivating.
I don't really know how long we sat there and stared at each other, but by the time I finally realized how weird it probably was, and forced myself to look away, I was starting to feel a bit light headed. Let's blame that on lack of sleep and an excess of coffee, and not on whatever was causing my stomach to flutter so dangerously as it was.
"Heh," I looked down towards our feet, my face flushing dramatically. I'm sure by now I'm about as red as a baboons ass, and only flushing redder as I realized that he was still holding my hand.
"Uh-uhm, so, uh, Sam--" I stuttered pathetically, focussing on the hand that still held mine until he awkwardly let go. "--what, uh, what do you do for a living?"
And so the night kicked off just like that. Soon enough, we were both sat cross legged on the bed, sharing stories (all the ones that I could think of that didn't involve murder or monsters) and trading memories. I learned that he had planned to be a lawyer, and was almost done with his course when some unmentioned family drama popped up, and he had to take a sudden leave. I found out that he traveled for work with his brother (a sentence that seemed suspiciously familiar) and that he loved to read. He told me how his girlfriend had died in some terrible house fire only a few months before (my heart definitely didn't freeze up at the fact that he had a girlfriend, shut up) and that he still had nightmares about her. We talked for hours, and, unlike with most people, I never once got bored of it.
I really don't know how long we sat there and chatted, but, by the time the doorframe to the room was vomiting up a sweaty and slightly-drunk older brother, my eyes had started to sag with exhaustion.
"Wa-Sam-Who's this?" Dean (Sam had spoken of him frequently over the evening) slurred slightly, gazing at me with an almost accusatory look. Before I had the chance to respond, Sam was already up and talking, standing between us almost protectively.
"(Name). He's, uh, he's the little brother of the girl you...were with, tonight." He seemed uncertain at exactly what he was saying, but he got the point across.
Being as he was still standing guard in front of me like he was (why on earth was he doing that?), Dean had to lean around him to look at me, which made Sam fidget nervously, for some reason.
"Dean--"
"(Name), you should probably be headed back, it's getting kinda late and I'm sure your sisters wondering where you're at," Dean cut his brother off, leaning further around Sam to look at me. Not gonna lie, he kinda scared me. Standing, I moved to grab the things I'd escaped the room with earlier, and headed for the door, turning back to beckon Sam a good night, I caught sight of them staring at eachother like they were having a silent argument, and just darted out the door, instead of saying anything. Maybe we'd meet again one day.
The air was cold, and it had gotten very dark in the time that I was hidden away in the room with Sam. I walked briskly back to my own room, opened the door with my key, and hesitantly poked my head in, not wanting to wake my sister if she'd fallen asleep.
"So there you are, (nickname), out getting some dick, were you?"
Ugh.
#Sam Winchester#Sam Winchester x reader#Sam Winchester x male reader#Sam Winchester: a bi icon#Sam Winchester fanfic#Supernatural#fluff#I'm Not Gay
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