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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 months

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The Princess & The Playboy (Part 7)

Summary: Dean and the reader are in it now. Max and Sam are safe but how do they get themselves out of danger?

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 8,800ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Reader POV

You knew there was no way in hell either of you were going to send your brothers back to this fucked up place. Or Eric and Sloane who would surely be killed. But Dean wasn’t going to risk you either. Which meant there was one option.

And thankfully the crowd was still watching the show before them, even if it was much harder to see you and Dean behind the guards.

“Do you know what a blitz is?” you asked. Sebastian looked at you like you were nuts, momentarily distracted exactly how you wanted him. Dean threw a punch, a hard one, connecting directly with Sebastian’s nose. Blood poured out as Dean tried to hit the guard directly behind you and make a hole for you to get away. They were on him like that though, Sebastian’s gaze turning murderous.

“Take these two to my office. Figure out how to dispose of them. Find those fuckers that ran off and kill them,” he growled. He popped Dean in the face once, twice, three times, your blood boiling. You took the opportunity to kick the guard behind you while the focus was on him, chucking your heel at another guard on your left and sending your fist flying towards Sebastian’s nuts. He nearly doubled over, ignoring Dean for the moment, his attention back on you. His very angry attention.

His fist flew out fast. You’d been hit plenty of times accidentally in dance rehearsals. High kicks. Wayward hands. Hell, even Eric had gotten you in the face on occasion when you boxed. But those were accidents. Or you were wearing padding. A mouthguard.

Sebastian Monroe hit you so hard you felt your bones rattle. Your left cheek felt split open, though you doubted it was more than scraped up, a stinging pain to accompany the throbbing that echoed in your skull. Maybe a tinge of blood was dripping down your nose.

You stumbled backwards straight into a guard but had enough time to whip your head around and show your still present crowd of party goers your very clearly injured face.

“He just attacked us!” you shouted, Sebastian glowering as you looked back to him with a smirk. “The world just saw you hit the damn princess of pop on a livestream. Do a thing to us and I don’t give a fuck who you know, you’re going down too.”

“Dad, stop.” Cecilia forced her way into the crowd of people when Sebastian reached for me, smacking his hand away. She stared up at him, fury in her eyes. “It’s over.”

“Stay out of-”

“Everyone is watching. They know what she said. They saw your men move first, you attack them. No one in the world will believe that she’s drunk. Look at them.” His gaze momentarily went over her head and past the bodies in front of him to the crowd of guests nearby.

The room was absolutely silent. Three hundred pairs of eyes dead set on you, Dean, and their host with bloody knuckles. Three hundred phones aimed straight at you. Three hundred witnesses. Too many people to persuade that you’d lost your mind. Too many to convince that you were wrong. Maybe before but after decking you right in front of them? Crazy or not, that was a line in the sand he couldn’t undo.

You yanked Dean to his feet and stepped back from the guards while Sebastian contemplated his next move. He could run or fight. Try to take you and Dean again. Try to buy his way out of this mess.

But he simply stood there, staring at his daughter, as if he knew there was no good option left. He kept standing there, the room still quiet, everyone still holding their breath.

Cecilia said something you couldn’t make out, something that made him recoil as if she’d struck him. As she backed away, flashing lights filtered in through the windows, your nerves only receding when you saw a swarm of people in FBI jackets and members of your security team.

It was only then that you realized something was covering your shoulders. Dean’s suit jacket. His hand was on your shoulder, arm curled around your back. Wait, why did your shoulder hurt? And why was Dean murmuring, his lips against the top of your head?

You lifted your head, Dean wearing a sad smile. “You back with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, closing your eyes when Barry and Owen reached the two of you. They got you outside away from the very confused party guests but you had to stay put for the moment. The feds were busy rounding up every guard they could find, more and more lights flashing in the dark night, more and more cars heard in the distance.

“That was so fucking stupid of you,” said Dean, taking a seat on the front steps, guiding you down with him. His thumb grazed your jaw, careful to avoid your cheek. You smirked, Dean returning it. “You lost your cool. It was a little scary. A little hot too.”

Your eyes wandered down to the bracelet on your wrist, bottom lip wobbling before Dean was pulling you into his lap. “E-Eric taught me how to win a fight. How to beat people twice my size. How to beat a group when I was outnumbered. But the most important thing he taught me-”

“Words are your greatest weapon.” We both looked up, Eric frowning as he inhaled sharply. You eased slightly. He wouldn’t have left Max and Sam unless they were safe.

“That bad?” I asked when he knelt down in front of me, flickering his eyes up.

“I told you to always fight as a last resort, kiddo,” he whispered. “What happened?”

“She started screaming at him after the text,” said Dean, his arm around my shoulders, holding me close. “They tried to grab her after that and it escalated.”

Eric stared at Dean’s black eye and split lip for a moment, raising an eyebrow at you. “So you baited him. Smart girl.”

“Huh?” asked Dean. You pursed your lips. “What’d I miss?”

“You tossed me the phone so I could read the text.”

“Yeah? Then you left it on the table when you hopped down.”

“Not exactly.” You reached behind you, under Dean’s jacket and your tight one shoulder sleeve, pulling out the phone. You held it out to Eric, his head shaking as he saw the video was still recording. “If I was shouting and screaming, then people were looking at me but they weren’t looking at me. While Sebastian was worried about the fact that Sam and Max were apparently two very famous people’s brothers, he didn’t see me slip the phone away and he definitely didn’t see me catch him threatening to kill us on tape.”

“Hot damn,” said Dean, staring at you with wide eyes. “You came up with all that in a few seconds?”

“When Eric started working for me, he sat me down one on one and told me I could listen to him, learn his rules, let him keep me safe. Or I could not be a damsel and learn how to take care of myself and know he had my back. Pissed me off so much calling me a damsel I decided I’d show him and learn how to do his job better than him.”

“Never suspected that’s what I wanted her to do all along,” said Eric softly, surprising you by taking Dean’s cheeks in his hands, turning his face gently. “When you’re no longer concussed, which you totally are, you and I are going to start meeting for an hour a week, teach you to be safe too. Alright, sport?”

“Sport? Eric Clayton, you don’t care about me now do you?” teased Dean. Eric scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked you over quickly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone what a softie you are.”

“I really need to find a new job,” he sighed, pecking a kiss to your forehead as he stood. “I don’t think you have a concussion. A scrape and nasty bruise. Maybe that got your nose but the hospital will check. Don’t do that again, kiddo.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said, catching his hand when he headed for someone in an FBI jacket. “Are they okay?”

“We got in the car before this scumbags cronies knew what hit them. They’re both a little skinny but otherwise seemed alright. Sloane and the rest of the team is escorting them to a hospital where some agents are waiting. You two are going to have to give statements but I’m going to hand this over and check that I can get you out of here first.”

“Can you ask when we can see them?” asked Dean, Eric parting his lips, hesitating.

“Yes but…please try to understand what I’m about to say,” said Eric, squatting down in front of both of you. “When someone is abducted, and found, it’s not like a movie. They have to be checked medically. Psych evaluations. Debriefed by authorities. They have to be cleared to see their families again and the process can be…lengthy. It could be six hours, it could be twelve, it could be three days. Your brothers have been gone a very long time. There are a lot of people involved in making sure that they are as prepared as they can be to see you again. These are not your teenage brothers who were barely going through puberty when you lost them. They’re grown men. They need time to adjust.”

Dean took your hand, interlacing your fingers with a nod. “We’ve waited a long time. We can wait a little longer.”

Eric excused himself while you sat in silence together. Ten minutes ago, your brain was going a million miles an hour and now…

“We should call our parents,” said Dean quietly. “They’re going to feel so guilty for thinking they were gone.”

“It’ll be alright,” you said, Eric waving the two of you over to where he chatted with an agent. “Come on. Let’s go get you settled.”

Four Hours Later

It was a shade past midnight when you found Dean in a hospital room. It hadn’t taken long for you to discover you were trending on every social media platform. Worldwide. Your entire team showed up to the hospital along with Dean’s agent. While you were expecting them to want to spin some story, instead they came with changes of clothes for each of you and word that your parents were booked and on a private flight out to LA already.

Max and Sam had been taken to a different hospital but you knew they had federal agents with them so you didn’t worry too much.

“Hey handsome,” you said quietly, taking a seat on his hospital bed. Dean smiled in his joggers and long sleeve henley, reaching a finger out to brush your cheek. “Won’t even scar. Apparently all the plastic surgeons at this hospital were chomping at the bit to work on my face. One even offered to fix my nose at a discount.”

“I love your nose,” he said, wiping his thumb over the black and blue crossing over the bridge of it. “Not broken?”

“No. Burst blood vessels is all.” You pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie you wore and scooted up closer to him, his hand resting on your gray sweatpants.

“Oh these are soft,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not sleeping. Don’t scold me.”

“That’s more Sloane’s job, isn’t it?” you teased, Dean agreeing, fluttering his lids open. “Your parents are at FBI headquarters. Mine should be there soon.”

“S’good. Maybe they can see the guys in a few hours. Sloane said a friend in the agency gave some intel. Clean bills of health. They have some old scars on their backs and what look like a healed burn though.”

“Well if the boys want them gone apparently there’s enough plastic surgeons here to take care of it,” you said, Dean humming. You were both quiet, trying to ignore that they’d been hurt at some point. Badly. “Did she find out anything else?”

“Not a lot. They’re still undergoing their mental evals before they take them to the headquarters but it seems promising? Definitely a lot of trauma and PTSD but like the guys have likely learned how to manage on their own I guess? I mean, in my opinion we get those two into the best therapist we can find but in the meantime they’re like…doing better than expected.”

You leaned back in the bed, cramming into his side with a content sigh. “It’s because they had each other. They weren’t alone. I hope.”

“We’ll learn more the next few days, figure out what they need,” said Dean, brushing his lips over your temple. “They should live with us, not our parents.”

“I don’t disagree but why?”

“S’like Eric said. Max and Sam are not teenage boys anymore. They are both twenty eight and fuck, Y/N, they deserve to be adults. Our parents will suffocate them with concern. We can tow that line. Be there but let them be independent, let them be free. Obviously it’s their choice but with the attention that’s going to be on them, we can keep them safe too. We can show them how much fun there is to life in a way our parents can’t.”

“That makes sense. I just want them with us,” you said, closing your eyes, hoping the medicine they gave you for your headache kicked in soon. “I’m sorry I called you those nasty things.”

“It wasn’t real. All’s forgiven,” he said, his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s okay. Emma said there’s a clip going around of you going all Alpha and stepping in front of me to protect me. Apparently you are in fact, not quite the bad boy people thought.”

“We got our brothers back and I’m no longer a scoundrel? I’d call that a successful night,” he teased, adjusting himself so he sat upright. “Can you do me a favor and get me a snack from the vending machine? I need some sugar.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” you said, sharing a quick kiss. A moment later you were down the hall, grabbing a package of swiss rolls for Dean. Your ears pricked up at the sudden noise in the quiet hospital wing. The staff had blocked off a corner of it for you and currently was restricted to your people in the waiting room.

But someone was definitely making noise in a hospital room nearby.

You poked your head in a large dark room, big enough to hold eight beds. There was a grunt and you frowned. The staff said you had these rooms to yourself. They hadn’t forgotten a patient had they?

You quickly walked through the dark space, towards a dim light coming through the windows.

“Excuse me-” You pulled back a curtain, jaw snapping shut as two very naked people quickly scrambled to pull up the sheet at the end of the bed. You shut the curtain and spun around, loud shuffling occurring behind you. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

You quickly walked for the door, barely outside of it before a hand caught your shoulder.

“Y/N.” You turned and faced Eric, his tuxedo pants pulled up but buckle undone, his undershirt halfway tugged down his torso. “I uh, don’t apologize. I’m the one on duty. We are on duty. We should-”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. Eric frowned but remained silent. “I walk in on you and Sloane screwing and you apologize to me? No. Just, no.”

“We are on duty-”

“And there are how many cops and feds outside those doors over there? You know it’s safe here so don’t…” you trailed off as Sloane cleared her throat, walking out barefoot in her dress. You looked between them, Eric glancing down to stare at her hand.

He slowly laced their fingers together, sharing a small smile with her.

“Are we…good?” you asked, the two of them sharing a look and smiling, heads nodding. “Are we happy?”

“Yeah,” said Eric, not giving you the time of day as his eyes wandered all around Sloane’s face, nothing but adoration in them. “I think so.”

“Tonight was a bit of a needed reality check. We wasted a lot of time by not talking to each other. So we talked it out. We’ll talk more about it but…” Sloane trailed off, giving Eric a soft smile.

“We’re going to give us a chance.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his sole focus on her.

“You both deserve it,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Which is why Eric, you are suspended until further notice.”

He slowly turned his head, giving you his best bitch face. “You’re being checked for a concussion again because if you think I’m going anywhere after everything that happened tonight-“

“Dean and I are safe. We can’t do anything but wait for Dean to get released and then to see the boys. So you two are dismissed. Go talk or whatever you guys want. But I don’t want to see your faces-Eric!” you said when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Sloane, you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said, cocking her head. “But there’s no way in hell we’re leaving you guys.”

You frowned, Sloane slipping past you, heading for the women’s room. You gave Eric a glare, a cocky smirk staring back. “Why are you being difficult about this? We are safe. You two have been in love for years and you’re finally working it out. Take her home, Eric.”

“Nah,” he said, crossing his arms, chuckling when you huffed.

“I will fire you.” He laughed, choosing to wrap his arms around your body, giving you a tight hug. “I’m not joking.”

He hummed, ignoring your repeated grunts at him. Finally you sighed, his chest warm against your achy cheek. After a few beats, you let out a small shake, Eric kissing the top of your head.

“What did your parents say on the phone that made you cry?” You stiffened momentarily, Eric’s chin coming to rest on top of your head. “You think I didn’t catch that? I know everything that happens around here. Spill.”

“Promise me you won’t get angry because when you get angry at them you go all crazy and I need the version of you that’s like my older brother, not my scary protection agent. Please.”

“You do realize older brothers are far more protective than people in my line of duty.” You pouted, staring upwards, his finger booping your nose. Tears filled your eyes, his own full of worry. “I promise to be good. Don’t worry-”

“No it’s…do you actually care about me? Like an older brother would?” you asked quietly. He smiled, leaning back to look you up and down.

“You remember a few years ago how you thought you asked me to have sex the night of your 30th birthday? Yeah, see, you actually asked every single man on the security team and they all saw how clearly plastered you were and said no.” You blinked away your tears momentarily, holding up a finger.

“I did what?” Eric laughed deeply, rubbing your arms.

“It was a bit adorable really. But me? No, I didn’t get an ask because it would have been ‘like fucking my brother.’ I put you to bed after that. You were shaky on the details in the morning and knew you asked somebody to screw you so I took the heat so you didn’t feel embarrassed around the boys. So. Do I care about you?” He cocked his head, hiding a smile. “Yeah. I care a fuck ton. You’re my best damn friend, little sister and the world’s biggest pain in my ass all rolled into one. I love you kiddo which is why as much as I’d love to take Sloane home, she understands I’m not leaving my family alone tonight. Especially not when your parents are vile because I had a dad like that and I know how it fucks you up.”

You swallowed thickly, Eric bending down to be at eye level with you.

“Just because Max is back does not mean you have to have a relationship with them. They-”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you whispered. He furrowed his brow, Sloane’s footsteps heard behind you, coming to a stop. “They called and asked me not to tell Max what they said because…b-because I was never supposed to pick him up that day. They were. They blamed me so they wouldn’t get scrutinized. T-They blamed me and told me…for years I thought…”

You hiccuped, Eric’s grip on your shoulders hard, so hard it hurt. He was pissed. More than pissed. But his face was strangely calm.

“You punched a mob boss in the dick tonight. A very, very violent man that’s killed god knows how many people. You’re strong and you know that. I saw the tape and damn it kid, you are amazing. I am begging you, do not let these people hurt you anymore. They don’t deserve your protection. They are abusive and manipulative. My dad was the same way. Exactly the same. Don’t be like me and wait your whole life to acknowledge it. Don’t give them a second more of your time. Be a big sister instead and do what you have to in order to protect Max.”

“It’ll break his heart,” you breathed out.

“Look at his life. His heart’s already broken.” You looked past Eric and spotted Dean, green eyes downcast. “Those people told you to die. Fuck them. Max still has a family, right here. Hell, he can have my parents too. But we are not letting him go from one manipulative monster straight to another. And you already decided that, didn’t you?”

“I just…I don’t…what if he thinks I’m lying?” you whispered. Eric moved aside, Dean sighing as he gently tilted your chin upwards. “What if he picks them? They’re his parents. I’m-”

“Y/N.” Dean shook his head. “You’re forgetting something very important.”

“What?” you breathed out, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek.

“He probably remembers every single detail of that day. He knows you weren’t meant to get him. Even if you were, it wasn’t your fault. As far as we know, he’s spent a long time living with a manipulative bastard. The second they blame you to his face, he’s going to figure out exactly what life’s been like for you while he was gone. You’re not going to have to say a thing. They’re going to fuck it up themselves. All you have to do is be there for him after the fact, sweetheart.”

You nodded, Dean wrapping you up in a hug, Eric and Sloane leaving to give you some privacy. “Dean?”

“Hm?” he hummed.

“You want your swiss rolls?” He laughed and let out an agreeing hum. A moment later you were in his bed, splitting the package, a pit forming in your stomach. You left your snack in the opened plastic wrapper, Dean’s heated gaze on you when you went to the dark window. You glanced downwards to the parking lot, catching at least nine different news vans with bright lights on. “They’ll never have normal lives. Sam and Max. Even if we weren’t famous, they are in their own right. They didn’t get to be normal kids.”

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean sat upright in bed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you whispered, crossing your arms. His lip twitched up, if only for a brief moment.

“How’d you know I’d pick up on what cherry blossoms meant in that fake fight?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shrugging a shoulder.

“Because you’re smart. I trust you.”

“Why cherry blossoms?” Dean asked again. You stepped away from the window, stopping in front of him.

“Because it means a safe place to me.” He took your hands in his, stroking the backs of them with his thumbs. You met his gaze, Dean staring up with big green eyes that eased some of the worry in your gut. “My childhood house, there’s a cherry blossom in the front yard. It was weird because no one in the neighborhood had one. But we did. It was the tree that was always safe when Max and I played hide and seek. It was the finish line whenever we had races. I had my first kiss under that tree. I wrote my first song under it. The day Max didn’t come home, I sat out there for hours crying and then just feeling numb.”

The pit in your stomach rose up, eyes quickly fighting back hot tears.

“It was safe. He knew it was safe. It was always safe or home base or where he’d wait for me to get home from practice so we could play after school. So I’d sit under that stupid tree everyday for hours hoping he’d just come back to where it was home, where it was safe. To our stupid finish line.” You wiped off your face with your sleeve, Dean’s chest rising and falling slowly. “Finish Line is about that damn tree. Homebound? That tree. Cherry Lipstick? Tree. Blossom? Tree. Jungle Gym? Tree. They were all for Max. All for him just in case he heard them so he’d know. So he’d know I was still looking, that I wasn’t giving up on him. It’s the only reason I signed my first record deal at all. I thought the more popular I got, the more power and money I’d have and maybe I could find him. I thought it’d be enough but it wasn’t. It all came down to dumb luck.”

“Y/N.” Dean chuckled, pulling you down to sit on his lap. You put your arms around his neck, Dean shaking his head. “You’re the best damn big sister in the world. Max might be losing his parents but he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“I worry about things,” you said, Dean laughing again.

“No shit,” he said, his deep chuckle helping ease away some of the lingering concerns in the back of your mind. “Now sit down and relax. Tonight’s a good night.”

“I know,” you said, Dean handing you the swiss roll. You took a bite, Dean scooting back on the bed, bringing you with him. “That’s why I told security the all safe code was cherry blossoms. But I still don’t get why would Eric tell you that when we didn’t know each other much yet?”

“I think he saw the way we were together at the restaurant and that afternoon. It was probably as obvious to him as him and Sloane are to us. It’s inevitable.”

“Inevitable? Good song name,” you said, Dean grinning. “You know I totally caught them fucking in a room down the hall.”

“Eric!” shouted Dean. Approximately six seconds later he was in the doorway, gun in his hands and wide eyed. “You and Sloane, eh? About fucking time!”

“I swear to god I’m quitting this job,” grumbled Eric, flipping Dean the bird as he left.

“That’s his love language,” you said, Dean laughing. “You know what mine is?”

“Cuddles, orgasms and swiss rolls?” You looked him up and down, nodding your head. “I’m just that good.”

“Oh my god,” you said, rolling your eyes and slipping out of bed. “I’m getting more snacks, cocky bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, playboy.”

Dean POV

“Thanks,” I said the next morning at the local FBI headquarters. I was tired, my face hurt, and I definitely had a concussion which meant sitting out tonight’s game and the next few weeks worth. Y/N’s cheek had swollen to a nasty purple color but she’d gotten a few hours sleep at the hospital. I hated to see her hurt but she took it in stride, her focus elsewhere.

Sam and Max were somewhere in the building, as free men, which made my stomach do this weird flipping thing akin to the first time I’d seen Y/N. It was nerves but good ones. We’d be able to talk to the guys soon but they were wrapping up talking to some special investigator which meant Y/N and I had time to kill. While our parents were using that time to scream at each other in a conference room after I not so subtly slipped to mine about what her parents plans were, Y/N got dragged into signing autographs for the people in the office. It was fucking ridiculous and unprofessional of these people but she needed something to do to keep her mind occupied.

Which meant I had a chance to talk to someone I’d been dying to since last night.

“Hey,” I said. Cecilia looked up from the table she’d been staring at. Her pretty blue dress from last night was gone. Now she wore way too big sweatpants, an FBI shirt and had a pair of cheap flip flops on her feet. “The agent said you’re okay if I talk to you for a minute?”

She nodded, pulling her hands down to under the table. I took a seat across, giving her a smile.

“I uh, went to the LA concert at the end of August too,” I said, holding up my wrist so she could see my friendship bracelet. “That was before Y/N and I knew each other.”

She only stared, vacantly almost. Poor kid looked like she’d been up half the night.

“Why did you protect us last night?” I asked. “You stepped in and your dad just…it was like he realized it was over.”

“He was going to kill you both. He tends to do that to people.” I took my turn to stare, Cecilia sighing. “He would have, even if everyone was live streaming it. He didn’t care at that point.”

“But why would you protect two strangers? I don’t even understand how you got him to stop-”

“Just because he’s a bad person doesn’t mean I’m one.” I parted my lips, the right words to respond not coming. “It’s why I lied for Sam and Max when they slipped your guys names to the party planner. I always knew my dad was violent and something was up with them. I figured they always worked to send money to their families or he’d threatened them. But a man like my dad…”

“What he says goes,” I filled in for her. She nodded, relaxing her shoulders. “Thank you for covering for them. I’m guessing they would have been killed if you hadn’t.”

“It’s not a guess,” she said, breathing deeply. “I’m the only thing in the world my dad cares about more than keeping his power.”

Cecilia leaned back in her chair, glancing down for a split second.

“I told him if he touched either of you, touched anyone, he would never see or speak to me again. We fight enough that he knows I’m telling the truth.”

“Is that why you’re helping the feds? You hate your dad?”

She got up, pacing back and forth. “I don’t hate him. He was never bad to me. He was overprotective if anything. But he bought two boys off the black market to be slaves for him. Shit Max started working at my house two months after I was born. My whole life. My father doesn’t deserve to be free ever again. I just wish I said something sooner.”

I rose to my feet, Cecilia stopping in her tracks. I took a few tentative steps closer, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. I paused a few feet away, her short frame practically dwarfed by the large clothes, making her look even smaller.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something and I need you to listen to me, really listen.” I crouched down to meet her at eye level, finding her gnawing on her bottom lip. “It was not on you to save Max or Sam. Or even Y/N or myself. But you did. At fucking fourteen years old. You’re still a damn kid and you went way above and beyond for us. Don’t you ever blame yourself for anything your dad ever did. He might not be a good person but you are an amazing one and I will owe you for the rest of my life. I may hate your dad but I don’t hate you. Y/N and I both feel that way. I’m sure our brothers do too. Now, life is going to get rough for you because all of us are all over the news. But we’re going to help you get through it. Whatever you need, we will help. Understand?”

She nodded after a moment, her eyes still full of worry.

“They said your mom is flying over from Europe right now,” I said, going to the table and jotting down my number on the notepad in there. “This is my cell. I want you to give it to your mom when she gets in. Tell her to call me anytime, okay?”

“Why would you help me?” she asked quietly. I stood upright, handing her the paper. She took it, carefully folding it and putting it in her pocket.

“Because you’re a good kid and you can’t help having a shitty parent. Now, do you need anything while you wait for your mom?” Cecilia shook her head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Can…can you tell the guys I’m sorry? And Y/N too?”

“Sorry, no can do. You only apologize when you’ve done something wrong you see.” She rolled her eyes, quickly frowning when she realized what she’d done. “Do me a favor? Keep being a normal teenager.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Cecilia,” I said, offering her a smile. “I’m sure we’ll talk again. Maybe we can catch one of Y/N’s concerts together next year.”

She blushed and nodded. I had my hand on the door when she cleared her throat behind me. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“This is probably going to come off as super creepy but Y/N is happier with you. Take it from a teenager that’s obsessed with her. She is so much happier in pictures lately. I saw the way you stepped in front of her. You’re a good person too.”

“I try,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

I was in the hallway for less than two seconds when Sloane rounded a corner, taking my hand. “The boys are ready. They want to see you and Y/N first.”

I didn’t have time to get nervous as Sloane dragged me down the hall and back around the corner, Y/N and Eric waiting outside a door with a few agents. Sloane released me as I took Y/N’s hand, one of the agents opening the door for us.

I spotted an unfamiliar young man spinning around in a conference chair first, the room full of light from the large windows on the back wall. He had the same color hair as Y/N, his eyes filtering over and meeting mine, finding those the same as hers too.

We both looked away at the same time, my eyes drawn to the figure by the windows. Holy shit Sammy got tall. His hair was a longer and I could see the beginnings of stubble along his jaw, probably in need of a shave.

But that smile when he saw me? That was still my Sammy’s smile.

At least that hadn’t been taken from him.

“Wow. Can you believe it Sam?” asked Max, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “It’s the three time superbowl winner Dean Winchester!”

“I know! And the Princess of Pop? I think we’re supposed to be meeting our brother and sister, not celebrities. Where are those untalented hacks anyway?” teased Sam.

“No clue. Maybe we can get autographs while we wait. Our siblings definitely aren’t as cool as these guys,” said Max with a shit eating grin aimed at Y/N. He winked and she dropped her jaw. “Hiya, horse hair.”

“I don’t have horse hair you little shit,” she said, storming over, Max catching her in a crushing hug as he stood.

“Hey jerk,” said Sam as he approached me.

“Hey bitch,” I whispered, meeting him in a deep embrace. He chuckled deeply, squeezing me way too tight. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ve been dying to show you for years I ended up taller than you.” I rolled my eyes, holding him harder. “It’s alright. Only one of us could be blessed to be tall and good looking I suppose.”

“Oh I fucking missed you, you asshole,” I laughed. There was a squeal beside us, both our heads turning as Max quickly released Y/N. “Don’t break her on me, Max. I like that one.”

“Eh, she’s alright,” he said, Y/N wrapping her arms around his waist in a side hug. “A little clingy.”

“You’re a dick,” she said with a smile. “I missed you Maxie.”

“Yeah I guess I missed you too,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a smile. He gave her another squeeze and looked to me, eyes flickering down to my arm. “Nice tat.”

“Thanks. Little brothers go on the arm,” I said, Max glancing back up. “Come here, shrimp.”

I pulled him into a hug as Sam reached for Y/N, the two of them sharing some words. Max relaxed against me, letting out a very deep breath.

“You don’t know this yet but I really love you, kid.” He burrowed his head in the crook of my neck, nodding once. “You can cry you know.”

“I did enough of that over the years,” he said, raising his head, smiling wide as he looked me in the eye. “It’s just like being able to take a full breath for the first time in a long time.”

“I understand the feeling,” I said, ruffling his hair, spotting the faded bruise on his cheek. “What happened here?”

“It was part of our plan. Well…getting punched wasn’t but it was part of it,” he said. I cocked my head when Sam threw an arm around my shoulders, Y/N sneaking in between the both of them.

“Plan? All we heard was you guys slipped our names onto some guest list,” said Y/N. They shared a look, silently communicating, the sudden realization hitting me that there was so much we didn’t know.

“We’ve made…a few escape attempts over the years,” said Sam. “The last failed one was eight years ago. We knew if we tried again, it had to have high chance of success which meant outside help.”

“Because we only had one shot left and we knew both of you had some level of infamy…we always thought if we could reach out to one of you, we knew we’d be able to get out. But it was kind of impossible until we found out you were dating.”

“Seb, that motherfucker, loves the Wolves and Dean. Cecilia loves Y/N and those two had a pretty argumentative relationship to say the least. We figured if we could somehow get you guys invited to one of his parties, he wouldn’t think twice because maybe it was a way to get some good grace with his daughter and it benefited him at the same time,” said Sam. “So we risked it.”

“How’s she doing by the way? We heard Seb was arrested. She doesn’t really have anyone else beside her mom who Seb has banished to Switzerland most of the year,” said Max.

“She’s uh, alright. Pretty sure the kid is beating herself up for not saying anything about you guys, said she had a gut feeling something was always off,” I said. They shared a look again and frowned. “She’s just a kid, guys. She-”

“Cecilia is the only person we like,” said Sam with a laugh. “Trust us. She’s how we know so much about you guys.”

“She was also the only person that was ever nice to us. No, we have no problem with her. We should talk to her before we leave if we can,” said Max, Sam agreeing. “But I guess we should save the explanations for when mom and dad are here.”

Y/N’s face fell, Sam giving her a side hug. “He means my parents. Max decided they were his a long time ago cause yours kind of suck. No offense.”

Y/N snapped her head up to Max who shrugged. “They blamed you when it wasn’t your fault. Maybe they didn’t spell it out but I heard enough from Cecilia and caught enough snippets from interviews she’d watch to know that they tried to pin my kidnapping on you. I gave them up years ago. I hear John and Mary are nice.”

“They are,” she said, closing her eyes. “I was freaking out last night about telling you and…we can talk about it later. I’m sure your guys parents are chomping at the bit.”

“They’re going to smother us,” sighed Sam.

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” asked Max, giving both me and Y/N a hug, Sam completing it on my right side. “Alright. Let’s let ‘em in.”

“So why was that pass interference?” asked Y/N as we lay on her large sectional late that night watching football.

“You can’t hold the guy,” said Sam, walking around the chaise and taking a seat beside me.

“That was not a hold,” said Max and Y/N in sync.

“Yes it was,” I said, Sam echoing my sentiments.

“It wasn’t but the angle is bad,” said Eric, Sloane leaned back against his chest over on the love seat. “Aren’t you supposed to route for the Wolves by default, kiddo?”

“We are a Chiefs family thank you very much,” said Max, Sam rolling his eyes. “Oh you want to start again, Winchester?”

“We are formerly a Chiefs family, Maxwell,” said Sam, narrowing his eyes. “How many times have we been over this?”

“I am a Wolves fan when they are not playing against the Chiefs. How many times have we better over that, Samuel?” shot back Max.

“Here we thought they’d be traumatized shells of themselves. Instead you’ve been bickering over football the past decade?” asked Y/N, turning her head to look at both.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” said Sloane, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in her lap. “Although your guys psych eval report was shockingly positive. Some stuff to work through but manageable. I always figured you’d be super fucked up. No offense.”

“One of the shrink people said it’s cause we had each other,” said Sam, glancing at Max. “Healthy codependency.”

“We probably should go to therapy though,” said Max, Y/N ruffling his hair.

“Of course. When you’re ready. Take a few days before you try to start unpacking. And when you’re ready we can see a doctor about getting those scars removed,” she said. They were both quiet for a moment, Sam’s head resting on my shoulder.

“So why aren’t you at your game tonight?” asked Sam.

“Oh I wonder,” I scoffed, giving him a noogie. “Coach said if I set foot in the stadium he’d bench me the rest of the season. He’s a good guy.”

“That’s nice considering you get paid a gajillion dollars to show up, even if you’re half dead.” Sam snickered beside me, letting me pull him into a noogie.

“Probably helps that Y/N personally spoke to the commissioner of the league and threatened to pull out of the halftime show if they didn’t quote ‘Make accommodations for not only an injured top draw of the league but someone who’s personal life they’ve capitalized on all season.’ Girl don’t fuck around,” said Eric. He took a sip from his beer, Max raising an eyebrow at his sister.

“Seriously? You’re that famous?” he asked.

“She’s that powerful,” I said. Y/N tilted her head upwards, a small smile on her lips. “Excuse us for a minute.”

I took her hand, Y/N following me down the hall to her studio. Y/N slid her hands up my arm, holding on tight. “What are you thinking about big guy?”

“Do you remember last night before the party when I was talking about football?” She hummed, tracing her thumb under my black eye. “My contract runs out this year. My agent was about to start negotiations.”

Y/N pulled me over to the piano, sitting on the bench before patting the spot next to her. Slowly I sat, her right hand reaching across my body and hitting a key. She took my hand and hit the same key with it, doing it a few times.

“What are you doing?” She moved my hand down the keys, hitting another one.

“You like the piano. We’re going to have to find you a hobby in retirement and this is one we can do together.” A stupid smile spread onto my face, Y/N lacing our fingers together. “You were halfway out the door last night. Now that the boys are back…maybe you take a year, we take time with them while you figure out what you want to do next.”

“I told coach earlier this is my last season,” I said. “I need to be home more.”

“Just don’t give up what you want for us,” she said. I shrugged, turning in my seat.

“I’m not giving up anything. I’m gaining something new.” I took her hands into my lap, Y/N shifting closer. “I do want one thing though. Live life for you, not Max. He’s going to be alright. So no more songs trying to talk to him. No more pushing yourself to the extreme. Let’s start making you the priority and what you want.”

“I want you to move in permanently. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to write the sappiest love songs about you. I want to do only twenty shows next year and focus on our family for the rest. I want-”

“Damn girl, you’re greedy,” I teased. She punched my arm, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I think we can arrange those things, sweetheart.”

“Oh and I want to plan Eric and Sloane’s wedding,” she said. I laughed, tugging her into my lap, her legs wrapping around my waist. “Can you imagine? It’ll be full of like badass action movie kind of people.”

“Eric’s going to hate it. I’m in,” I said, chuckling lightly. “It’s a little presumptuous though. I mean, they started dating twenty hours ago.”

“Those two are so going to be engaged within a month.” I hummed, cocking my head. “That isn’t me saying I need…you don’t have to-”

“We don’t have to rush. Someday,” I promised.

“Someday,” she whispered, brushing her lips over mine. “So if brothers go on the arm, where do I go?”

“Where do I go?” I teased, Y/N grinning. “Oh? Do we have an idea?”

“Oh yeah I’ve got one of those.”

Reader POV

Four Months Later

You jogged down the hall of the stadium, buckets of sweat pouring off you. Even Eric was having a hard time keeping up. You kept running around a corner though, smiling when you saw an equally sweaty Dean in his uniform and pads, helmet by his side talking to Benny and Michael.

“Hey!” You ran over and found yourself in a big hug, Dean squeezing you tight. “You’re doing amazing sweetie. But you, Benjamin, are favoring your right shoulder and making a hole and the Chiefs are taking advantage. Get your shit together. He’s going out with a superbowl win, got it?”

He held up his hands, Dean chuckling to himself. “Didn’t you guys like it better before I taught her all the rushing routes?”

“She’d make a good offensive coordinator,” said Michael. “Great show out there. Normally these suck but yours was actually watchable.”

“I’ll bring you up next time,” you winked. “I’ve heard you sing karaoke.”

His face went white and you laughed, Dean kissing your sweaty forehead. “How are the boys doing?”

“Max is in a Wolves jersey. Win or lose, you get to make fun of him for switching his team after making such a big deal about it.”

“Oh I definitely will,” he said, people moving around and heading back onto the field. “Walk with me.”

You followed by his side, Dean taking your hand in his. “They seemed like they’re having a blast. They had on matching shirts making fun of us earlier so we’re going to get memed the hell out of.”

“Good. I’m glad they’re having fun,” he said, the stadium loud when you stepped foot onto the fake astroturf. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding me? I just performed at the superbowl. You’re up by ten. Our brothers are having the times of their lives. I’m pretty sure Eric and Sloane got caught on camera staring adorable into each others eyes which I’m totally printing out onto t-shirts we can embarrass them with.”

“I’m literally right here, asshole,” said Eric behind you. You spun around with a smile, Eric rolling his eyes. “You got a minute before we head back if you don’t want to miss any of the game.”

“You mean you don’t want to miss any of the game. You know I appreciate my number one fan, Eric,” said Dean with a cheeky grin. Eric flipped him off, hanging back once you were closer to security.

“Kick it in the ass, babe.” You held up your hand, Dean high fiving it before your fist bumped into an explosion, a tradition you’d started before each of his playoff games.

“Always do. Ready to have a trophy husband in about three hours?” he teased.

“Trophy husband?” you said, Dean thumbing over the heart tattoo on your wrist, his own sporting a matching one. You weren’t married. Technically. There was a time for that down the road. But you’d gotten the tattoos a few days after Max and Sam had come home. The media had guessed what it meant and landed on it was some stupidly cute couple thing. Only a few knew the true meaning.

You were his, he was yours and that was that.

“I mean you do have a cute butt. I guess you can be one of those,” you laughed. Dean grinned and pecked a kiss to your lips, a thunderous roar in your ears from the thousand of onlookers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers,” he said. You glanced down and blushed, Dean curling a strand of slick hair behind your ears. “Want to grab some chicken nuggies with me after my game? I mean, last time I was there I ran into the love of my life. Maybe I’ll see her again.”

“Yeah I think you will,” you said, kissing him quickly and winking. “I’ll see you soon, playboy.”

“See you soon, princess.” You let him jog over to his team, quickly jogging out of there with Eric by your side.

“I love your sneakers!” shouted someone as you ran through a stadium hall, trying to make it back upstairs to grab a quick shower and change.

“Thank you!” you called back, Eric shaking his head. “What?”

“I can’t believe you wore those godawful orange sneakers in front of a hundred million people,” he said. “The Winchester jersey makes sense but the shoes?”

“I didn’t do it for them,” you said, smiling when you glanced down at the shoes.

Your original sneakers from college. It’d taken some hunting down but you’d found them still in your old roommates possession. More than one of your designers and members of the team tried to persuade you to not wear them. They clashed. They were ugly. They didn’t match anything.

But you didn’t care.

While the world was watching you perform in those orange sneakers, you only cared about one person watching.

The boy that fell in love with the girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers. And that smile on his face when he saw you in them?

You’d never forget that smile for the rest of your life.

___________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months

Text

Still Love Me?

This will fill the "I want you to leave marks." space on my @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be bolded.

Summary: Y/N wants to help Dean deal with the mark - in whatever way he needs.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Pretty much all just very filthy smut. MOC!Dean. He is harsh, and fairly brutal. Hard, rough, brutal, unprotected P in V sex. Pain/pleasure dynamics (all consensual). Spanking (brief). Tit slapping. Throat fucking. Hard, rough fingering. Spitting. Spit as lube. Brief anal fingering. Name calling. Face slapping (just once) Choking. Oral (f. receiving.) Brief orgasm denial and overstimulation. Reader tied up. Dom/sub vibes. Dom drop. Also angst. Soft Dean. Aftercare. And believe it or not, some fluff.

Pairings: MOC!dean x Reader (You)

Word Count: 5,074

A/N: Blame this fic on raging hormones, and a rewatch of S10. 🤷‍♀️ All I'll say is, heed the warnings. ⚠️

The beautiful dividers used here are created by @talesmaniac89

You awoke from a dream that you immediately forgot, reaching for Dean beside you. But he wasn’t there. You sat up quickly, surveying the room in the dark, and seeing no sign of him.

You stood up and grabbed Dean's white button down that he’d worn earlier in the day before carelessly draping it over the arm of the chair. He never put his clothes away. A little imperfection of his that made you love him even more, even if it also made you wanna pinch him sometimes.

“The drawers are RIGHT THERE.” You’d remind him, frustration leaking from your pores. Inevitably he’d smile his charming, irresistible smile and nuzzle his face into the side of your neck, licking and nipping at you and rubbing his scratchy scruff against your sensitive skin, making you giggle and shiver.

“Still love me?” He’d ask teasingly, his little boy expression making you fall in love with him all over again. Every time.

But under his teasing - no matter how minor your annoyance with him was, or how happy he was in the moment - beneath that you could always see his genuine fear that one day you’d say no.

Dean Winchester broke your heart sometimes.

You padded out of the bedroom in only Dean’s shirt; Sam was away in Lebanon for the night, having finally asked out a waitress he’d liked for more than a month. He’d texted earlier to say not expect him home before tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.

Go Sammy! you thought with a smile.

You wandered down the bunker’s hallways, checking for Dean in all of his usual haunts; the kitchen first, naturally, but also the library and war room, the Dean cave, the shower room, though you didn’t hear a shower running. Beginning to get a little worried, you decided to check out the basement. As you came to the bottom of the staircase you heard grunting coming from down the hall and frowned.

It sounded like it was coming from the gym. You went to investigate, although you began to suspect why he was awake and hitting a punching bag in the gym in the middle of the night. You walked into the dimly lit gym and stopped to gaze at Dean in awe.

He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and no shirt, a sheen of sweat covering his skin as he moved from foot to foot, pounding on the two hundred pound heavy bag in front of him. Each punch was landed with a grunt of effort, and sometimes his hands moved in combinations too quick for you to follow. He was an extraordinary fighter, beautiful and graceful, and extremely powerful.

You didn’t get to spy on him for very long. His instincts and sixth sense tended to border on the prescient, so he quickly turned towards you, his face relaxing somewhat as he saw that it was just you. He pulled one of his ear buds out with his taped up hand, breathing heavily. You could hear screaming metal music tinnily coming through the tiny speaker before he shut off the music and stuffed the headphones into his pocket

“Y/N. What are you doing up?”

You smiled and walked towards him. “I woke up and you were gone, so I came looking for you.” You came to a stop in front of him and reached out to wrap your arms around his neck, but he pushed your arms away and stepped back quickly. You frowned at him, more confused than hurt.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, nothing. Sorry, I just…” he swept a hand across his chest. “I’m all sweaty and gross. Trust me, you don’t wanna be near me.”

You chuckled and gave him a mischievous grin. “Been around you all hot and sweaty plenty of times, Winchester; hasn’t bothered me yet.”

But when you closed in on him again, he backed up further, holding up a hand. “Y/N stop it!” He barked at you.

This time his anger at your approach and his obvious disinterest did hurt you a bit, but once again, you thought you knew the problem. You frowned at him.

“Okay. Talk.”

But Dean just shook his head. “Look, I’m just…I just wanna finish my workout…and, you know…” he trailed off.

You put your hands on your hips and tilted your head at him. “You wanna finish your workout? What are you Sam all of a sudden?” You said with a chuckle, trying to lighten his dark mood.

But he remained dark. His green eyes were hard like flint and his jaw ticked. You began to notice a sort of dangerous, menacing energy rolling off of him. It was the kind of energy, you had to admit, that would make you turn and run in the other direction if you didn’t know and love him.

But his mood wasn’t at all surprising. You’d suspected all along what woke him, why he was down here, and why he didn’t want you close to him. You looked at the mark that sat like a scarred brand on his inner right forearm and felt your stomach clench. You reached out to touch it but Dean yanked his arm away.

“The mark acting up?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as though you were discussing a toothache instead of the curse that had turned him into a demon once already. You knew it had been getting worse in recent weeks. He used to talk to you when he woke up from a nightmare brought on by the mark, but lately he’d been just brushing them aside.

“Same as always.” He answered now, as he’d answered many times before.

You shook your head. “Don’t do that, Dean, please. Tell me what you dreamt. Talk to me about what you’re going through. I wanna help.”

Dean shook his head and laughed humorlessly. “You can’t help, Y/N, and I don’t…” He ran a hand over his face and then turned back towards the bag. “I don’t want you around me when I’m like this.” He said, before landing a blow to the heavy bag that made it swing back and forth.

You swallowed and tried to ignore the primal part of you that tended to get animalistic when he was like this. Your body flushed and your core muscles fluttered whenever you could see that hard, hot, hungry look come into his eyes.

You knew it scared him and you wanted to support him; you wanted him to know you'd always believe that underneath everything he would always be the same good, loving, kind man you'd known all these years.

But sometimes he exuded so much raw masculinity and virility, that it was like a siren song, pulling you in and you were more than willing to risk being dashed upon the rocks if it meant feeling that energy, that power, vibrating around you.

You stepped closer to him and he backed away again, but you pursued him across the gym floor. He scowled deeply at you, nostrils flared.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing? I told you, you shouldn’t be around me right now.”

You shook your head. “You’re wrong, Dean. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here if you want to talk…or…anything.” You said, voice laced with too much meaning for Dean to miss it.

Again his jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked down your body, obviously enjoying the sight of you clothed in only his shirt. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you're asking for, Y/N.”

You stepped closer to him, pushing him back against a stack of mats. “I think I do. I know you wanna fuck me, I know your body is as hot and aching as mine.” You reached up to wrap your hand around the back of his head, playing with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m here for you, for whatever you need. If you want to expend some of that excess energy, I’m right here - ready to go.”

The only sound in the room was the rough, shallow breaths coming from both of you. Suddenly, quick as a flash, Dean’s hand shot out to bunch your shirt (his really) in one fist and wrench you closer to him.

“You’re not listening to me, Y/N. Two hours ago I was dreaming about slicing people up, pulling them apart with my bare hands. That violence, the lust, the pounding need to destroy something is still pumping through my veins. I want to fuck something or break something or maybe both.” He dropped his hand from your shirt and pushed it through his hair. “So get away from me unless you want me to do something we’ll both regret.”

Your blood was pumping so hard in your veins, you were surprised Dean couldn’t hear it. You licked your lips and shook your head. “No. I won’t regret it. I want you to use me, I’m here for you, I’m giving you permission to use me…however you need.” You paused for a beat before admitting, "I want you to leave marks."

Dean’s face was almost feral in its intensity and you felt the slick begin dripping down your inner thigh.

"You don't really mean that, sweetheart." Dean grit his teeth, and spoke in a growl.

"Don't I?" You whispered.

You unbuttoned the few buttons holding his shirt closed and let it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but a white, lacy thong. Dean clenched his fists over and over as his burning hot gaze scorched you completely.

"Last chance, sweetheart. Run." He warned, his voice low and slightly ominous, causing you to shiver.

You shook your head. "No." You said simply; anything more was beyond you at the moment.

A split second passed before Dean pounced. He grabbed you roughly by the throat and landed his open mouth on yours, sweeping his tongue inside. His body radiated restrained power as he kissed you, consumed you. Moving down from your mouth he sucked on the skin below your ear, beginning to make the marks you wanted to see in the mirror the next day.

He broke away from you and pulled you aside so he could yank down one of the mats from the pile, and toss it on the ground.

"Get down." He ground out, before pushing you to the mat when you didn't move quick enough.

He towered above you, staring down at you as he slowly pulled the tape off his knuckles. His eyes were dark, and wild and made your body shiver slightly in anticipation.

"Take off your panties. I want you on your hands and knees." He told you when he was finished. "I'm gonna fuck you into oblivion." He pushed down his sweats, making you moan deeply as you saw he wasn't wearing underwear.

You reached for his rock hard cock, but he slapped your hand away, kneeling down and manhandling you into the position he wanted you in before tearing your panties from your body.

He set you on your hands and knees and pushed against your back until your cheek was pressed tightly against the mat. The position left your ass and pussy completely exposed to him and he took immediate advantage of that, roughly driving three fingers into your dripping hole.

A cry escaped you and he growled deep and harsh, clearly enjoying the sound. He chased it again by pulling his fingers out and then slamming them back into you, even harder.

"Unf - fu-huck." You gasped out, your whole body vibrating with need. He pulled out and added his fourth finger, ramming into you and forcing your cunt to stretch wide. With most of his hand sunk deep inside your pussy he pressed against your g-spot and made you scream.

He pulled back from the sensitive spot and then punched back into you so hard he almost knocked you over. But he grabbed onto your hip in a bruising grip. His hand was so big, his blunt fingernails dug painfully into the crease of your thigh.

Buried deep inside your cunt he turned his hand so that his thumb could circle the tight, puckered hole of your ass. His hand moved from gripping your hip to spreading your cheeks open.

He spit onto the ring of muscle and you gasped. You had no experience with anal sex, and your stomach flip-flopped half in fear and half in excitement. He spit on you again, rubbing his saliva over your hole with his thumb before breaching it, pushing just the tip in at first. He pulled out and then pushed back further, to his first knuckle.

The sensation was strange but pleasurable. He pushed his thumb in as far as he could and the unfamiliar stretch burned. He moved his other hand forward and began to push in his other thumb. He spit on you again to lube up the way for his probing fingers. As he pushed both thumbs in completely he pried you open slightly, stretching you and making you whimper, half pain, half pleasure.

You felt stuffed full of him, both holes stretched open and stinging. Then he pushed his fingers against your sweet spot again, rubbing and pressing there until your walls clenched tightly around him as you exploded, yelling out a rough, ragged sound of pleasure.

As you were coming down, he pulled his hands out of you and stood up. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking on it hard and making you cry out in pain as he used it to pull you to your knees.

Without pausing, he wrenched your head back so your face was turned up to him. Then his hand came down across your cheek, stinging sharply.

"Open your fucking mouth. I wanna make you gag."

You did as he said immediately, feeling your belly clench in spite of the pain, or maybe because of it. He shoved his cock roughly down your throat, getting what he wanted as you choked around him.

He pulled out and cum and spit dribbled out of your mouth before he pushed back in, even further down your esophagus. He took his free hand and ran his thumb over your bulging throat.

He pulled out again, letting you barely catch your breath. You coughed hard, your throat already aching from being used so roughly. But Dean held your head in place by your hair and shoved himself in again, until he was fully seated in your throat.

You gagged around him over and over, but he just wrapped his big hand around your throat and squeezed, gripping his own cock buried deep inside. His fist squeezed tightly and you stopped gagging simply because the immense pressure of his fist allowed for no movement.

You began to see black spots moving in around the edges of your vision before he finally let go and pulled out his cock. You coughed horribly, raspy, gravelly sounds emanating from you as you struggled to bring oxygen into your lungs.

Before you really had time to recover, Dean yanked you to your feet, his hand still bunched in your hair. Your legs were wobbly, but he pulled you over to one of several workout benches around the room and pushed you down over it, finally letting go of your hair.

"Don't move." He told you; his voice was dark and sinister and made you start shivering. Your body was aching, but also humming with need.

You couldn't see what he was doing behind you but suddenly his mouth was buried in your pussy, his hard tongue penetrating you.

"Dean!" You screamed out, and it hurt your raw throat, but you couldn't help it as his delicious mouth sucked and licked at your throbbing cunt. You wriggled against his mouth and he pulled away making you whimper with want.

Then you felt his palm crack hard and heavy against your ass and your whimper turned into a gasp and then a moan of pain as he delivered a second blow, making heat bloom and spread across your cheeks.

"I told you not to fucking move." He growled at you.

You nodded your acknowledgement, a whine leaving you as he returned to pulling you apart on his tongue. You tried hard to stay still, but as he pulled your clit between his swollen lips, you instinctively pushed back against him.

He pulled away again and you knew you'd messed up. He lifted you off the bench easily and brought you back over to the mat on the floor. He threw you down on it and walked away.

He returned quickly, carrying three long skipping ropes. He got down and knelt over you, one knee on either side of your hips, and grabbed hold of your hands, using one of the ropes to tie them tightly in front of you. Then he stood up and pulled on the rope until your hands were stretched out above your head. He tied it off to something, making it impossible for you to move your arms.

Next he tied the two other ropes to your ankles and stretched your legs wide, making sure your restraints were taut enough that you had absolutely no chance of movement.

He stood over you again, admiring his handiwork, and watching the need spasm across your face. You called out to him, desperate for him to relieve the pulsing ache in your pussy.

"Dean, please. Please."

He gave in to your pleading and laid down to bury his face in your cunt once again. Your complete inability to move made the teasing, sucking and fucking of his mouth nearly unbearable. He put his big hand flat on your lower belly so you couldn't lift your hips even a little.

You were completely at his mercy as he tortured you with aching, all-consuming pleasure.

You were screaming now, over and over, just harsh, guttural shouts of desperate need. It was the only outlet you had, the only way to express the overwhelming ecstasy Dean was pulling from your exhausted, trembling body.

He spread your lips wide with his thumbs and flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth against your clit, pulling back again and again when your climax was about to take over. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your arms and legs pulled uselessly against the bonds Dean had tied so tightly.

Finally Dean sat up and then moved up your body. He cupped your tits in both hands and squeezed hard, his fingers digging into the soft flesh without mercy, making it feel as though they were being crushed by a vice. He let go to twist your nipples with his strong fingers, making you cry out in pain again. Or maybe it was pleasure. At this point it was almost impossible to tell the two apart.

Dean let go of your nipples and then began going back and forth between your tits, slapping each of them over and over, with sharp, strong, stinging blows. You knew the punishment he was dolling out would likely leave them raw and aching, with bright red marks as evidence of Dean's lust and need for violence.

Finally, he left them throbbing as he grabbed your throat. He didn't squeeze hard, but the threat was there. He hovered above you and then spit in your face. Warm and thick, the saliva slipped down your cheek and Dean shook your head back and forth.

"Open your mouth, bitch." You followed his order immediately, your cunt clenching around nothing at his name-calling. He spit into your open mouth twice and then slid his hand up from your throat to clamp your jaw shut.

"Swallow it." He ordered harshly and you did. He kept your jaw clamped tight in his fist, so that you could only scream quietly through clenched teeth when he was suddenly fucking up into you, rough and fast. He was so big, and so hard, and he went so deep inside you it felt like he'd tear out your guts.

And yet you wanted more.

Letting go of your face to raise himself up like a push up above you, he forced his way forward , pushing out every ounce of power he had in his hips, to rut powerfully and unendingly into your cunt You came three more times as he continued to pound away at you. He fucked you for so long and jackhammered into you so rough, that your pussy ended up raw and painful as he continued to fuck you. You could feel the damage he was doing to your cervix, ramming into it over and over, leaving it bruised, and making your body ache and throb even on the inside.

And yet, despite all the pain and your complete and utter exhaustion when he gripped your chin in his hand and demanded you open your eyes and look at him, you did so.

"Give me one more, slut. Squeeze me hard one more time and I'll spill so deep in you, you'll feel me leaking out of this pussy for days."

You felt your belly clench seconds before you gave him what he wanted, your walls spasming around him once again as you shook with your release.

Dean yelled and cursed as he followed through on his promise, muscles straining above you as his hips stuttered and lost rhythm, and his thick, burning hot cum shot into your womb. He seemed to cum forever, more and more of his seed painting your walls as he shook above you.

Finally he ended with a groan of repletion and landed on top of you. His heavy weight was a lot for your aching body to take, and every part of you throbbed.

He eventually rolled off of you and you thought he might have drifted out of consciousness for a few minutes. You may have done the same if the painful ache pulsing through you would have let you.

As you lay beside him, still unable to move because of the ropes tying you in place, you thought about how Dean had used you, just as you'd told him to, marked you as you’d begged him to. Ordinarily Dean was the gentlest of lovers, almost reverent, and he always made your body hum and glow, plucking at you in that perfect way that only he knew.

But tonight had been something else entirely. There had definitely been times when sex between you and Dean had been a bit more athletic and acrobatic than other times, but it had never been anything like this. You decided that although you certainly wouldn't be able to do this every night, it had been an incredible, pleasurable, hot and thrilling experience, that you wouldn't mind trying again sometime.

Your body throbbed and you amended your thought. Yes, with a lot of recovery time in between.

Finally, Dean stirred beside you and then turned his head to look at you. It seemed to dawn on him slowly that you were still trussed up, but when it registered completely, he leapt up.

"Shit, Y/N I'm so sorry." He said, untying the ropes around your ankles and wrists. He helped you sit up and you couldn't help grimacing and letting out a sharp cry of pain as you put pressure on your overused pussy, and never-before-fucked asshole.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." You heard the heartbreak and guilt in Dean's voice and you shook your head vehemently, wanting to immediately nip those feelings in the bud.

"Dean, no, I'm fine." You said, but your throat ached and sounded raw as you spoke, making more remorse cloud his expression.

You tried to tell him again, but he just shook his head at you and pressed his lips gently to your forehead.

"Shh, don't try to talk baby. Just put your arms around my neck."

You did and he lifted you easily from the ground. You tried desperately to curtail your groans and gasps of pain, but you weren't always successful as he walked with you slowly down the Bunker's hallways trying not to jostle you.

Eventually, he brought you through the tiled shower room, and into the back area where a wide, deep bathtub, set into the floor and shaped like a hot tub, was waiting.

He carried you down into the pool-like bathtub and sat you on one of the benches built into the side of the tub. You shivered at the cold tile and Dean nodded.

"I know, baby. I'm gonna fix that right now." He moved over to the big taps, sliding the drain closed, and then turning the water on, letting the gushing, warm water pour into the tub.

He climbed out and gathered up some things as it filled, covering you slowly in heavenly warm, soothing water.

When it was full, Dean returned to set the things he'd brought down beside you on the edge of the tub. You saw he'd brought over your coconut body wash, as well as your shampoo and conditioner. He also had an exfoliating mitt, and a handheld massager.

He climbed into the tub beside you and simply pulled you into his lap. He held you like that for quite a while, running gentle fingers up and down your skin - on your arms, your legs and your back. He used the water to let his hands glide over you smoothly.

Eventually he turned you so your back was to him, and he began washing your hair. The same fingers that had gripped it so tightly and pulled it so harshly earlier, were now gently massaging your scalp with careful, circular movements.

When he rinsed all the shampoo and conditioner out of your hair he put on the exfoliating mitt which didn't really fit his big hand, but it worked well enough for him to squeeze some body wash onto it and begin to ever so gently exfoliate your skin. When you were covered in sudsy body wash he picked up the massager and began to run it over your body, applying the perfect pressure to the little wheels as they rolled over you, kneading your aching muscles with a beautiful kind of relief.

Finally Dean put the massager down and used his hands to scoop water up over you to rinse everything away. He lifted you out of the bath and wrapped you in a towel, leaving everything where it was so he could carry you to your bedroom and set you on the side of the bed.

He grabbed your lotion off the dresser and after toweling you dry, squeezed some of it into his palm and began to apply it to your skin.

You shifted to lay back against the pillows and he moved with you. He'd spoken very little this whole time, just soothing, nonsensical words and the odd direction here and there, to lift your arms or tilt your head forward.

You felt like you were moving through a sleepy, peaceful fog as he tended to you, and you sighed deeply and closed your eyes. You must have dozed off because when you woke up the light was low in the bedroom, and you wore one of Dean's band t-shirts. Your blanket was also pulled up and tucked around you.

You looked for Dean beside you but he wasn't there. Then you looked up and sighed in relief as you saw him sitting at the desk with an elbow resting on it and his head held in one hand.

As you watched, you saw him reach up and brush his fingers across his cheek. Your heart cracked when you realized he was sitting alone in the semi-darkness, crying.

"Dean." You called out to him and though your throat still sounded a little rough, it felt much better.

He looked up and quickly ran a hand over his face, obviously hoping you hadn't seen his tears. He came to sit beside you on the bed and brushed your hair back off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear.

"Hey sweetheart, what do you need?" He asked as he poured you a glass of water from the decanter he had sitting there. You took a sip and the cool water was delicious and reviving. You sat up a bit more, hiding your grimace, but Dean saw it anyway.

"Don't move too much, baby."

You shook your head at him, feeling the guilt pouring out of him. "Dean, I'm fine."

His jaw ticked and he picked up your hand to run his finger over the purple bruises that marred your skin from where you strained against the ropes.

"No, you're not." He raised his head and then tilted your head back gently so he could see the bruises that undoubtedly adorned your throat from where he'd squeezed it so tightly.

Tears clogged his voice as he pulled his hand away from you and then shifted backwards, putting distance between you both. "Look at what I did to you, Y/N." He shook his head as you tried to interrupt him. "And I liked it. I…fucking hell." He cursed and turned his head away from you.

But you reached up and turned his chin back towards you. "So did I, Dean. I liked it too." He stared at you and you nodded trying to make him listen to you. "All of it. Yeah it was painful at times, but it was also hot as fuck, and I loved it. Might be a while till I'm ready to do it again, but, I hope we will."

Dean's expression told you he desperately wanted to believe you. You leaned forward and kissed his lips, petal soft and then pulled back to run your hand over his cheek. He leaned into the caress and then opened his eyes and his gaze was afraid.

"Still love me?" He asked, fearfully.

Your heart broke a little and you kissed him again, before staring deep into his eyes, making sure he could see the truth reflected in yours. "Dean Winchester, I will love you every single day for the rest of my life."

He let out a deep sigh and seemed to accept your words as the truth. You smiled at him and spoke against his lips. "Maybe even a little longer."

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

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3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

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4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

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#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #heed the warnings

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hxzxrdous · 1 year

Text

The School For Good and Evil

Platonic Lady Lesso x Never!reader

TW: Mentions of grooming, sexual abuse, minor kissing an adult, Lady Lesso being a bitch and then a mother figure. Doom Room hhh, what more can I say?

SPECIAL

"... Now ..." Lady Lesso paused for a dramatic effect, "I want you to dazzle me with whatever your unique talent to be," she said, twirling around her cane as she walked around the classroom, pointing with her cane to each student at a time.

You sat right in the back, hoping the class will end before she got to you, until you heard your name. Your heart dropped in your chest.

"Well, Y/LN, don't keep us waiting, let's see what you are capable of," Lady Lesso crossed her arms.

You hesitated. You knew that Lady Lesso was well-known for her harsh critiques, and you didn't want to be on the receiving end of them. But you also knew that you needed to be honest.

You gulped down nervously. You were toasted. Not toasted... fucked. You were absolutely fucked.

"I- Uh- I haven't been able to discover my special talent... ma'am," you looked down at the desk, suddendly the crack in the wood became very interesting to you.

"Y/LN... look at me," the dean spat out.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," she demanded again after you ignored her.

You slowly looked up at the dean's cold eyes and quickly averted your gaze to her hair instead.

Lady Lesso's eyes narrowed at you. She could sense that your lack of talent was a sore spot for you, and she was in no mood for weakness.

"So you mean to tell me, that the second half of semester will soon start and you still haven't found your talent?" Lady Lesso spoke in a condescending tone.

"Weak, lazy, arrogant... Because of students like you, Evil never defeats Good and I just have to work the students twice as hard." Lady Lesso said and pointed towards the door with her cane. "Out, now."

Lady Lesso's words hit you like a punch in the gut. You knew your failure to find your talent was a big deal, but you had never expected to be kicked out of the class for it. Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you felt like you were going to collapse.

You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you turned to leave. You couldn't believe how quickly Lady Lesso had made you feel like a complete failure. It felt like the whole class was watching you as you walked out of the room, your head hung low.

As you stumbled out of the classroom, you struggled to hold back your tears. You have never felt more humiliated in your life. As you made your way down the hallway, you tried to figure out what to do next.

Suddenly, you were grabbed from behind and spun around. It was Lady Lesso, looking even more furious than before.

"Come with me," Lady Lesso snarled, pulling you along behind her. "You're coming to the Doom Room."

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. You have heard of the Doom Room but you have never imagined that you would end up there.

You walked in silence for a while, Lady Lesso's tight grip on your wrist the whole time. Finally, you arrived at a large, ominous door with the words 'Doom Room' engraved on it. Lady Lesso swung the door open and pushed you inside, grabbing you and tying you down to the chair on a small podium.

You looked around the Doom Room in horror. The walls were lined with grim-looking weapons, and there were strange objects hanging from the ceiling. It was a place of fear and punishment, and you could feel it in your bones.

"Absolutely and utterly pathetic." Lady Lesso looked down at you, her stern expression unchanged.

"Now... let me see you hands." Lady Lesso demanded, holding a whip in her hand.

You gulped down in fear as you reached out you arms, waiting for her to strike.

"Aw, is the little bitty baby afraid of me?" Lady Lesso asked, her tone disdainful holding the whip above you.

"Wait! I do have a special talent-" you blurted out.

She looked at you, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, really? And what it might be? Please, do enlighten me." The dean approached you, your faces just inches away from eachother.

Without warning, you leaned in and kissed her.

It was a small kiss, just a peck on the lips, but it was enough to take Lady Lesso by surprise. It was a sign of affection, a sign of intimacy, and it felt wrong coming from someone as young as you. For a moment, Lady Lesso didn't know how to respond but then she stepped back. "You! You have a lot of nerve doing something like that in my school." Lady Lesso raised her voice.

"I-I-I am special," you stammered. "I just needed you to know that."

Lady Lesso's eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" she asked.

You took a deep breath. You knew you were taking a huge risk by admitting what you were about to say, but you couldn't help youself anymore.

"It's my mother's boyfriend," you said. "He keeps telling me how special I am when I do that... So I just wanted to prove to you that I am special." You mumbled.

Lady Lesso walked around you for a moment, thinking of what to do with you. She put her hands on her hips. She was speechless. For the first time in her life, the dean of the School for Evil was speechless.

As Lady Lesso stood there, her anger turned to sympathy. It was clear that you had been subjected to a kind of abuse that Lady Lesso had never even heard of before.

"You poor child. Your mother's boyfriend have done some terrible things to you, didn't he?" Lady Lesso dropped the whip to the corner of the room.

You shook your head.

"No, ma'am. He's not horrible. I thought so too, but my mom said he's just being fatherly and I'm just sensitive and overeacting. So I guess I got used to it."

"What kind of mother would allow such a thing to happen... She must be crazy." Lady Lesso sighed in annoyance and looked at you. "Now, tell me, how many times have this happened?"

"H- happened what, ma'am?" You asked, avoiding eye contact with Lady Lesso.

"Your 'special talent', Y/N. How often do you do it?" The dean gave you an intimidating but sympathetic stare. It was clearly that your excuse of a mother had let you be groomed and abused by that man.

You shrugged your shoulders, thinking for a moment. "I lost count. It started three years ago," you answered thruthfully.

"And I'm guessing you don't like it when he does that?" Lady Lesso asked, leaning against her cane, staring at you with her eyes half closed, waiting for your reply.

You looked down, shaking your head.

Tell me, is that his only way of 'showing love' to you?" Lady Lesso's voice suddendly sounded kind and caring.

"Well... I- Um... he buys me stuff... and he says I'm pretty- A- and he says he wants to marry me as soon as I turn eighteen..." You answered.

"That's abuse..." Lady Lesso shook her head in sorrow. "You're being abused and don't even realize it... No, no, that is not love. He's a terrible man and your mother is as wrong as him for allowing such terrible things to happen to you."

"It's not your fault." Lady Lesso kneeled infront of you, untying you from the chair.

"I am going to ask you just this once, Y/N... And I want you to be completely honest with me, can you do that, sweetheart?" Lady Lesso gently lifted your chin up.

"How far has he gone?" She whispered.

Silence. Only tears flowing down your cheeks.

"It hurt- It hurt so bad- I- I tried to stop him- I tried to fight- I really did-" you whimpered.

Lady Lesso sighed and closed her eyes.

"B- but- he said he loved me- A- and he said I was special- He lied? I- I'm not special?" Your breathing quickened as it dawned upon you. "A-and my mom knew and didn't do anything?"

"Love shouldn't hurt. If your 'loved ones' are hurting you, then they don't love you, and you deserve to be loved, you deserve to live without fear, to be happy." The dean helped you stand up from the chair.

"Listen to me. You ARE special, you ARE loved. You deserve happiness, not pain, no one deserves pain. You need to understand that, okay?" She pulled you close, stroking your hair. "And your mother. If she's not doing anything to stop that horrible man... then she's just as guilty as him. And I'm so sorry, darling." She continued.

You started sobbing. You were so stupid. How come you didn't know that? You just now realized the truth. The reality of the situation. All the lies. The illusion.

"Perhaps I was too harsh with you." Lady Lesso sighed as she held you close to her. "It is just that you need to do your best here and I was afraid you weren't taking this seriously enough. That you were lazy. But I see now that I was mistaken. I apologize for the harsh words, okay?" Lady Lesso spoke softly, whispering words of comfort.

"I- And I'm sorry I kissed you, ma'am." You replied, your cheeks turning red.

The kiss was something Lady Lesso hadn't expected or liked. But looking at you, all confused and scared, she found she couldn't possibly stay mad at you. "I accept your apology."

Lady Lesso kissed the top of your head. "So, how about we get out of this place and move to my office and find your talent together, hmm?"

#lady lesso #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #the school for good and evil #sge #sge netflix #sge fanfiction

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mochinek0 · 1 year

Text

Daminette December 2022: 31-New Beginnings

Damian sighed. He was already loathing the thought of school. It wasn't the thought of the girls who threw themselves at him or a test he hadn't studied for; No, he had lost a bet.

Jon was already smiling as Damian exited the car.

"As per the rules of the bet," Jon announced, "had I lost, I was to sneak into Pa's sanctuary and take a picture as proof. Since you lost,-"

"I have to make a 'flirty comment' to the first girl I see." Damian continued.

"Once you are inside the school." Jon stated.

"Right." he grumbled.

'Let's just get this over with. Whatever stupid girl that becomes infatuated with me and follows me, I can just tell her it was part of a bet. That should get her to leave me alone.'

Damian and Jon walked into the school. Damian quickly turned around to see what girl would be coming next up the stairs.

"How was Heaven when you left it, Angel?" Damian questioned.

'That should suffice. It sounded like some ridiculous thing Grayson would say.'

Damian already opened his mouth to mention it was just part of a bet. He expected her to throw herself at him, ask him about when they could date, but he never expected to see her glaring at him. He hadn't remembered seeing a girl with eyes this blue before.

She pointed at him and jabbed him in his chest, "I will snap you like a twig. Never speak to me like that again."

'An accent?'

Then, she was gone. Damian quickly turned to see her walking towards the Dean's office.

"Damian, please don't hurt her." Jon whispered, grabbing onto his arm, "I think she's new."

The Wayne heir closed his eyes and exhaled.

'She doesn't even know who I am.'

Damian Wayne was trained as an assassin. He trained with ninjas. It wasn't hard to follow the new girl around. He needed to explain what happened this morning. Usually, he wouldn't bother to explain himself, but he had to!

Damian spotted her in the hall. He walked quickly behind her and touched her shoulder, to gain her attention. He didn't expect her to grab his wrist, twist his arm, and bring him to his knees. Damian saw Jon freeze near him. He could see panic cross his face.

"Can I help you with something?" Marinette questioned, "You've been following me all day."

'She noticed me?'

"I wanted to apologize for my comment this morning." Damian began to explain, "My friend and I had a bet; I lost. I had to make a flirtatious remark to the first female I laid eyes upon once I was inside the school."

Marinette let go of his arm, but glared at him nonetheless. She watched him warily.

'Green eyes. Why do green eyes always start off being honest?'

Mari sighed, "Thank you. I'm sorry if I was too rough."

"You defended yourself admirably." Damian replied.

Everyone that had been watching, let out a breath of relief.

"I tried." she smiled, "Probably not as good as someone born in Gotham."

"I moved here seven years ago." Damian answered.

Jon couldn't believe he was hearing Damian's heart race.

"I want to apologize. I have been on edge and I promised myself I wouldn't be the same person I was back in Paris." she spoke.

"Same person?" asked Jon, unconsciously.

"A spineless nobody." Marinette frowned, "Thank you for apologizing."

Marinette turned and began to walk away.

"I didn't get your name." Damian called out.

"Marinette." she spoke.

"Damian." he answered.

"Oh." Mari spoke up, "Just for future reference, puns are horrible and aren't cute. Never use a pun to flirt with me, unless you want to be punched in the face." and walked away.

Damian gulped.

'She really is an angel.'

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#daminette december 2022 #daminette december #damian wayne #jon kent #bet #new student #crush #marinette dupain cheng #damian x marinette #daminette #marinette x damian #marinette in gotham #marinette deserves better #mochinek0

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miss0atae · 3 months

Text

Random thoughts about Pit Babe the series ep 10:

I was really waiting for this episode and I knew it would be filled with sadness and sorrow.

▪️Babe had a fight with Charlie before the race because his boyfriend was concerned about him. Babe thought Charlie didn't trust him and said some hard words to him. He was angry at him and it was their last conversation before the accident. Obviously, Babe was heartbroken. No one would want an argument to be the last conversation you have with anyone, even more when it is your lover. Babe really suffered in this episode. I said it before but I think Pavel really knows how to cry. He is a pretty crier. You do believe in his sadness and terrible loss just by looking at him. Of course, the sorrow was followed by anger and a will to get revenge. I feel sad for Babe because he lost his best friend, his father abandoned him, Tony took advantage of him and he had to lose the only person he ever loved and felt safe with. It was hard to watch him be utterly distraught.

▪️In the middle of all this drama, Jeff made a move on Alan because he has to wait until he decides to do it, he would have to wait an eternity. That kiss on the cheek was cute but I was expecting more! Alan is supposed to be in his thirties but he flirts like he is a pre-schooler. Jeff must really like him because I would have given up. He has been flirting a lot and Alan always seems to have this surprised Pikachu face when he finally understands what is going on. I wish they made their romance start earlier because we still have to wait until next week to get a proper kiss. At least, they are living in the same place. Proximity is the key to making the romance bloom.

▪️Kim finally was out of Tony's clutches. I hope it is because Kenta helped him get to Jeff but we never got confirmation. To be honest, I was surprised when Jeff brought him to Alan's house to protect him. It felt like they made some cuts in the episode and the rescue of Kim wasn't brought smoothly enough into the story. I don't know...

▪️Tony was again very abusing towards Kenta. It is getting harder and harder to see. This kind of constant abuse must be really hard to deal mentally. I wish we got more backstory or explanation about Kenta. I feel bad for him.

▪️Way was trying to drink his sorrow at the bar and was used as an emotional punching ball by Babe, when he tried to act on his revenge plan to get to Tony through the only person he knew worked with him. Way denied any involvement in Charlie's accident. I didn't think we would see him that soon after what he did to Babe. I don't know how they will bring him again into the plot. Will he try to redeem himself by helping the X-Hunter fam when they go after Tony?

▪️Finally, we had confirmation that Dean was working against X-Hunter. He was sus since last episode. He may not be entirely responsible for Charlie's death but what he did was really shitty. He has an ego, he is pretty jealous and can't accept that he may not be as good as he thinks he is. Also, he did try to hurt Babe and was giving some stupid excuses for his behaviors. If you wanted to be outside you could just get out and find another team. Why are you trying to sabotage your previous team just because they never gave you what you wanted?! He was whining and it was annoying to hear because we never saw him try to do anything except complaining.

▪️Of course, we all know that Charlie is not really dead. The trailer gave us the clue, so it's not exactly something ground breaking. It was part of his plan, he talked about with Jeff in the last episode. Now, Babe has his power back and will collaborate with Pete to bring down Tony. Charlie will probably just save Babe's life again because he only thinks about protecting his lover.

Anyway, I still like this series and will be ready for episode 11, next Friday. Let's hope it won't have the curse of episode 11 because Babe has already suffered enough.

#my thoughts #thai series #thai bl #bl drama #bl series #pit babe spoilers #random thoughts #Poor Babe is always suffering #We got some Alan x Jeff action but not enough for my taste #Kim is alive and well! Yeah!#Dean can go away because I never liked him too #Way stop drinking and find a good therapist #Can someone save Kenta now?#Charlie maybe you could have said something to Babe to avoid him suffering alone #I love you Jeff but I feel you also could have said something #I'm sure they didn't even think about what it would do to Babe's mental health #Pit Babe the series spoilers #pit babe the series #charlie x babe

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deanwinchesterswitch · 1 year

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Dreams of Happiness

Summary: You’re doing well in your new life—many would say you’re ‘living the dream’. The only problem is, it’s not the life you dreamed of living.

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst; Some fluff; Language; Mentions of smut; Canon divergence.

Betas: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Word Count: 2,747

Part One

It’s been a long time since you’ve attended one of the monthly gatherings. The possibility of seeing Dean makes your chest clench with pain, punching the air from your lungs. Yet, you miss your found family, and avoiding them to avoid him, serves no purpose. Besides, you're in a better place emotionally now. At least that’s what you keep telling everyone, anyway.

Eyes scanning the room as you pull out of Jody’s hug, your heart stalls at her next words, unsure if it’s from gratified relief or abject longing.

“They’re not coming,” Jody informs you, handing over the glass of whiskey in her hand. “Caught a case at the last minute.”

“Oh, sure,” you shrug, “I could have handled it if he was here.” The cock of her eyebrow lets you know that she can see right through the facade. Jody is the big sister you always wished you had. There’s no hiding from that all-knowing scrutiny. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“You doing alright?” she prods.

“I’m great. Things are going good.” You are not great. Things are not good. The reality is so far from either of those that you’re unsure where you’d begin to explain. “How’s everyone?”

“We’re good. The girls are excited about seeing you.”

“Of course they are. I’m the cool aunt.”

“You’re the only aunt,” she deadpans.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still cool.”

As if on cue, Alex and Claire burst into the room, shoving each other and shouting your name, vying for your attention. Taking a large gulp of whiskey, you hand the glass back to Jody just as two sets of arms squeeze you tight in their hold.

A couple of hours later, the bathroom mirror reflects a genuine smile, contentment from being around the ones you love. Exiting the bathroom, you’re stopped in your tracks outside Alex’s room, overhearing your name.

“She looks happy,” Claire states.

“I don’t know. There’s a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.” Alex always seemed to understand you. Relate to you a little better. When you showed up on Jody’s doorstep, physically and mentally exhausted, emotionally devastated, she had been the one to help paste the pieces back together enough for you to function again in the world outside their home.

“Well, I think they’re both a couple of dumbasses. Everyone can see that they belong together. Did you see his reaction last time when Jody told him she wasn’t coming? And she is obviously disappointed that he isn’t here today.”

Claire’s no slouch at observing people either, and you reluctantly smile at her forthright assessment. You’re curious about his reaction, and though you know you’re wrong for eavesdropping, you silently lean a little closer to the open doorway, hoping to hear more about him.

“Yeah, but they both seem to be moving on. The art business is working out great for her, and he’s still out there putting himself in harm’s way to save the world.”

Does he know about your new business venture? Maybe he believes that you are happier without him. Agitation begins to coil in your chest at Alex’s response, but Claire’s next words cut a broad stroke through your heart.

“She still loves him, though, don’t you think?”

Of course, I do! I can’t just throw a switch and stop.

“I think so. Her poker face is almost as good as his, so it’s hard to tell for sure. I wish she’d talk to us about it.”

There’s no way I can talk about him. It’s too difficult to explain. It still hurts too much.

“I bet he still loves her even though he’s being an idiot.”

“I know, but,” Alex’s disgruntled huff reaches your ears, “Sam said he’s back to picking up waitr-”

You need air—an escape.

Stumbling down the stairs and sprinting toward the front door, you hastily call to the group in the living room that you’re going out for a while. Not waiting for a response, you rush to your car, tires squealing as you pull away from the curb, bound for the lake a few miles from Jody’s. Windows down, wind whipping at your hair, the sequenced pitch of rubber racing over asphalt begins to soothe your troubled mind. Backing up to the edge of the rocky beach, you breathe a shaky sigh of relief, solace seeping through you with the familiarity of your surroundings, your sanctuary.

A swath of emotions threatens to bleed through your pores, but you hold them back until you're lying in the bed of the truck. Staring up at the inky darkness, tears coat and gloss your eyes, turning the view into an image reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

As the months dragged on, you got better at keeping the guilt and desolation hidden, putting on a show for others. A bright smile painted on your face, posing an apathetic demeanor whenever he’s mentioned. Yet, there are still times when you least expect it, caught off guard like tonight, that the hard outline is feathered by grief.

You’d heard tidbits of information about him when running into old acquaintances—laughing, joking, playing pool, the occasional story about him leaving with a beautiful woman draped around him. What you knew, though, that most of them didn’t, was that beneath the cheeky swagger he showed to the world was a compassionate, kind heart steeped in a complex, volatile cocktail of emotions. The person the world saw was only a guise shielding the man you knew and loved.

So you had taken their words with a grain of salt. You’d smile and nod, steer them back to talking about whatever case they were working. They’d eventually ask you to help. If you could, you’d assist with the lore but decline further involvement, telling them, ‘I’m not a hunter.’ As time passed, it became easier to say, but the sting continued to echo.

Hearing about his extracurricular activities with Sam as the source cut deep. It had to be true, then. Didn’t it? Sam was ground zero. Dean had moved on… let you go. Did he even love you anymore?

Colors blend and evanesce, fingers brushing cold metal as you absentmindedly reach for the warmth and security of a hand no longer there. A lost comfort, an intangible ache that lingers on your skin. Fuck, you miss him. You’ve made some pretty questionable decisions over the years, but leaving him ranks the highest. If there were a way to take it all back, you would. Tell him that you were wrong to leave, that you meant all the promises contained in the last words you said to him. You figure he knows on some level. It doesn’t make your choice any easier to accept.

You left him to deal with the never-ending cycle of douchebag demons, dickhead angels, and whatever new monster of the week emerged. Left him alone with the burden of saving the world on top of all the emotional trauma he constantly tries to shove down and hide away.

Hands curling into fists, heated tears whitewash a salty trail to your hairline unabated. There’s no reason to repair the peeling varnish of the facade you painted with no one around to assess the damage. So you let the heartache fade and blur into memories.

“A fireplace.” Rough-skinned fingers traced a path down your spine, palm coming to rest on your hip.

“It takes up half the wall,” a quick nip at his ear, “with a big fluffy rug and lots of pillows. Glass panels on either side to watch the snowfall.”

He laughed, “You’ve been watching too many of those sappy movies again. Not everything is a Hallmark moment.”

“When I’m with you, it feels like it.”

A random conversation that had become a ritual after bad hunts. Sometimes after good ones too, when you were both feeling overly optimistic about the future. The two of you, naked and cuddled close, on a blanket staring up at the stars, in Baby’s backseat, or safe in your bed at the bunker, whispering sweet, healing words and envisioning the home he would build for the two of you post-hunting life. It was a way to escape the horrors of the current day-to-day. Light in the darkness; hope where sometimes it seemingly never existed.

“A chef’s kitchen. Open concept, restaurant grade appliances, butcher’s block, and a marble countertop for rolling out pie dough.”

The sweet scrape of scruff against your flesh and heated breath, “An island I can bend you over and rail you from behind.”

“Wow, what a sweet talker.” You’d kissed him until there were no breaths left to share. Then he’d taken you on the backseat, tender and loving, like you had all the time in the world, replacing whispered words with cries of passion.

Rufus’ old safe house in Montana would be the perfect fixer-upper. By the time you remembered it, it was too late, and you never got the chance to mention it to him. Sam had kept the three of you on a string of hunts until one of them became the final straw for Dean. It had been a bit of a rough one. The witch had nearly succeeded in making you her next sacrifice, but you’d managed to outmaneuver and kill her just as the boys burst into the room. Dean had not been happy.

Between fuming bouts of silence, you’d argued, for hours, the entire ten-hour drive back to the bunker. Sam was so fed up that Baby was barely parked before he was out, grabbing a set of keys to one of the old cars and driving off without a word to either of you. By the time the two of you reached the bedroom, the fight had come to a head, and the spiteful words cut deep.

“Let’s sleep on it, and we can talk tomorrow.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep in my old room tonight.”

“No. I want you to pack your things and get out of the bunker. I’m tired of having to rescue you. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to try and keep you from getting yourself killed all the time.”

Anger had instantly flared, “You’re being an asshole! How-,” but as you’d fired back, you caught the flash of torment in his gaze and realized what he was trying to do. Quickly switching tactics, you’d attempted to reason with him. The harsh words thrown back at you had felt like a salt round to the chest at close range.

“...You’re not a hunter. You’re a liability.”

Dean’s anger was a sight to behold but had never before been directed at you with such force. He’d drawn himself up—arms crossed, stance widened, face an unyielding mask, eyes dark, glare chilling, breath nearly undetectable. For a moment, you wondered if you reached out and touched him, would his skin feel like marble, and an imagined draft of air had prickled your skin.

You’d known he wouldn’t back down once he’d voiced his ultimatum. Struggling under the burden of keeping those he loved alive and out of harm's way, Dean was doing what he did best by trying his damnedest to push you away, believing you would be safer. So you’d let go of the charged words you’d been ready to hurl back and stared him down, uttering the only words that truly mattered.

“I love you.”

The clench of his jaw—rolling muscle beneath stubbled flesh—the singular movement betrayed his vulnerability. You’d thought your words might be enough, but it only made him double down on his determination. He fired one last shot, then walked away.

You’d heard him pause in the hallway, hoped his resolve would break, and whispered, “Please don’t leave.” As his strides had grown more distant, you’d stared at the space he left behind.

Standing in the dimly lit room, you'd waited until your legs ached, finally collapsing into a sobbing heap on the bed to wait a bit longer. Exhausted from the hunt, the argument, and with utter despair draining every conscious thought, you’d eventually fallen into a fitful sleep. Waking with a gasp, you frantically searched the room, but there was no sign that he had returned.

No missed calls or texts lit up your phone when you checked it. It felt like your heart was pumping sludge through your veins, then anger flared, flushing everything loose. How could he leave like that? Say those things to you and then walk out without a backward glance? It didn’t matter that you knew why he did it. The outrage over his callous words ignited a fire in your heart that seared its way through your emotional cortex.

Debating whether it was best to wait and confront him when he finally returned or give each other some time, you finally shoved a few items of clothing in a bag, figuring you’d be back in a day or two once the dust settled.

The first step across the bedroom’s threshold felt like stepping off a cliff, a point of no return. As you’d dragged yourself through the bunker, hope had kept you moving forward. Hope that he would be in the garage, sitting in the Impala. You wouldn’t have cared if the fight continued. You’d just wanted to see him there.

When you’d found Baby’s spot empty, muscle memory had been the only thing that kept you upright. Residual shock kept the emotions at bay until you hit the Nebraska state line. You’d found a liquor store and then a motel. Cried, drank, rehashed, dissected every detail that you should have done differently, drank some more, cried again, then drank until your tears were laced with alcohol.

You knew Dean was afraid of losing someone else he loved, and he did love you. It had been there behind the cold stare and harsh words. He wouldn’t have believed you had forgiven him before he even walked out of the room, but you had.

Your bout of anger did not negate that forgiveness, knowing that the extreme harshness of his words was proportionate to the feelings he held for you. You hadn’t chased after him for the same reason you had stopped arguing. As much as it hurt, anger and betrayal bleeding through every pore, you’d known there was no point. In that moment, Dean had decided on a course of action and would remain firm. He believed what he was doing would somehow protect you from a hunter’s end, deflect the chaos and darkness of this life, save you… from him.

On the fifth day of radio silence, having eaten nothing but a couple of packages of stale vending machine fare, you’d finally taken a shower, dragged ass to the nearest food source, drank an entire pot of coffee, and downed a huge helping of the greasiest food you could order. After puking up everything you had consumed, you’d ordered a coffee and two bottles of water to go.

You’d believed that regret, guilt… love would somehow, for once, win out over his innate stubbornness, and he would eventually call to apologize. You had been wrong.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d stopped yourself from calling or texting. You’d rationalized that he needed more time, that if you tried to contact him too soon, you would only make things worse. Deciding it was best to give him space to work through the wealth of emotions you knew he’d be wrestling with, no matter how painful it was for you. So you hauled yourself north, away from the only true home you’d known in years… away from the tormented despair… away from him.

Now you have to face the consequences of your decision. He’s moving on, adjusting to a life without you, and, according to rumors confirmed by a reputable source, finding solace in the arms of another. In an attempt to save your sanity or a matter of self-preservation, you hadn’t let yourself think about him with someone else.

It hurts like hell, but the blame lies with you as much, if not more so, than him. You told him you loved him but then abandoned him like so many others. You were just as much at fault for letting the months drag on with no contact, no attempt at reconciliation. Caught up in a new life that you only ever wanted to share with him, you realize you had waited too long.

Too afraid, too ashamed to contact him.

Part Three

#dreams of happiness #rumors part two #dean winchester x fem!reader #dw's witch writes #031723

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castieldelamancha · 8 months

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Dean swings his feet where they stick out over the armrest of the couch, his head comfortably supported by a pillow on Castiel's lap, Cas' fingers slowly combing through his short hair, whatever insecurity he could have felt when the first gray hairs started to appear was blown to pieces by Castiel's clear love for them. His other hand is holding his phone as he busies himself watching short videos, showing Dean the ones he thinks he might enjoy as well from time to time.

Dean is is reading a brand new comic he got a couple days ago, a new addition to his growing collection, he is kinda sad he only has a few older ones from his youth, with their missing pages, folded corners and faded colors. He is sad he can't go back and tell that kid that used to read comics hidden away in some small town library and that used to stop by the comic stores' glass window, peering longingly at all the comics inside, the ones he couldn't afford to buy, that one day he would be able to get them, treasure them. There are many things he would tell that kid if he could.

"Why 'kapow'?" And Dean just can process the fact he just heard an honest to God angel making that sound with his mouth, "you know well punches don't sound like that."

Dean rolls his eyes, resting the open comic on his chest, looking up at Cas, "dunno know, it's just for effect." He shrugs slightly.

Castiel gives him a look, "I guess, It's only that it sounds a bit silly."

"What? You are gonna tell me this is too absurd and childish for a grown man to be reading it?" And woah, he thinks, that sounded exaggeratedly defensive even to his own ears. It's a familiar speech, echoing in his head with the voice of his father. He could live with Sam fondly calling him a big nerd, he couldn't live with the mocking sneer on John's face whenever he mentioned Dean's hobby. Or when he threw away a comic Bobby had bought him after finding it, and Dean had done his best to hide it, keeping it under the mattress of every motel bed he slept on. Because Dean had to focus on what was important, learn to hunt, take care of Sam. No time for stupid distractions.

Castiel tilts his head to the side, studying his face in what used to feel unnerving to Dean, but that now doesn't anymore, used to it as he is, he shakes his head after a beat, "I don't believe one can be too old to do something they enjoy, because in that case I would be too old for everything." This is Cas, Dean reminds himself, he would never treat Dean that way.

"Yeah grandpa, that's true." Castiel glares at him.

"They have nothing on you, though," Castiel points at the cape-wearing heroes on the front page, " you have also saved the world, and so many lives, bravely dealing with the villains over and over again." The tips of Dean's ears turn the same shade of red hea cheeks do.

"You telling me in a parallel universe Batman reads comic books about our adventures?" Because joking is easier than accepting the way Castiel is looking at him, like he admires him, or than accepting his words.

Castiel hums, "Yes, I am pretty certain he does."

"You are such a dork." His voice is nothing but soft, just like the way he is staring up at Cas, "I'm Batman's favourite character, of course."

Castiel laughs lightly, nodding along. He bends down to press a kiss to his forehead, "you can always be you here, Dean."

"I know."

#destiel #ficlet #i uhm yeah i guess makes sense to me #vanessa writes ✨#bad parent john winchester #always #because he was a pretty bad dad #and all that

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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

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Poetic Tragedy (Part 7)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess?

A/N: This whole story is free written. The only idea I had was the scene in the first chapter where the guys corner her in the alley after she steals, after that, I’m just winging it lmao I have no idea where this story is heading right now, I’m just along for the ride like you guys loooool

—------------------

The next day, you lay on your bed blinking slowly at the ceiling. After your little argument with Billy, you’d hidden in your room and you hadn't come out. You didn’t want to bump into Billy, you couldn't promise that you wouldn't hit him the next time he decided to take his anger out on you. You were done being a punching bag, you’d left those days behind. Like hell you were going to let him use you to take his frustrations out on. Everything was too much. You were used to a simple life, one that was mostly peaceful. You couldn't even enjoy being clean after all these years with the darkness looming over you. It felt like it was raining down shit on you and you weren't sure when it would end. What next? The building would catch fire and everyone would die? You wouldn't be surprised at this point. You missed the quiet that came with the solitude of your alley. Missed the drama-free nonsense. It was simple. Steal, eat, use and sleep. That was what you were used to, only now it would be even simpler without the drug use dangling over your head. You really couldn't wait to leave here. You felt trapped and it was stifling. You weren’t used to all these people, weren’t used to all this death and violence. You just wanted to be alone again, it was easier than this.

Your thoughts drifted to Dean, remembering the awful moment the gunshot echoed outside. You didn't know how to feel about it all, about Dean acting so unaffected. His brother was a giant piece of shit and you had no doubt he was abusive to Dean, but still, the idea didn't sit well with you that he’d signed off on his death like he did. You hated your parents for what they did to you but you wouldn't tell someone to kill them. The mobs of New York, you got it. They were destructive and deadly and they needed to be gone. But not everything was black and white. It all bled into shades of gray and it seemed the lines that should be set were getting blurred here and it concerned you. Frank was one of the only ones to agree with you on that front and it surprised you a little given his history. But you wondered if after he was done with his revenge and he finally got it, he’d had time to think about everything. Realized needless violence wasn't the answer. There needed to be rules to this chaos or innocent people would wind up dead. Petty criminals like yourself would wind up dead. Some people just made bad choices and while yes, they may hurt people along the way, it didn't mean they had to die for it. You didn't believe for one second the police couldn't handle the petty lowlives like that. It was the big guns they had difficulty getting a handle on. That's where the vigilantes were supposed to step in, not for shit like this. You wanted to speak with Dean and make sure he was okay. You weren't sure if his brave face was just an act. You had no idea what had gone down with Billy and Dean when you weren't around, when he’d told him to stay away from you, but Dean was playing the good little soldier bit down to a tee and you felt like maybe he was going along with what he thought Billy wanted. You wondered if he’d threatened him. You wouldn't put it past the bastard.

You heaved yourself off the bed, forcing yourself to get dressed. It was almost 9 am and you weren't sure where Dean would be. Breakfast was between 8 and 9, training starting at 10. After you got ready, you trudged down the stairs feeling heavy. The night before had been hard for you, harder than you’d like to admit. Without the crutch of drugs to fall back on, you’d lay there all night with your mind on a loop of what you witnessed. The cracking of Josh’s arm wouldn't scrub from your brain and all it did was make awful memories of your own surface. You didn't want to hear another bone break in your life. When you got downstairs, you looked around but saw no sign of Dean. Frank and Billy were talking to some of the recruits, they looked all business. Billy’s eyes drifted over to you then and you looked away quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you made a beeline for Karen. You didn't want to give him any opening to speak to you at all. With how you were feeling, you thought you might snap. You hadn't allowed yourself to cry over everything. It felt wrong, crying over Josh as if you missed him because you didn't. It just brought up a lot of trauma for you and the whole thing made you feel upside down. You were only a baby when it came to being in recovery and the tempting voice in the back of your head wouldn't leave you alone.

“Hey, have you seen Dean?” you asked softly, nibbling your lower lip. Karen glanced around before shaking her head.

“I haven’t seen him, I don’t think he’s been down here yet,” she replied with a smile.

“Do you know what room he’s in?” you asked hopefully. It would be even better to talk to him in private if you could catch him before he came downstairs.

“104,” Karen supplied easily. You wondered how she kept up with all the names and faces and apparently, room numbers too. She was just good at this shit, she was nothing like you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, going to walk away.

“Are you okay?” she asked, halting your steps. You felt tense at her question as you turned back to her.

“I’m fine,” you lied, giving her a fake smile. Her eyes narrowed a little as she scrutinized you.

“You know it's okay not to be fine, right?” she asked with a sad smile. You stuffed your hands into your hoodie pockets and shrugged.

“Look, I know yesterday was intense and I’m sorry you had to see it. And I saw your face when my hand went up at the vote. I didn't mean… I never wanted you to feel… betrayed or anything. But we’ve worked so hard building this place. Most of the people here… they’ve suffered in one way or another. We don't get normal guys with white-collar jobs turning up here signing up. The people here had a rough go of it and they're here to make a difference. To really help people. It's a safe space and if we kept him here… We can’t have someone like that here, we can’t have our people feeling unsafe. And letting him go wasn't an option because you’d wind up dead and he’d tell the Irish where we are. I’m not saying what happened was good, because it wasn't. But they were all bad choices and this was the one where only one person got hurt,” she explained shakily, a small frown on her face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I know he was a bad man, trust me, I get that more than most. And I get that you're protective of this place, the people here… but I’m not. I look out for myself because that's all I’ve ever had to do and it’s what I’ll keep on doing. He might have been a threat to me but I still couldn't just sign his death warrant like that. I don't have it in me,” you murmured tensely. She nodded, looking thoughtful as she sighed.

“I understand. I just wanted you to know why I did it. Frank’s been upset with me since. The old Frank would have killed him before Billy even got to him,” she said with a sad smile.

“Well it seems the new Frank might have gotten his conscience back,” you replied, giving her a meaningful look before you turned away. You understood her reasons, it made sense. But it didn't mean you had to like it. You could go around and around in circles with her or Billy until the earth stopped rotating but it wouldn't make any of you see differently. And this was why you didn't belong here. You weren't built that way.

You walked back up the stairs, this time stopping on the second floor and not the third. You remembered Karen telling you the rooms were smaller and there were more of them as you took in the differences between this floor and yours. You stopped outside of 104, taking a deep breath before you knocked on the door firmly. The door opened and Dean blinked at you for a moment. He was dressed but his bootlaces were undone like he was in the middle of putting them on when you knocked.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing your way past him inside. You weren't about to give him another chance to shut you down or evade you. You moved into the room, sitting on his bed as you watched him sigh and shut the door. He moved over to a chair in the room, starting to tie his laces.

“What's up?” he asked, his voice not giving anything away about how he was feeling.

“You know damn well what's up. Josh was murdered yesterday, how can you be so okay with it?” you asked with a frown. He scoffed, sitting up properly in the chair now his laces were tied.

“I don’t get how you aren’t,” he bit out, shaking his head at you.

“He was a drug dealer and shitty person, it hardly warrants being executed like that,” you muttered tensely.

“It's like you want to die,” he huffed incredulously.

“Excuse me?” you asked as your brows raised.

“You know what he would have done if we let him go. You’d be dead, maybe we’d all end up dead. I did what I had to do to keep you and everyone else safe,” he bit out with a glower.

“I get all that, I had Karen feed me the same bullshit. But what I don’t get is how you were so okay with it, how it was so easy for you,” you couldn't keep the hard edge out of your tone and he snorted joylessly.

“It was easy because he’s been dead to me for years. You only know half the shit he did to me. You can think I’m a monster for not caring all you want, but I’m okay with what I did,” he insisted firmly. Your shoulders sagged a little at his words and you frowned.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Dean. I’m just worried about you,” you murmured, feeling guilt gnaw at you. While you didn't quite get why he was so okay with his brother being killed, you weren’t him. He was right, you didn't know everything. You knew he would have had his reasons. You just hoped that being here with these people hadn't desensitized him to violence.

He got up from where he sat, moving to sit next to you on the bed.

“You don’t need to worry about me. Really, I’m fine,” he said resolutely. When you looked at him, you knew he meant it. There wasn't much else you could say on the topic. What was done was done and as long as it wasn't eating at him, you had no choice but to drop it no matter how much it didn't sit right with you.

“Enough about me anyway. How are you?” It was such a simple question, one that Karen had asked just moments before. But when Dean asked you, his blue eyes looking at you with all of their concern, you mortifyingly felt your lower lip wobble and you quickly looked away. You wanted to hit yourself.

“It's okay to be upset. Josh was a big part of your life since you were 17,” he murmured softly. You shook your head, the tears burning your eyes deciding to free themselves as they fell down your cheeks.

“I’m not upset… not like that. It’s not like I’m gonna miss him, I just… It’s all too much. There's too much happening one after the other and my brain can’t handle it. There’s so much… death and-and violence. And watching Billy beat him like that… it was like being back at home,” you lamented, angrily wiping your eyes. Josh had been a huge part of your life for a long while but you didn't lie when you said you wouldn't miss him. Seeing him was the worst part of your week and it would always fill you with dread, anxiety and shame. You just didn't think the right justice for his crimes was a bullet to his head. You didn't like how easy it was for them all to resort to murder. Dean put his hand on your back carefully as if not to spook you, rubbing it softly to comfort you.

“I know it's a lot for you. I know that violence upsets you,” he muttered quietly as you sniffled, getting a reign on yourself.

“I just can’t wait to leave,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“You know what I think?” he asked. When you looked at him, he gave you a rueful smile.

“What?” you asked, wiping your eyes of the last of their tears.

“I think you need cheering up. I know a great ice cream place,” he shot you a grin and your lips quirked up a little at him.

“I’m not allowed to leave, remember?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s not far and we won’t be too long. We could just grab it and bring it back here. I know a way we could sneak out,” he smirked.

It was a little exhilarating sneaking out. He’d led you to a secret staircase that you would have never known existed. It had an exit to the back. He chose one of the many cars parked outside at the side of the building before leaving quickly before anyone noticed. You felt a thrill at being free, at being out of the intense atmosphere there.

“So this is what freedom feels like?” you asked playfully, looking out the window longingly. You missed it out there. Dean chuckled, glancing at you as he navigated the road easily to get to his destination.

“You must hate being cooped up there,” he answered lightly.

“Just a bit,” you snorted, making him smile at you. It didn't take long to get to the ice cream place and once inside, you felt overwhelmed. There were so many flavors that it made your brain ache. You couldn't remember the last time you had ice cream, you didn't even remember what it tasted like.

“What can I get you, hon?” the older woman behind the counter asked with a polite smile as she looked at Dean.

“Uh… I’ll have the rocky road,” he supplied, looking at you for your answer. You couldn’t give him one though, staring at the many flavors like you were about to have an aneurysm.

“And a chocolate chip too,” he smiled. You looked to him then, body feeling relief sweeping through it. You were glad he picked for you, you thought you’d be there forever if he didn't. It reminded you of years ago, back when he would visit you in your little alley when he could. He’d bring a pack of chocolate chip cookies with him. You didn't devour them like your starving body wanted you to. Instead, you’d rationed yourself to one a day to make them last until his next visit. When the woman handed the ice creams over, Dean handed yours to you and you took it gratefully. You ate a mouthful of it and you moaned softly at the taste. It was the nicest thing you’d tasted in forever, even if the cold was strange to you.

“Good, right?” he asked teasingly at your reaction as you both left the store.

“You’re spoiling me. I hope you know you're gonna have to come visit me when I leave and bring ice cream,” you smirked cheekily as you both made your way to the car.

“Do you want me to get you another scoop?” he asked, standing next to you with an amused look on his face. You were honestly considering it.

The sound of tires screeching had you both whipping around to see a black car come to an abrupt halt outside of the shop, four big men jumping out. Your body froze, heart beating rapidly and you felt Dean tense next to you.

“We’ve been lookin’ for ye, little girl,” the bigger man smirked cruelly, his accent giving him away immediately. You felt like you might throw up. He drew his gun and Dean rushed over, reaching for his own that you didn't even realize he’d had on him. But before Dean could even grab it, a bullet went right through his head and he fell into a lifeless heap on the floor.

“No!” you screamed, ice cream slapping the floor with a splat. Your heart felt like it was being ripped right out of your chest. As you made a move to get to him, you suddenly flew backwards by a force, your back hitting the ground hard. You gasped, pain spreading all over you like you were on fire. You couldn't move your left arm. You glanced down, seeing blood quickly soaking into your shirt under your left shoulder. You heard people shouting and the sound of tires once more but your brain felt like it was working through molasses at the shock and pain and you rolled onto your side. Dean was looking right at you but there was no life in his eyes and you sobbed brokenly, the gunshot in the middle of his head oozing blood.

“No… No, I’m sorry,” you wailed, dragging your pain-riddled body over to his. He couldn't be dead, this couldn't be real. You made it far enough to grasp his hand, clutching it desperately like you might float away. Your broken pleas became silence as everything turned to darkness.

—-

You gasped as your eyes shot open, looking around panicked as you took in the bright white room. Your head felt fuzzy, your body heavy, as painful flashes of what happened came back to you. Dean was dead. He was dead because of you.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

“You need to stay still, sweetie. Just relax.” The voice made you tense as your blurry eyes focused on the nurse that was hovering over you, chart in hand.

“It’s okay,” she added with a kind smile. You felt panic gripping you tightly. You had to get out of here, if the Irish turned up, you’d be dead.

“I… I need to leave. I have to…” you pleaded, once again trying to sit up. The nurse moved your bed to sit up for you as she hovered next to you.

“You can’t leave just yet, you’re under observation. You’re lucky that gunshot didn't hit anything important. The police have also been waiting to come and take a statement. You've been out of it for…” she trailed off, glancing to your chart, “four days,” she murmured with a concerned frown. Four days. For all you knew, if you turned up back at the warehouse, they’d all be dead just like Dean. You felt sick.

“I really need to go, I don’t want to be here,” you lamented as tears stained your cheeks. She gave you a sympathetic look but shook her head.

“Just let the doctor see you first. If he clears you, then you can leave and arrange to see the police at home,” she insisted. You blinked ahead of you, unseeing as your brain replayed the horrors you’d seen over and over.

“Can you tell me your name, sweetie? You didn't have any ID on you when you came in, we’ve had you down as a Jane Doe,” the nurse asked lightly. You frowned, shaking your head. Of course, you didn't have an ID on you, you didn't have any at all. You were a nobody in this city, a ghost. And that's how you liked it.

“You don't remember your name?” the nurse asked, concern dripping from her voice. You shook your head again, not even really listening to her. You needed to leave before you wound up dead. Your hazy eyes drifted to your right hand, seeing an IV in it. You frowned again, moving your left hand to get it out of you. While you could move your left arm now, it was uncomfortable and painful.

“No, no, no! You have to leave that in, it's the pain medication,” the nurse tutted as she came over to stop you.

“Pain medication?” you asked with a hollow voice, dread seizing you tightly.

“For your wound. The doctor made sure to give you the good stuff,” she gave you a bright smile but you felt like you were being sucked into a black hole. You were a recovered opioid addict and they’d given you strong pain meds. That was why you felt so fuzzy and out of it. You thought it had been the blood loss. While it wouldn't make you go through withdrawals again since it wasn't as strong as the heroin you were used to, it would make abstaining a lot harder for you, which in your current devastated condition, wasn't great. You didn't speak, glaring at the IV like you wanted to set it on fire with your mind.

“Okay, I’m gonna go and grab the doctor. I’ll be back in a minute,” the nurse said awkwardly before disappearing.

You wasted no time as you ripped the IV from your hand with a wince. There was no way you were waiting around here to get killed or to be questioned by the police. You swung your legs over the side of the bed with a groan. Your shoulder was hurting, although you guessed not as bad as it would have been without the pain meds. Your emotional turmoil was worse though. You rummaged in the bedside cupboard, hoping to find your clothes. All you found were your boots though so you slipped them on as you stood in just your hospital gown. You crept to the door, peeping out for a moment. When the coast was clear, you hurried from the room and down the hallway. Near the stairs, you spotted a staff room and you pressed your ear to it for a long moment. With no sounds, you carefully pushed open the door. The room was empty but you looked around, finding some clean blue scrubs in a drawer. You made quick work of getting out of your gown and into the scrubs, putting your boots back on afterwards. You left the room, hurriedly darting down the stairs and out of the building. Outside held no comfort like it used to, your body on high alert after what happened. You felt on the edge of breaking, like all of your feelings were contained in a glass box that was about to shatter into a million pieces. You couldn't get Dean’s lifeless face out of your mind, how he stared at you blankly, devoid of life. Your whole body was trembling with pain and anguish as your feet carried you to wherever they wanted to go. It turned out it was the warehouse. It was still standing but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel the relief. Not after what you did, not after Dean had died because of you.

You heard the raised voices before you’d even opened the door and it made fear prickle you as you pushed it open. All eyes seemed to turn to you then, incredulous and shocked.

“Y/N… where have you been?!” Karen asked, rushing over as her eyes assessed your current outfit.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you bit out, voice rough and hollow.

“The fuck you mean you don’t wanna talk about it? We’ve been lookin’ for you for days, thinkin’ the Irish got you,” Billy snapped harshly, his eyes ablaze. Your body shook with the sheer force it was taking you not to break down.

“Where’ve you been, Y/N?” Frank asked with a softer tone, his eyes worried as he looked at you. It felt like everyone was talking at once, numerous recruits all talking over each other and you clenched your jaw and resisted the urge to cover your ears.

“Where’s Josh?” Curtis asked quietly, the straw that broke the camel's back.

“He’s dead!” you exploded. Suddenly, the place was overtaken with silence before all the murmurs started up again, it felt like a million people all asking you the same question. What happened?

“Dead?” Curtis asked slowly, his face contorting with pain.

“Come on, Y/N, you gotta talk to us here. What happened?” Frank asked carefully as he took a step towards you, Billy mirroring him. Your eyes were ahead of you, unseeing and unfocused as all you could see was Dean with his blank eyes, all you could hear were the gunshots, the sound of Dean hitting the floor. Ice cream. It had all been over ice cream.

“You better start talkin’, Y/N. What the fuck do you mean he’s dead?” Billy growled at you.

“He’s dead! What do you want me to say?! He’s dead and it's all my fault!” you yelled, the dam breaking as a heaving sob wracked your chest. Karen made a move to grab you but you stepped back quickly, your right hand moving over your heart like you were trying to stop it from spilling out of your chest.

“I was upset and he… he took me to get ice cream. We were… we were happy, laughing and then… the-the Irish found us. They shot him and-and then they shot me and I’ve been in hospital,” you murmured, sounding in shock. All the talking started talking again and it was grating on your very raw nerves. Everyone was hounding you, asking more questions that you didn't want to answer. How could this happen? Why did you even go out there? How did you sneak out? How did the Irish know where to find you? But then you felt a jolt of anger inside of you as your brain turned your pain and hurt into rage instead.

“Just shut up!” you bellowed, making everyone go quiet instantly.

“I’ve just watched the closest person to a friend get a bullet to the brain all because he wanted to cheer me up and then I got shot myself. Then I spent four days being pumped full of pain meds and all I can see is his fucking face and I can’t unsee it! I’m not gonna stand here and have you all fucking question me for answers I don't have when all I wanna do right now is die! So just shut up and leave me alone!” you roared, voice cracking as you felt like you were going to drown under the weight of your emotions. Karen's hand went to her mouth, her eyes tearful as she looked at you. But you just gave them all a scathing yet tearful look before storming past them all. Your chest was heaving as you ran up the stairs, pain consuming every inch of you. Withdrawals hurt less than this.

When you got in your room, you slammed the door shut before letting out a gut-wrenching scream, so full of all your rage, pain and anguish you were shocked the window didn't shatter. You couldn't breathe through your broken sobs and you slid down the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest as you hugged them with your right arm, your left hanging loosely by your side. You didn't get it, couldn't make sense of why life kept wanting to hurt you like this. You were a disease, spreading to everything you came into contact with. You heard the door open and shut and you should have known Karen would come and check on you, despite you not wanting anyone around you right now. But as they sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, you became very aware that it wasn't Karen at all. It was Billy.

“Leave me alone, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now!” you sobbed, trying to push him away. But he was stronger and he pulled you to him.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he murmured. The soft voice from when he helped you through withdrawals was back but you were too fucked in the head to try and care. In your sheer pain, you gave into him, head going to his chest as you sobbed almost violently into his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand stroking your hair softly. You were taking big painful gasps of air between your sobs and your head felt dizzy.

“It’s all my fault,” you lamented through your tears painfully. You felt him shake his head above you at your words.

“Don’t say that, this ain’t on you, sweetheart,” he insisted. You pulled away from him and the hand that had been around you slid to your knee, the hand from your hair now on your shoulder as you gave him the most heartbreaking look and he winced.

“How isn’t this on me?! The only reason he was out there was because I was upset! He died because he was with me! Why do I get to live when he’s…” you trailed off brokenly, your good hand slapping over your eyes as if trying to stop the onslaught of tears that was assaulting you. Billy’s hand on your shoulder moved to the back of your head as he soothingly rubbed your scalp.

“I know about guilt. Ain’t no use in carryin’ it around for shit beyond your control. Sometimes bad shit just happens and there ain’t a damn thing we can do to stop it,” he muttered firmly.

“My whole life’s just been bad shit, when will it fucking end?” you agonized, wiping your tears angrily with your good hand.

“You didn’t pull that trigger, Y/N. You’re not to blame for this,” his dark eyes bore into you and you shook your head with a shaky breath. You wanted to argue with him, you didn't agree with him for one second. But you just felt exhausted. You felt like you had nothing left in you to give.

A silence settled over you both then and you would have thought you were too far gone for it to bother you but you were wrong.

“Why are you even here anyway? You hate me so I’m not sure what your end game is,” you huffed, unable to help yourself. His hands moved away from you as he shifted to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, hands in his lap.

“I don't hate you, Y/N,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder.

“That's a joke right?” you asked mockingly. A deep frown creased his brow as he looked away, rolling his shoulder again as he licked his lower lip.

“I don't. It's just… you fuckin’ scare me,” he bit out reluctantly. An incredulous laugh flew from your lips that you were powerless to stop and he turned to shoot you a glare, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time believing the bad boy Marine sniper turned vigilante is scared of a frail homeless girl,” you scoffed. He looked away again, his jaw ticking as he shook his head.

“It ain’t like that… It’s just… I don’t let people in. The people in this place, I care about ‘em ‘cause I’m responsible for ‘em. But the people I really let get close to me I can count on one hand… And then you happened,” he muttered, his dark eyes turning to you. They were burning so intensely that they felt like they were searing into your skin.

“When I met you in that alley it was like… like somethin’ was eatin’ at me and I didn’t get it. Didn’t like the way you were just livin’ your life like you didn’t want it to get better. But I tried to ignore it, tried to forget you since I figured I’d never see you again but then you wound up here. I knew there was somethin’ off with you and it irritated me and then I found out it was the drugs and that… that bothered me,” his face hardened as he looked away, his hands clenching into fists.

“You said I got mommy issues and maybe you’re right ‘cause that’s all I could think about. And it bothered me because I didn't want that for you, didn't want you to wind up like my mother. I couldn't stand there and let you just waste away like that and that's why I needed you to get clean,” he explained, letting his head fall back to the wall with a quiet thud as you just watched him, unsure where this was going.

“I let you in. I told you things I’d never tell someone I’ve only met a few times, but it was so easy with you. Especially after the shit you told me ‘cause it fuckin’ resonated with me. And then I’m takin’ care of you, watchin’ you in so much pain and it hurt me. I wanted to make it better, wanted to take it away. I'd have taken that pain so you didn't have to feel it in a heartbeat,” he frowned, still unable to look at you.

“But then… then it was all over. You were better, it was done. And I realized this… this bond I thought we had was one-sided. You only let me in ‘cause I was the only one around. You didn't need me anymore and that was… well it was a bitter fuckin’ pill to swallow,” he chuckled but it wasn't happy.

“I’ve never been good with rejection or-or negative feelin’s and shit. It always just turns to anger with me and after Rawlins… it only got worse. My brain got scrambled and sometimes it's so goddamn loud in here that nothin’ makes sense and I lash out,” he sneered at himself, gesturing to his head as he shook it.

“I’m sorry for the way I made you feel. And you don’t gotta believe or forgive me, but I need you to know that. It’s not your problem my mind’s fucked up and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't hate you,” he implored, his gaze turning back to you. It was so earnest that you felt like all the air got sucked out of your lungs. You couldn't help but eye him warily though. You thought you’d gotten to know him in the days spent in here with him, only for him to pull the rug on you.

“This right here, this is the real me. The one that held you when you cried, the one that tried to comfort you and help you through your pain. The asshole you’ve seen since is just… he’s a broken man who can’t make sense of his own head. But that ain’t me,” he uttered softly as his eyes took on a pleading edge.

Part of you couldn't fault him without being a hypocrite. You had a temper yourself, something you knew you got from your father even though it made you sick. Your own negative emotions would often turn into anger instead because it was easier to deal with and it wasn't like you’d never lashed out at anyone because of it or to push them away. You knew he’d been hurtful, you knew he knew it too. But the look on his face right now made you think that he was being honest with you. That he meant it. And you knew it would have taken a lot for him to open up and admit that to you. To apologize. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn't missed the Billy that had taken care of you back then. He’d been so gentle with you, giving you more care and affection than your own parents ever bestowed on you. And you’d felt that bond too which is why you’d been so hurt when he acted like an asshole again. You knew you could make things difficult for him. To laugh at his apology and tell him to go and fuck himself. But you didn't want to. Especially not now with how fragile you were feeling. You blew out a sigh and sagged into the wall a little, trying to ignore how your shoulder was stinging.

“Consider your apology accepted,” you murmured tiredly. When you chanced a look at him, he was staring at you and you both shared a look. It was a strange friendship you had with him in such a short space of time. You’d gone from having issues with each other to connecting over trauma, to having issues again and back to reconnecting. It was giving you whiplash. But you knew this bond you shared wasn't exactly normal, forced out of shared trauma and grief and enough baggage to sink a cruise ship. His lips quirked up into a hesitant smile as he held his arm open for you in invitation. Desperately needing comfort, you scooted right to him, being mindful of your sore shoulder as you curled around him with your head on his chest. You sank into him as he wrapped his arms around you, letting his scent soothe you much like it had when you’d been suffering from withdrawals.

“Does it hurt?” he asked after a peaceful moment of silence.

“What? The overwhelming grief and despair?” you asked self-deprecatingly.

“No, I meant the uh… the gunshot,” he murmured, sounding a little unsure.

“A little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. The gunshot was the least of your worries right now.

“Should get Curtis to look at it. Make sure it's alright,” he mused, fingers toying with your hair. You hummed in agreement, letting the feeling soothe you. The last thing you needed was to have the wound get infected or anything. Then you’d be stuck here longer.

“Everythin’ will be over soon. We’re gonna hit the Irish in two days and I’m gonna make sure they suffer for what they did to you,” he muttered darkly, his arms tightening around you. This time, the idea of violence didn't repulse you. Dean’s lifeless face swarmed your vision again and you closed your eyes to rid yourself of it. You wanted them to suffer for what they’d done. What they’d taken away. You ended up falling asleep against Billy’s chest on the floor as his fingers in your hair soothed you to sleep.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

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fivefeetfangirl · 1 year

Text

In my secret good supernatural where Sam discovers his psychic powers when he's a kid. Read on ao3. Written for samweek2023 @ghostsam @suncaptor

“Dean! Dean, dean!”

The door slammed shut behind Sam and he kicked off his shoes, hurriedly shook off his jacket. He threw the backpack on his bed, forgetting everything about homework.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” came Dean’s voice from the bathroom.

“You’re not gonna believe it!”

Sam almost jumped up and down from excitement.

“Believe what?” Dean asked, wiping his hands on his jeans as he entered the room.

Sam took Dean’s still slightly wet hand and dragged him over to the beds.

“At school today one of the bullies started teasing my friend-”

“He didn’t do anything to you?” Dean asked, searching his little brother’s face for bruises.

“No. no, just let me tell the story,” Sam said and sat Dean down on the bed. He sat down beside Dean, his feet barely grazing the floor beside Dean’s well-planted feet.

“So, the bully started to tease my friend,” Sam began again. “And I didn’t like that, ‘cause he’s my friend, and I care about him!”

Dean nodded as Sam fervently told his story.

“And I took Collin by his arm to get away from Jake, ‘cause Jake was about to punch him, so we ran through the hallway,” Sam’s hands excitedly gestured according to his voice, “but Jake followed us!”

Dean leaned back on his arms, eyes focused on his little brother.

“I dragged Collin after me, but I went the wrong way and suddenly we were trapped in the classroom.” Sam’s eyes widened as he went silent, waiting for Dean to say something.

Dean just stared back, raising his brows in question.

“What happened?” Dean asked after neither of them said anything.

“You’re not gonna believe it!”

“So, what happened?”

“It was so cool, Dean!”

“Sam, come on, tell me.”

“I locked the door with my mind. I didn’t touch the door, I didn’t have the key, I just thought about it, and it closed and locked itself.”

“What?” Dean stuttered. “With your mind?”

“Yeah!”

“No way.”

“I promise, I did it, Collin and Jake saw it too.”

“You have psychic powers?” Dean said almost sarcastically.

“Dunno, it just happened. The teacher had to unlock the door and let us out, I promise I locked it with my mind!”

“Why didn’t you unlock it yourself?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t.”

The boys went silent, Sam staring at his own hands.

“Okay,” Dean clapped his hands together. He got up from the bed and got a spoon from the kitchen bench and put it on the nightstand. He sat down on the other bed, facing Sam.

“Try moving this.”

Sam squinted and focused on the spoon. His brow scrunched up in concentration.

Dean held his breath, unsure of what to think if it was true that Sam could move objects with his mind.

“I swear, Dean! I did close the door with my mind, I promise,” Sam said after a long silence.

When Dean noticed Sam almost started crying he rushed over to his side, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, I believe you Sammy.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll always believe you.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said and hugged Dean back.

~~~

Two weeks went by and their dad had only been back once, just to leave the same day. Sam had wanted to tell him about what he had done, but Dean shook his head slightly when he was about to, so he ended up not telling dad.

“We can’t tell him yet,” Dean had said after dad had left.

“Why not?”

“It would, you know, make him worry, and he worries a lot already.”

“Okay,” Sam answered, not bothering to argue with Dean.

~~~

Another two weeks went by, still in the same motel. They usually never stayed that long, but Sam wasn’t complaining. He liked it here, a good school where he had some good friends. Dean had also been in a good mood and Sam liked it a lot better than when Dean was annoyed at him for everything he did. Instead he now usually had some food prepared for them when Sam got home from school.

Today it was some toast with the special cheese Sam really liked. It was comforting sitting in silence, eating, the only sound being the crunch from the toasted bread.

“Wow, easy tiger,” Dean laughed when Sam took a big bite of the toast.

Sam smiled before he swallowed.

“Do you think I maybe just dreamed it?” he asked.

“Dreamed what?”

“The door thing.”

Dean hummed softly.

“I don’t know what to think, Sam,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve never heard about it before.”

“Our lives aren’t exactly normal though,” Sam sighed.

Dean got up from the table, plate in his hand. He placed the plate in the sink and rinsed it off. As he walked back he stumbled into the chair.

“Dean!”

Sam rose from his chair, and before Dean could hit the floor a pillow from the bed swooped in under him.

Dean landed on the floor with a soft oomph.

“You okay?” Sam asked, leaning down to help Dean up.

“Was that you?” Dean’s eyes were round in shock.

“I don’t know, it just happened.”

“Dude, it was awesome!” Dean said excitingly, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Try it again.”

Dean’s leg went soft and he fell to the ground, the pillow ready to catch him where he landed.

“Yoo, Sam, this is so cool!”

Sam laughed, feeling good now that Dean could believe him a hundred percent.

“If you do it again I won’t bother catching you.”

Dean got up from the ground, an evil grin on his face. He wrapped his arm around Sam’s neck, rubbing his fist into his hair.

Sam laughed, trying to wriggle away.

“I’m never gonna leave the bed now when I have you to get me all my stuff,” Dean said, messing up Sam’s hair.

Sam poked Dean’s side, making Dean loosen his grip, and they fell to the floor. Sam tried to get up but Dean dragged him down and started tickling him.

“Dean! Dean, stop,” Sam managed to get out between laughs.

And for a moment they could forget about the world of monsters outside the motel room, oblivious of the hours in the car that was ahead of them when their dad would get home, and just live in the moment where Sam having powers to move things with his mind was completely insignificant for their futures.

#samweek2023 #sam winchester #he deserves his matilda moment!!!#wincesties dni #asa.fic

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shallowseeker · 8 months

Text

TFW parenting, and pep-talking Jack:

Hey, Sammy DOES come into the domain of Jack's bedroom to act as Jack's father! It's in 14x01, when Dean is missing. :-) (TBF, He does this in 13x03 Patience too but that wasn’t well-received/was perceived by Jack as glib and fake.)

Anyway! This whole episode, Jack is pretty successfully being raised by The Village of Hunters. Everyone steps in: AU Bobby, Mary, Sam, Cas. (Of note, Jack doesn't feel better, really, until he talks to Cas.)

///

In this episode, Jack laments the loss of his powers.

In the Sam scene, Sam tries his best to sit with and comfort Jack, and he mostly does okay with that. Interestingly, Sam emphasizes "moving past it," because that's a Sam way of coping. Dissociate and get back to work.

This is a sharp contrast to when Dean comforted Jack about his nightmares in 13x23, which was to tell him, "It's not about being strong," and emphasize taking care of Jack.

Sam in 14x01:

SAM: I talked to Bobby. He says you may have had a rough day today. JACK (sullen, closed off): It was fine. Sam tries some more. SAM: I know it's a lot, I'm sure, but you can get past this. I know you will. I have faith in you, Jack, and I believe in you. (Mary enters; Jack still looks sullen and upset.)

It's a nice attempt, especially for Sam, who comes by connection in a more practiced, careful, "therapizing" manner. The conversation gets interrupted by Nick Vaught waking up. Nevertheless, even before the interruption, Sam's attempt gives off a stilted feeling, like Sam is reading from a self-help seminar.

He says, "You'll get past this," and "I believe in you." Somehow, it doesn't feel like he's coming down to Jack's level and getting real with him, as Dean and later Cas will do.

///

At the end of the episode, Cas comes into Jack's room, with his own face beaten to a pulp. Cas hasn't healed himself. He's letting Jack see his own weakness here. That it's okay to screw up. They all screw up all the time.

He asks how Jack is, and Jack sullenly mutters (again) that he's fine. Then, Cas tells Jack that he did well, and Jack explodes in a flurry of emotion, easily opening up to Cas: (we’ll see that he is more willing to hurl his genuine emotions at Cas, Mary, Dean…)

JACK: All I did was get punched...in the face! CAS (wryly): To be fair, we all got punched in the face. JACK: That's not--Before, when I had my powers, I-I could've done something. CAS (frankly): Jack, you don't-- you don't have your powers. And you- your grace should regenerate in time. But until then-- JACK: I'm useless. I can't kill demons, I can't find Dean, and Michael is in our world and I can't stop him. I can't do anything. I don't have...anything. CAS: Oh, Jack. That's just not true. You've got me. You have all of us. (touches shoulder) You have...your family. (then, passionately) And we are going to find Dean, and we are going to beat Michael, and we're going to do it together! Because that's what we do.

Cas's message seems to get through to Jack a little better here, though Jack is still uncertain and scared. Cas, like Dean, keeps it real with Jack (just like they keep it real with Claire). It doesn't sound so...canned. (Sorry, Sam. Ilu. You try so hard.)

Cas talks frankly: "Yes, you've lost your powers." He also, like Dean, emphasizes familial support and delivers a message of hope and unshakeable confidence.

///

Lastly, Jack is in his "Rocky Balboa" era. It's so adorable. I just wanted to point out his lil jogger outfit and make you imagine him training to "Gonna Fly Now." You're welcome.

No, literally. This is Jack is 14x01, except he's (somewhat hilariously) getting the crap kicked out of him:

youtube

#spn parenting #sam & jack #cas & jack #dean & jack #mary & jack #au bobby & jack #spn + rocky #Youtube #spn 14x01 #spn strangers in a strange land

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bitchinfawkseh · 4 months

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Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 5

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Summary: Cheryl and Sam desperately try to find a way to save Dean after he gets permanent heart damage after being electrocuted by a monster.

W.C: 12 842

Warnings: religious trauma, religious guilt, sex dream, reference to drugs and domestic abuse (1).

[A/N] Warning for drug and domestic abuse references, also, there's a parallel between this chapter and s3 e10 (basically Dean has a sex dream about cheryl) Abigail and the guy beside her (Isaiah) belong to my friend! It was just a sweet Easter egg, check out their fic

Masterlist | AO3

"Nebraska? There's someone in Nebraska who can help him?" Cheryl asked in shock. Sam's knee brushed against Cheryl's as he spun his laptop around to show her the screen. Her face fell once she realized it wasn't a doctor or a licensed professional to help Dean, it was some faith healer. Now, she believed in all that stuff, but this was just pushing it. "Seriously? A faith healer - those are nothing but a scam, Sam." She said. Sam sighed and reached behind him to grab a journal he had sprawled across the bedspread. Her brows raised and her nails dug into her bare knees, one of her favourite things to wear to bed was a satin nightgown and a hoodie. And plus - Sam wasn't flirty with her like Dean was, there was no way this would get sexual at all.

"This is our Dad's journal, and there is nothing that gives us any info on how we can help Dean." Sam said as he passed the journal to her. Cheryl flipped through the pages, the writings in here - the drawings, this was pretty damn impressive. "We have to try this guy... just in case it does work." He added. Cheryl's lips flattened into a straight line and her dark brown eyes met his. She gave him a slight nod and looked back to the journal, "Okay." She barely had the chance to say anything else when there was a knock at the door.

Cheryl and Sam shared a nervous look before he slowly slid off the bed and went to check the peep hole. She slowly rose out of the bed and crossed her arms against her chest. "Who is it?" She asked. Sam didn't answer, he just swung the door open and ushered a sickly, pale looking Dean inside. "Why aren't you at the hospital!?" Cheryl and Sam questioned in unison. Dean smirked and gave Cheryl a slight nod in recognition as he moved along the wall into the room. "Checked myself out." He replied. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, she had to turn away from him - if she looked at him any longer she may punch him.

"Dean - you can't just leave -" Sam started as he watched Dean practically collapse onto the free bed. "Well, I just did." Dean interrupted. Cheryl glared down at him and all he did was flash her a grin. "You're an idiot, you should have stayed at the hospital. Do you have a death wish or something?" She scolded. Dean was often reckless when it came to his own well-being and it honestly concerned her - although she'd never say it out loud, she wished he cared about himself more so that she wouldn't have to. "I'm already dying, they can't do shit for me." Dean scoffed. She rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before having an complete outburst. "We have something in Nebraska! Someone who can help you!" She yelled. Cheryl let out a little huff and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Before anyone could say anything, she turned on her heel and snatched up the lighter and cigarette pack on the desk by the door. "I need a smoke." She grumbled angrily as she slammed the door shut behind her.

"So... Nebraska?" Dean asked with a slight raise of his brow. Sam glanced over and nodded, he muttered a "yeah" and took a seat on the bed across from Dean. They were silent again for a bit, Dean stared at the door waiting for Cheryl's return and Sam picked through their dad's journal. "Do you think Cheryl likes me?" Dean asked quietly. Sam let out a chuckle and he raised his brows, was it even a question that needed to be answered? "No, dude. She hates you." He laughed. Dean frowned and his eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Well, how do I make her like me?"

Sam shrugged and pursed his lips together, "I dunno, just... give her some time to get to know you. It's only been two months, dude."

Cheryl came back 10 minutes later and headed straight to the bathroom to wash her hands. She set a water bottle on the nightstand by Dean's bed and stared down at him, "Sit up." She ordered.

"What?"

"Sit up!" She hissed. Dean grumbled and sat up on his elbows, he expected her to do anything but this. She fluffed up his pillow and pulled the blankets up over him. "Should get you some garlic to eat, it's good for your heart." She mumbled as she gently placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back down. Dean flushed and swallowed hard, "Huh?" Dean glanced over at Sam nervously and all he had was a smug smile on his face. Dean was being babied by a woman who hates him.

She smoothed the covers over his chest and sighed deeply, "I'll get you some garlic cloves tomorrow, and you are eating them whether you like it or not."

Dean chewed on his lip and watched her intently, "Uh, what does it do?" He asked. She sat down on the bed across from him and cocked a brow. "Well, it lowers blood pressure, regulates cholesterol, prevents cell damage," She gestured towards him. "Are you comfortable?" Dean nodded and she pursed her lips together, her phone started buzzing on the bedside table. "Excuse me, I have to take this." She said urgently as she snatched up the phone and rushed to the bathroom.

She flipped the phone open and turned on the tap to drown out their conversation. "Carlos! Hi." Cheryl beamed. Carlos was the one person who has been there for her, always, he was the one who helped her learn English when she first came to the States - and he was even one of her chambelanes at her quinceanera. "Hey, Cherry." He grunted. Her face fell and she swallowed hard, he was upset - she could tell by the sound of his voice. "How is Marisol?" Cheryl asked quietly.

"Not good, she's gettin' real bad, Cherry." He whispered, his voice hoarse as if he was trying not to cry. Marisol - Carlos' wife - was probably the sweetest woman she has ever met and she had pancreatic cancer. In situations like this, Cheryl wondered if there even was a God out there - why would he allow such horrible things happen to such good people?

Cheryl sat on the edge of the tub and frowned, "I'm so sorry, cariño." She whispered. Carlos chuckled tearfully and sniffled which just made her heart drop. It pained her to see her friends suffer this much. "She keeps askin' me to paint her nails a different colour every day 'cause..." He trailed off. Because she can't do it herself anymore. She smiled a little bit, "Yeah? You better be painting her nails, Carlos."

"Of course I am, what kind of husband do you think I am?" He chuckled. Cheryl grinned fondly, he's always been a good husband.

Cheryl shoved her phone into her pocket and shut off the tap before opening the door. Sam noticed the tears in her eyes and his face fell, "Are you okay?" He asked softly. Cheryl pushed past him and groaned which caught Dean's attention. "Woah, what's wrong with you?" Dean questioned with a raised brow. Cheryl collapsed into the free bed and let out a deep sigh, why are these boys so nosy?

"Do you think she's going to get better?" Cheryl asked innocently. She doesn't even know why she asked that, she knew the answer. They discovered her cancer at stage 4, and with the type of cancer it was, there wasn't much they could do. Carlos sighed. "No. That's why I called you... we're moving her into end of life care."

"Hospice?" She breathed out. Her heart felt like this deadweight in her chest and tears welled in her eyes. Marisol didn't deserve to go out like this, she should have been eighty - not thirty - and have gone peacefully instead of in pain. "Yeah, I'll - I'll call you when it happens." She nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in her throat, "Okay, yeah," There was a soft knock on the door and she glanced up, probably Sam considering Dean was... sick. "Look, I gotta go. I'm sorry, love you."

"No worries, love you, bye."

It only took a few minutes for every one to wind down and for the lights to go out. Sam and Cheryl stuck to their respective sides of the bed, never touching each other once throughout the night.

"Just... not now. Please." She whispered. Cheryl sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as she debated whether or not to tell them about this. "Sam and I can share a bed tonight, since Dean is a sick little boy and deserves a bed to himself." She teased all of the sudden. Dean's eyes widened and he looked between Cheryl and Sam, no way Sammy got to share a bed with her. Cheryl gestured toward Sam and clasped her hands together in her lap. "If you're comfortable of course, I can go get another room." She added.

"Or - you know, crazy concept - but you and I could share a bed?" Dean suggested with a smirk. Cheryl shot him a glare and her nose wrinkled in disgust. "No." She said bluntly. Cheryl stared up at Sam expectantly, waiting for his answer. He nodded and shrugged, "Yeah, I don't have an issue with it." He said.

The rumbling of her bike died down as she pulled the keys out of the ignition. Cheryl was sort of thankful she wasn't in the Impala to hear Dean's whining about the faith healer. They didn't tell him anything about it until they arrived, otherwise Dean wouldn't have been cooperative when it came to coming here.

Dean shoved Sam off of him and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I got it." He grumbled angrily under his breath. Cheryl sauntered over to the two of them and chuckled softly, "That's a shame, I was about to offer you my arm." Dean's brows shot up and he glanced over at her with wide eyes. Was she being serious? "Wait, really?"

She snorted and smirked, "No." His face fell and Sam let out a chuckle, shaking his head at their banter.

Soft rain fell from the sky and pattered against the ground and their coats, almost everyone had an umbrella as they headed into the tent. Except for them of course. "What? Do they expect us to believe that this is real?" Dean scoffed. Cheryl shot him a look and crossed her arms against her chest, she didn't believe in any of this stuff either but it didn't mean that they got to act like they are better than the people who do believe in it. "Be respectful, Dean." She hissed. Dean's brows shot up and he scoffed in disbelief, he subconsciously leaned into Sam. It felt weird feeling constantly weak and tired, he's never been like this before. "I thought you guys said we were going to see a doctor."

"I believe I said specialist. Look, Dean, this guy is supposed to be the real deal." Sam said. Cheryl reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a little crumbled plastic bag with a single head of garlic inside. She was being serious when she told Dean that she'd be making him eat garlic cloves, it is good for him.

"I can't believe you brought me out here to some guy that heals people out of a tent." Dean muttered. Cheryl peeled the skin off the garlic head and passed him one of the cloves. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head away, Cheryl's eyes sharpened and she continued to hold it up. "Eat it." She demanded. He sighed deeply and plucked it from her fingers, popping it in his mouth and cringing as he started to chew it. How in the hell was it spicy? "Hey, you better not spit it out." Cheryl warned. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the slight tears welling in his eyes. "I mean, come on. A faith healer?" He asked.

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean." Sam sighed deeply. Cheryl tucked the rest of the garlic cloves back into the plastic bag and shoved it back into her coat pocket. "You know what I got faith in? Reality. Knowing what's really going on." Dean shot back. Sam frowned and his brows knitted together, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day? How do you know that good isn't out there too?" He asked. Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and she glanced up at Dean, her eyes softening ever so slightly as she watched Dean scoff and look at the ground. "Because I've seen what evil does to good people." Dean answered simply. Her lips curved down into a frown and she quickly glanced away before Dean could catch her staring and tease her for it again. Cheryl understood both of the boys perspectives, Dean’s... it resonated with her, and not for the reasons he may think.

Cheryl's eyes narrowed and she grit her teeth, she was currently fighting the urge to start a fight with Dean. What did he mean by her being "Sam's friend," she was both of their friends - she just enjoyed teasing Dean more than she did Sam. As an older woman came up behind Layla, presumably her mother, Cheryl cleared her throat and excused herself. She'll be damned if she let Dean's words get to her.

A pretty young blonde woman overheard their conversation and turned to face them, the soft rain pittering against her umbrella. "Maybe God works in mysterious ways." She quipped up, a sweet smile on her face. Dean smirked and looked her up and down, quite obviously checking her out. "Maybe he does, I think you just turned me around on the subject." He mused. Cheryl and Sam both rolled their eyes practically in unison, here he goes again. The blonde smiled again and nodded slowly, "I'm sure." She said.

"I'm Dean," He gestured towards the two behind him and smiled charmingly. "This is Sam and Cheryl." Cheryl gave her a small wave and a half smile as Dean outstretched his hand toward the woman for her to shake. "Layla," She replied, taking his hand. "So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?" Layla asked as she cocked her head to the side. Dean chuckled and shook his head, he always did that when he found something funny. "Well, my brother and his friend here believes enough for the three of us."

Dean's brows shot up and he glanced over at Sam, "What's got her panties up in a bunch?" He asked. Sam sighed deeply and shouldered his way into the tent, minding the flap and the rows of chairs that were immediately in the way. "Probably hurt her feelings." Sam stated as if it were obvious. Dean laughed, he thought it was a joke at first until Sam didn't laugh with him. His face fell and they filed into the row of seats up front that Cheryl secured for them. "Seriously?" He whispered. Sam nodded and sat down next to Cheryl who paid no mind to Dean. He swallowed hard and stared at her for a long while before focusing his attention up at the front.

Cheryl crossed one leg over the other and stared blankly up at the front, with the way she was scrunching her lips together there was no doubt in her mind that she looked like a complete bitch right now. Someone to her left gently tapped her arm and Cheryl jerked her head over into their direction. She cocked a brow as she realized it was a cute, round faced, red-headed young woman. "Are you okay?" She whispered. Cheryl’s brows furrowed in confusion and she leaned toward the woman. "Pardon me?" Cheryl asked. The woman smiled and pushed her glasses up with her middle finger. "You just seem upset is all, I'm Abigail." She introduced herself and extended a hand for Cheryl to shake. Cheryl returned her smile half heartedly, muttering her own name back quietly and shook her hand, it wouldn't hurt to chat before the service began.

Cheryl pointed to the brothers who were beside her and leaned into Abigail. "See the sick fucking idiot over there? Yeah, he basically said we aren't friends even though we've been on the road together for what? Two months now and I've seen his stupid face every day. He said I was just his brother's friend." Cheryl whispered angrily. Abigail's eyes widened and she gasped, her gaze flitted between the boys for a moment. "That is rude." She commented.

"I know." Cheryl groaned with an eye roll. She crossed her arms against her chest and slumped back in the uncomfortable chair. "Might as well spit in my face." Cheryl added, a little louder this time. She wanted Dean to hear them.

A taller man spoke up from beside Abigail, dark circles hung from his eyes and he had shaggy brown hair. "Yeah, dude it's red." He spoke up. Dean's brows knitted together in confusion and he clicked his tongue before looking away and slumping back in his chair. "Alright, red. Got it." Dean muttered. Sam discreetly nudged Dean with his elbow and snickered, "Told you that you hurt her feelings." He whispered. Dean jerked away from his touch and crossed his arms against his chest as all conversations around them seemed to die down. "Yeah, yeah..."

Sam and Dean both glanced over at the girls, now Cheryl wasn't one to start bantering with a stranger - this must be important. She shot Dean a glare and shrugged, "I would introduce you to him, Abigail. But he said we aren't friends so I don't see the point." She said plainly. Dean's eyes narrowed and Sam let out a snort, quickly concealing his mouth with his hand and covering it up by clearing his throat. "Didn't know you considered us friends since you never tell me anything about you." Dean snapped. Cheryl's eyes widened and she scrunched her lips together, he did not just go there. "Don't ask such invasive questions." She retorted. Dean scoffed and raised his brows in disbelief, "Asking you what your favorite colour is, is invasive?"

"It is." She shot back. Cheryl glanced back at Abigail who nodded in agreement, the curly stray strands of her hair falling into her face. "It is," Abigail repeated. She gestured towards Cheryl's red leather jacket and her chipped ruby nail polish. "Her favorite colour is obviously red. Why should you even have to ask?" She flashed the boys a smile as she finished off. Cheryl let out a little chuckle and pointed towards Abigail, "Isn't she just magical? She doesn't even know me but she knows my favorite colour," Cheryl wrinkled her nose. "Based on observation."

An older man with big glasses came onto stage, he looked like one of those typical guys who you'd always see at Sunday service. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?" He began. The crowd murmured in agreement and Cheryl tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Now it was time to be respectful and quiet, it cost nothing to show respect for others. "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act." Roy frowned. Cheryl swallowed hard and let out a shaky sigh, choosing to stare down at her feet instead. These types of things made her feel all ill and shaky, they made her feel like she wasn't a good Catholic - or worse, that she was going to go to Hell because God doesn't love her.

"But I tell you, God is watching." Roy continued. The crowd continued to whisper and mummer, finally an obvious "Yes he is." Rippled through the rows of people. A wave of nausea washed over her and she clutched her jacket, unknowingly she started to bounce her leg. "And he punishes the corrupt and rewards the good." He said. The crowd cheered and clapped as they agreed with his statement. Cheryl squeezed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head, "No he doesn't." She mumbled quietly in disbelief under her breath.

Things just seemed to keep moving, Roy was saying things but they weren't fully registering in her brain. "It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts." He said. Dean leaned towards Cheryl and Sam and snorted, "Yeah, and into their wallets."

"You think so, young man?" Roy said, looking in the general direction of them. Dean's face fell and his lips thinned into a straight line, all eyes were on him now and the crowd was completely silent. This was awkward. "Sorry."

"No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, son, we got real sharp ears." Roy chuckled. Cheryl smiled a little bit as the crowd laughed and glanced over at Dean.

"I'm not exactly a believer." Dean chuckled nervously as Roy gently touched his arm. Roy smiled, if it weren't for the glasses and the fact that he was blind, Dean would've swore that he was looking at him. "You will be, son. You will be," He said. "Pray with me friends!" Roy exclaimed as he slowly raised a hand into the air. The crowd lifted their hands into the air, their hands conjoined by one another as they mummered prayers. Cheryl and Sam glanced around, seeming to be the odd ones out when it came to this.

Dean flushed a bit in embarrassment and looked anywhere but the stage. He hadn't really expected to be called out like that, especially by the host of the whole event. "What's your name, son?" He asked. Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his thigh, hesitating for a moment before he answered. "Dean."

"Well, Dean. I want you to come up here with me." Roy said. Cheryl and Sam's eyes widened and they both glanced over at Dean who refused his offer. Sue Ann moved to the centre stage near the steps that led up to it, a soft smile on her face. "Dean, what are you doing? Go!" Sam urged. Dean let out a sigh and glanced over to Cheryl who motioned for him to go up. "You've come to be healed, haven't cha?" Dean blinked and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, he didn't really know what to say. "I mean, yes - but..." The crowd clapped and made some encouraging hoots, they all believed that he should go up. The Lord picked him after all.

"Maybe - maybe you should pick someone else." Dean called out. Sam's brows furrowed and he looked Dean up and down as if he was insane. Roy chuckled, "I didn't pick you, the Lord did." He replied. Cheryl glanced between the stage and Dean, "Go! Dean, please." She said, her voice dipping as she pleaded. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his brows furrowed a bit, it only took a second for him to make a decision and rise out of his seat.

Roy placed a hand on Dean's arm, then to the side of his head. Cheryl held her breath and she perked up in her seat as Dean slowly sunk to his knees and his eyes glazed over. Suddenly, he wobbled and fell back onto the stage. Sam was quick to jump from his chair, as was Cheryl as the crowd clapped and cheered. "Dean!" Sam yelled as he rushed to his side and gripped the front of his hoodie just as Cheryl knelt down beside them. Dean's eyes flew open and he gasped as he came to, "Say something!" Sam begged. His eyes briefly settled on this tall, pasty white figure behind Roy - he was in a suit and his snowy hair was combed back. He didn't look... human. And as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared. "What the hell -" He started but Cheryl quickly and unsuspectedly wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Thank God you're okay." She said, her voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. Dean's eyes widened and he nervously glanced up at Sam who only shrugged before Dean loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, returning her hug.

Dean sat on the uncomfortable cot in the doctor's office, the sound of a crinkling plastic sheet anytime he moved filled the air. "So you really feel okay?" Sam asked. Dean sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, he swore - if another person asked if he was okay he was going to punch them. "Yes." He growled under his breath. The doctor skimmed through his file and tapped the back of the clipboard. "Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen." He said. Cheryl nibbled on her bottom lip and glanced over at Dean for a moment, either Roy was the real deal or the garlic worked a little too well. "What do you mean, strange?" Dean asked. Sam and Cheryl shared a knowing look and she crossed her arms against her chest before turning her attention back to Dean's doctor. "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack." He explained.

"Wow, that's awful." Cheryl murmured under her breath. Dean nodded towards the doctor as he was leaving the room, "Thanks Doc."

"No problem."

"That's odd." Dean commented as he shrugged his coat on. Sam sighed and scrunched his lips up, he wanted to just believe that this was a miracle - nothing more. "Look, Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?" Sam said. Dean hopped off the cot and made his move towards the door, he held it open for Cheryl after he and Sam walked through. "Gracias." She smiled and he nodded slightly in response.

"Because I've got this feeling." Dean answered.

"What feeling?" Cheryl asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, he didn't want to seem like a freak or crazy. It didn't even fully make sense to him - he didn't expect Cheryl to understand (Sammy probably would.) "When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit." He finally said. Cheryl's heart dropped and there was a gnawing feeling in her stomach. If this spirit healed Dean - then maybe they could unheal him.

Dean swerved down the gravel road leading up to Roy and Sue Ann's house. He tapped the steering wheel with his pointer and glanced over at Cheryl for a split second. She was staring out the window, like she has been for the past twenty minutes. She hasn't said a word to him this entire ride - he assumed that they were good now because she hugged him and all that. But apparently not.

"But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately." Sam said. He glanced over at Cheryl momentarily, he hadn't exactly told her about the headaches, the visions - the dreams. But she was smart and there was no doubt in his mind that she wasn't catching on. Dean rolled his eyes and his lips thinned into a straight line, an unamused look painted across his face. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

Sam sighed, "So, what do you want to do then?"

"You're gonna check out the heart attack guy, me and Cher are gonna go see the reverend."

"Sorry for the shit that happened yesterday." Dean said quietly. Cheryl sighed deeply and her head fell back into the seat. "It's fine. I don't exactly blame you for thinking we aren't friends. I don't tell you anything." She muttered. Dean's lips thinned into a straight line and he opened his mouth to say something and hesitated. He didn't want to force her to open up to him - she owed him nothing. "My, uh, mom - when I was a kid, she died in a fire. I carried Sammy out of the house while my dad tried to save her." He said quietly, his voice was strained like it physically pained him to talk about this. Cheryl frowned and swallowed hard, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced back at Dean, her gaze softening. "That sucks, I'm sorry."

"It is what it is." He replied bluntly. Maybe if his dad finds the damn thing that killed her then things will finally be at peace.

Everything Dean initially thought about Cheryl was wrong, she wasn't rude or abrasive, arrogant or bitchy. She was just... Cheryl, and she wasn't ready to let people in, and now, Dean understood that.

Dean shifted into park and pulled the keys out of the ignition, he was about to climb out of the car when she sucked in a sharp breath. Dean looked up, only to see that she was already staring at him. "My dad... he - he wasn't really around growing up, I mean - he was, but -... he was always either on coke or some other street drug." Cheryl shyly looked away and rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans. "So, he was usually in some sort of drugged out coma or beating on my mom." She flashed him an uneasy smile and let out a little chuckle. "Looks like we both had shit childhoods."

Dean blinked. "Yeah, no kidding."

Dean swallowed hard and tapped his knees, they hadn't left the Impala quite yet. He glanced over at her and jerked his head towards the house, "You ready?" He asked. Cheryl shook her head and her lips thinned into a straight line. "No, you go ahead. Can't deal with any more faith stuff right now. I'll wait here." She said. When they first left together, she fully intended to go into the reverend's house with Dean - but she just didn't have the energy anymore. He nodded slowly in understanding and Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll tell Sam to meet us at the McDonald's, I want some chicken nuggets." She muttered. Dean snorted and grinned as he looked her up and down. "You want chicken nuggets?" He asked. Even Dean couldn't deny that chicken nuggets were good, especially after a long day. "Yeah, so hurry up." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Dean sat down on a plush couch with little floral decals on the fabric, and of course, it smelt like old people. Roy sat directly across from Dean on a matching sofa and Sue Ann poured them each a glass of water. Dean smiled a bit and nodded in thanks, "I feel great. Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened." He said.

"A miracle is what happened. Well, miracles come so often around Roy." Sue Ann spoke up. Dean spared her a quick glance and leaned toward Roy, his hands clasped together and resting on his knees. "When did it start? The miracles?"

"Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.' I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone." Roy said. He took off his glasses, revealing his white eyes, "If it weren't for my eyes, no one would believe me." He added.

"And you could suddenly heal people afterward?" Dean confirmed. Roy sucked in a breath and slowly nodded as he put his glasses back on. "Yes, God blessed me in many ways." Well, that was a load of bull.

Dean swallowed hard and his lips thinned into a straight line, he didn't believe Roy one bit. "Can I ask one more question?" He asked politely. He knew Cheryl would be glad that he was so nice and "respectful," even though she wasn't here, he'd rather not risk an earful about manners. Roy nodded and his lips quirked up into a smile, "Of course you can."

Dean hesitated for a moment and his eyes darted around as if he was trying to "dance around" the question. "Why me? Why did you choose to save me out of all of the other sick people?"

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest." Roy answered simply.

"What did you see in my heart?"

"A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished."

Dean slammed the car door shut as he climbed into the driver's seat, startling Cheryl. "We're goin' back to the motel." He said bluntly. Cheryl pouted her lips together and her brows furrowed, whatever happened in there did not leave him in a good mood. "But chicken nuggets..." She trailed off. Dean sighed deeply and checked over his shoulder, placing his hand on the back of Cheryl's seat as he spun out of the parking spot. Her eyes widened and she flushed, butterflies started to flutter in her stomach. "We can go through the drive-thru or something, tell Sam to meet us at the room." He replied. Cheryl swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, he was in a... mood. It was always obvious when Dean was upset about something, he wasn't very good at hiding it. "What's got you upset?" She asked.

"Nothing."

Cheryl scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Winchester." Her voice was laced with disbelief and slight sarcasm. They both knew that she knew that he was a load of bullshit.

Dean threw his keys onto his bed and shrugged off his coat just as Cheryl shoved a chicken nugget into her mouth. Dean bought at least twenty chicken nuggets on the condition that she would share - which she did... for the most part. Sam - who was sitting at a round table with his laptop glanced up as they came in. "What'd you find out?" Dean asked Sam as he popped a nugget in his mouth. Sam frowned and his eyes met Cheryl's and her heart dropped. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. "I'm sorry..." He whispered. Dean cocked a brow and obnoxiously (with his mouth closed, of course) chewed and tossed his coat onto the bed. "Sorry about what?" He questioned as he approached Sam. Cheryl set the bag full of food on the nightstand and came up behind Dean, shoving her hands into her back pockets. "Sam?" She said when he didn't say anything.

Sam sighed deeply and gave Dean that infamous puppy dog look, "Marshall Hall died at 4:17."

Cheryl's eyes widened and her arms dropped to her sides, she murmured a string of cuss words in Spanish. Dean's lips parted and he swallowed hard, "The exact time I was healed." He whispered.

"Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time." Sam said, pointing to his laptop. Cheryl stepped forward and leaned down over Sam's shoulder, squinting as she read over what was on the screen. "So someone is healed of cancer - and then someone else dies of cancer?" Dean confirmed.

"Looks like it..." Cheryl sighed.

"Legrange is trading one life for another - I don't know how, but he is." Sam added. Dean palmed his face and rubbed it, slowly turning his back to the pair as his mind raced. His eyes narrowed and he spun around to face them, "Wait, wait, wait - so Marshall Hall died to save me?" He asked. Cheryl's face fell and her posture straightened, she couldn't even imagine the guilt he must be feeling right now - "Dean," She started gently. Sam's brows furrowed and he frowned, his nose slightly scrunching as his emotions appeared clear as day. "The guy probably would have died anyway and someone else would've been healed." He interrupted.

Dean slowly shook his head, his lips curling in disappointment and his jaw flexed. "You should have never brought me here." He said bluntly. Cheryl frowned and she fiddled with her fingers, twisting and pulling and pinching. "Sam was just trying to save your life, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Now some guy is dead because of me." He shot back.

"We didn't know." Sam said quietly.

Cheryl's lips scrunched to one side and she crossed her arms, "How is Roy doing all this, though? Trading one life for another." She asked.

"Oh, he's not. Someone else is doing it for him." Dean quickly answered, his green eyes briefly meeting hers. Her brows furrowed in confusion and when she didn't look away, Dean averted his gaze. "What do you mean?" Sam asked. Dean blinked rapidly and a muscle in his jaw flexed, he didn't want to believe it - but all indicators were pointing to yes. "The old man on the stage, I didn't wanna believe it but..." He trailed off. Cheryl's brows shot up and she gestured her hands for him to continue. "But what?"

"There's only one thing that can give and take life like that. We're dealing with a reaper."

Cheryl sighed and parted her legs as she attempted to crack her back on the chair while listening to Sam and Dean’s chatting. "You really think it's the Grim Reaper - you know, the angel of death, take your soul?" Sam asked, his brows raising. Dean opened his mouth to respond and Cheryl's knee bumped against his. A shiver went up his spine and there was this odd warm feeling in his stomach - and it disappeared as soon as she mumbled an apology and moved away. Cheryl then shrugged, "There are many Reapers from different cultures. Not just one - like in my culture we call her Santa Muerte."

"Your reaper is a chick?" Dean asked.

She rolled her eyes and sighed deeply, "In a sense, yes."

Sam sucked in a breath, "But you said you saw a dude in a suit."

"What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?....You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't." Dean snorted. Cheryl grinned a bit and fixed her hair into a low ponytail. She preferred to have it loose and natural most of the time but right now it was just an inconvenience. She glanced over at Sam and adjusted the strap of her low-cut tank top. "I think Dean is right, what else would it be?"

"That cross." He murmured under his breath. Cheryl cocked a brow and shot Dean a look only to see he was already staring at her. His eyes were settled on her chest, if there was a God out there, she was certainly blessed.

Cheryl cleared her throat and Dean flushed and his eyes widened as if he was a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "What?" Sam, who had no idea what was going on, just answered his question. "There was a cross in the church, I had seen it before but I couldn't remember where until," He flipped through some papers on the table and then held up a card. Dean leaned in and plucked it from his hand, "A tarot?" He questioned.

Sam nodded, "It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early christian era right, when some priests were still using magic? And a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?"

"So you're saying that Roy binded a reaper using magic?" Cheryl asked with a cocked brow. Dean passed her the card and she inspected it thoroughly, they reminded her of the card game that her mother would always play with her aunts and uncles - Lotería. "If he is, he's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white." Sam snorted.

Now this is where Dean liked to spend his time, his head between the legs of a gorgeous woman. Her short mini skirt was bunched up at her hips, and Dean's tongue delved in her folds and her glistening pussy. God, he would eat pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he could.

Dean took his empty mug to the sink and rinsed it, "Okay, then we stop Roy." He called back over the running water. Cheryl cocked a brow and her and Sam both side-eyed each other. "How?" She spoke up. He sighed and turned, he leaned against the countertop and crossed his arms against his chest. "You know how." He said simply. Sam's brows shot up and he scoffed in disbelief, "Dude, we're not gonna kill Roy."

Dean rolled his eyes, "The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book." Cheryl wrinkled her nose and her lips curved in disgust, she couldn't even believe that he would suggest something like that - killing a man. A human man. "We are not going to kill him, we are no better than he is at that point." She said.

"Got any bright ideas then, smartie pants?" Dean smirked, looking her up and down. Cheryl grinned back, she closed her eyes and scrunched her nose at him. "Yes, it entails shutting the hell up and stop suggesting murder." She sneered. Sam snorted and Dean simply rolled his eyes, maybe they shouldn't murder the guy but how else were they supposed to stop him? "If Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta...figure out what it is. And how to break it." Sam said. Cheryl nodded in agreement and patted him on the back as praise. "Right again, Sam."

He suckled at the clit, the immediate moans of gratification it brought out of this girl nearly made him cum right there. "Shit, baby. You taste good." He purred, his voice muffled by a face full of cunt. Her fingers threaded through his hair and her hips jutted into his face. Dean grinned and his grip on her thighs tightened, he was sure that his hands may cramp later.

Her body tensed and she arched her back into him as she came all over his face. Lapping up all of her juices gratefully, Dean moved up to check out the post-orgasm afterglow that every chick always had. Dean grinned and admired how Cheryl's hair stuck to her forehead from sweat. Then, their lips met in a passionate and intimate kiss.

Dean's eyes flew open as Cheryl smacked his bare leg and he was immediately aware of the fact that he had a raging hard on and he was wearing boxer briefs. She grinned and cocked a brow, tilting her head "Nice ass, Winchester." She teased. Thank God that he was on his stomach - this whole situation was just utterly humiliating. He had a sex dream about Cheryl, woke up with a boner, and he wasn't wearing anything but underwear and a t-shirt. Dean thought she was hot, sure - he would totally fuck her given the chance. But he didn't have feelings for her - that would be stupid. If anything he just dreamed of the possibility of having a friends with benefits situation.

Dean waited about 10 minutes before reluctantly going to shower and to rub one out. Sammy must have come back from his morning jog (which he does every morning now to deal with the nightmares) because he heard a loud annoyed sigh outside the door as he stepped out of the shower. "Calm your tits, pretty boy. I'll be out in a damn sec." Dean called out, a wide grin on his face. There was some more incoherent grumbling and Dean chuckled and shook his head. He wiped the steam off the mirror and ran a hand through his messy and unkempt hair. He had to be quick with getting dressed and presentable if he didn't want to hear Sammy's bitching.

He tugged the sheets up to cover himself and forced a smirk on his face. "Back at cha, sweetheart." He replied. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his messy hair. He wasn't gonna move off of his stomach, he felt like a horny teenager again, having sex dreams over a hot woman in his vicinity. Cheryl set her coat down onto the bed and crossed her arms against her chest. "You gonna get up? We have shit to do." She asked. Dean swallowed hard and his mind blanked, shit, he slowly shook his head and relaxed back into the mattress and pillows. "Nah, gimme a minute," He said. His brows raised and he smiled hopefully, "Can you get some coffee, though?" Cheryl sighed and then nodded slowly, she pulled on her leather jacket and fixed her hair so it wasn't caught. "Better be ready when I get back." She warned.

"I will be, and make sure it's bl-"

"Black. I know." Cheryl interrupted as she made her way towards the door. Dean's lips thinned and then he called out a thanks as she left. Hopefully this damn woody would go away on its own.

Just as Dean came out of the bathroom, Cheryl was back with coffees. She passed Sam one and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she pulled Dean's coffee out of the cup holder. "What took you so long?" Dean asked as he took a sip. He wrinkled his nose and his mouth curved in distaste as a sickeningly sweet liquid hit his tongue. "Oh, shit. Sorry. That's mine." Cheryl quickly passed him the cup in her hands and took back the one he had. Dean coughed and his brows furrowed as he chuckled, "Do you even like coffee at this point? That's like... pure sugar."

"Oh my God, shut up." She shot back with an eye roll. Sam set his cup down on the table and carefully walked past Cheryl and Dean. Unfortunately, she got a whiff of his post workout smell. Cheryl gagged and stepped away, nearly bumping into Dean. She didn't want to be rude, so she didn't say anything until the bathroom door was shut and locked. "Does he normally stink that bad?" She asked, glancing up at Dean. His lips quirked up into a smirk and he gulped back some black coffee this time. "Oh, yeah."

Cheryl stepped out of the Impala, soft rain pittering against her coat. She didn't mind riding in the backseat, in fact, she preferred it because half of the time Sam and Dean would forget that she's there and wouldn't talk to her.

Cheryl sat down on the edge of Dean's bed and her finger circled the rim of her cup. "So, we're going to today's service and gonna snoop around?" She asked. Dean nodded and sat down next to her, he shrugged and his lips thinned. "Pretty much, yeah." He answered. Cheryl frowned and sighed deeply, she really didn't want to do this. "I feel bad, Roy seems so... nice. Do you really think it's him?" She glanced up at Dean, Roy didn't seem like a monster - or one of those guys who was just a massive bigot. "Yeah, who else would it be?"

Cheryl shrugged and looked away, "I don't know, maybe some weirdo that's obsessed with God or something. I just don't think that it's Roy." She said. Cheryl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and swallowed hard. "I went to church all the time growing up, and guys like Roy - they'd never even hurt a fly. He's the type to teach Sunday school - not that we do that, but still. There were also people who claimed that they were good, but they weren't. We should watch for other people, suspicious people." Cheryl said. Dean nodded slowly and he rubbed his thigh, she could be right. It might be someone else doing it for Roy, although he didn't understand why she cared so much - he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. "We'll look into it." He promised.

Sam and Cheryl snuck around the house, waiting near a hidden spot by the porch for Sue Ann and Roy to pass. They were quick to make their move, climbing into an open window and beginning to search the house. Cheryl pointed to a book on the shelf that Sam was checking out, "That one doesn't have dust." She whispered. He pulled the heavy encyclopedia off of the shelf and realized that there was a much smaller book hidden behind it. The two of them shared a look and Sam started to flip through it, there was an image of a reaper - the same cross Sam saw, and then articles. Cheryl's face fell when she realized that they were targeting people who weren't "holy." The man who died for Dean was an openly gay teacher, and the woman who recently died was an abortion rights advocate. "This is fucked up." Cheryl whispered under her breath. Sam frowned and nodded in agreement, targeting a gay man and a pro-choice woman was distasteful. Then, there was a clipping about Wright - the man who handed out flyers about Roy being a fraud. "We gotta find him." Sam said urgently as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Dean and update him.

"If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book." Sam said. Cheryl glanced up at him, her face devoid of emotion - she was good at hiding what she was feeling, which right now was extreme nausea and disgust. "You see if you can try to find it," Dean started, glancing between the two of them. "I'll try to stop Roy from healing anyone. Cheryl, wanna come with me?" He asked hopefully. She pursed her lips together and shook her head, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. "No. I'll go with Sam." She replied.

"Oh, okay."

Sam filed through a row of cars, glancing around for any sign of Wright (or life.) "Help! Help me, please!" A voice cried out. Sam spun around, his eyes immediately landing on Wright who ran past a flurry of cars. He was quick to sprint towards him and Wright smashed into him, desperately clinging to his arms and fear painted across his face. "Help me! Please!" He begged. Sam looked around wildly, he saw no signs of the reaper - "Where is he?!" He asked. Wright's grip on his shoulder tightened for a moment before he pointed behind Sam - of course there was nothing there as Sam wasn't on the reapers agenda - but he believed Wright. "Okay. Come on, let's go."

Cheryl and Sam sprinted through the parking lot, desperately searching for Wright - he never went into the tent during the services, he had to be here. Somewhere. She glanced around, rising onto the tips of her toes as if it would do anything compared to the giant next to her. "I'll take the left, you take the right side." He said. Cheryl nodded and gently grasped his arm, giving his elbow a squeeze before letting go. "You be careful, Sam. Can't have you getting sick like Dean."

He smiled briefly, "I won't."

People started piling out of the tent - yelling various things about a fire. A man bumped into Cheryl, knocking the air out of her lungs and she fell right on her ass. She grunted from the impact and crawled away from the mass of people - she had just about reached a clearing of tall grass when some idiot had stepped on her hand. "Mierda!" She hissed in pain. Cheryl shook her hand as if it would do anything as she rised to her feet. Being 5'2 and in the middle of a mob of panicked people may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to her.

Cheryl searched for any sign of Sam or Dean, Dean clearly succeeded at his job - there was definitely no service happening now. Which means he should be somewhere close. She sighed deeply and walked along the outskirts of the crowd that slowly started to separate as they went to their own cars. Whenever they got separated from one another they'd always meet back at the Impala.

She jogged over to the Impala where Sam and Dean were waiting, and Dean had this sour look on his face. Which wasn't unusual, but lately she found herself being more and more worried for him. It shouldn't be normal to be that upset all the time.

Here they were, back at the motel waiting until they could go back to Roy's to stop Sue Ann from killing another person. It was sort of like their first ever case together, it felt so long ago with all the cases they've had since - two months and nearly ten cases. "So Roy really believes he's healing people?" Sam said as he sat down on the edge of his bed. Dean shrugged and pulled off his boots, biker boots as Cheryl called them, she made fun of him once for wearing them when he doesn't have a motorcycle. "I don't think he knows what Sue Ann is doing." He replied. His eyes never left Cheryl as she bent over to untie her shoes, his eyes widening as her shirt rode up revealing a tattoo. Cheryl had a tramp stamp. Dean tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and grinned, he was about to say something about it to her when Sam practically shoved a book into his hand. "Well, I found this. Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went to the dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper." Sammy informed. Dean scowled at him before skimming through the book, he wrinkled his nose at the drawing of the reaper. Damn, even the art of something could be scary. "Must be a hell of a spell." He commented.

"Hey, sorry. Got caught up in the crowd." She panted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dean's brows raised slightly and he turned to face her, "You okay?" He asked. Cheryl nodded and let out a little breath, her hand hurt like hell - throbbing like crazy and definitely swelling. "Yeah, did you find Wright?" Cheryl's question was directed towards Sam, who thankfully nodded and said that he was alive and good. Dean's eyes dragged down her form, taking note of the redness of her hand and the little specks of gravel on her knees. His lips thinned and he looked at her face again, "Cheryl, you were right." He said.

She blinked in surprise, "What?"

"It's not Roy, it's Sue Ann." Dean answered. Cheryl let out a sigh of relief and her lips quirked up into a slight smile, she was right. Roy - the sweet, nice old guy wasn't doing all of this. "Oh, thank God."

"Yeah. You gotta build a black alter with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher's wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil." Sam glanced over at Cheryl who was popping a couple of painkillers. She swallowed and cleared her throat, "Desperate. Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy." She spoke up. Cheryl wiped the tears that were welling in her eyes and sniffled. Dean's face fell and his heart dropped to his ass it felt like. "Are you okay?" Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern. She chuckled quietly and wiped the tears that fell, "Oh yeah, pills just went down weird is all."

"Why did you take em?" Dean asked.

"Period cramps." Cheryl dead panned. His mouth made a little 'o' and he quickly looked back at the book, embarrassment filling him to his core. He sort of forgot that Cheryl was a woman who got periods. "Uh," Dean cleared his throat. "But, Roy's alive - so why is she still using the spell?"

"To force the reaper to kill people she finds immoral." Sam quickly answered. Cheryl's lips thinned and she sighed deeply, these hard-core religious people pissed her off. Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, "May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." He muttered. Cheryl couldn't help but grin at his comment, sauntering over to them and crossing her arms. "How can we break the binding spell?" She asked.

Dean flipped through some pages, his eyes landing on the same cross that Sam recognized and the cross that Sue Ann had. He pointed to the picture and glanced over at the two of them, "You know Sue Ann had a coptic cross like this. When she dropped it the reaper backed off."

"So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?" Sam confirmed.

Dean nodded and shrugged, "Maybe both. But we gotta do it soon, he's healing Layla tonight."

The Impala rolled up to the house and the tent, the headlights were off as they didn't want to announce their presence and Dean was quick to turn the car off. Sam noticed the second smaller car parked near the tent and frowned. "That's Layla's car. She's already here."

Dean nodded sadly and let out a deep, disappointed sigh, "Yeah." He shouldn't have been healed, it should have been her instead of him - he didn't deserve a second chance. Cheryl's lips curved down into a frown and she rested her chin on the benched seat in front of her. Backseat privileges were awesome. "Dean..." She whispered. He sighed deeply and relaxed back into his seat, he's been trying to ignore how guilty he's been feeling since he got healed. How there were definitely many other people who deserved to be healed rather than him. "You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gunna die in a coupla months." He muttered.

"What's happening to her is horrible. But what are you gunna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God." Sam comforted. He remained silent for a moment, he didn't have anything to reply with. He knew that Sam was right, but it didn't change how he felt.

Dean abruptly climbed out of the car and Cheryl slid over and came out after him. "Hey." She whispered shouted. When he ignored her, she jogged over to him and gently grasped his arm. He turned and she dropped her arm to her side, "If you're going through a hard time over all this, I'm here for you... we can talk or drink away the pain together. Whatever you need. I'm here." She whispered. Dean's eyes softened for a moment, this wasn't the behaviour of a woman who would hate him. His lips thinned and he glanced back at Sam who peeked into the tent. The service had already started, Roy was about to heal Layla and of course, Sue Ann was nowhere to be found. "I'm fine."

"Dean, I know I've never said this before but you're my friend. I care about you and I care about what happens to you, don't suffer alone if you don't have to."

Dean didn't know what to say, so, he just gave her a curt nod before turning and walking away.

All of the lights in the house were off - no sign of life inside. They crept around the wrap around porch, and Cheryl peaked over the railing noticing light poking out the cracks of the outside basement entrance. She tapped Sam's arm and jerked her head towards it, "Here." She whispered.

"Where's Sue Ann?" Dean asked.

"House." Sam replied. He glanced down at Cheryl and they all started to move towards the house until Dean stopped "Go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up." Sam stepped back and was immediately pushed (gently) forward by him. "Dean, what are you..." Two cops descended a set of stairs and Dean backed away from Cheryl and Sam. He grinned, "Hey!" The cops' heads snapped over in his direction but Dean's grin only widened. "You gonna put the fear of God in me?" The pair of cops were quick to drop their coffees - sprinting after Dean and not even noticing Cheryl and Sam who ran up the front steps to Roy and Sue Ann's house. "God, I could kiss him right now." Cheryl joked in a quiet whisper.

"Pretty sure he would like that." Sam snorted.

Sam pried the doors open and ushered Cheryl inside, tucked in the corner of the basement there was an altar. It was littered with blood, animal bones and horns - there was even part of a rabbit's ears. Sam's eyes landed on a photograph of Dean taken from security footage inside the tent. His face was crossed out with what looked like blood and Cheryl felt her stomach churn. Her fingers gently grazed the photo, then realizing (much too late) that Sue Ann was going to take Dean's life for Layla's. "Sam -" A voice from behind them cut her off, "I gave your brother life and I can take it away." They both startled and turned, only to see Sue Ann who was clutching the cross in her hands. Sam and Cheryl side-eyed each other - and it barely took a second for them to act together.

Cheryl flipped over the altar table, scattering all its items across the floor and the glass cups shattered on impact. Sam rushed up the stairs behind Sue Ann - but she was faster than he was, slamming the wooden doors shut and securing it with a wooden beam. He pushed against it with all the strength he had - and nothing. "Sam, can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked. And your brother is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will." Sue Ann soothed. It was pitiful that she believed she was doing any good. Sam grit his teeth and quickly surveyed the room, a window, secret door, anything that may help them get out of here. "What is it with you Winchester's and getting me stuck in creepy basements." Cheryl muttered under her breath.

Cheryl glanced around, noticing a small window that was boarded up with old wood pieces. She pointed, "There!" Sam rushed down the steps and Cheryl climbed on top of a rickety table to tear off the wooden boards. Keeping one of the wooden pieces, she smashed open the window and laid down her jacket so that they could safely climb out.

After managing to get rid of the cops, Dean was making his way back to the tent when some lights behind him had started to flicker. His brows furrowed in confusion and he slowly turned as the lights on the path began to go out one by one with a pop. A muscle in his jaw flexed and when he turned back around, the reaper was stalking towards him.

Sue Ann clutched the cross in her hands - her eyes screwed shut as she recited the spell in Latin right outside the tent where the session was being held. Dean had to die - it was only right.

The reaper placed his hand on the side of Dean's head and he convulsed almost immediately - sinking to his knees like he did when he was healed.

Sam ripped the cross from Sue Ann's hands and threw it to the ground, the glass vial full of blood that was snug inside smashing to tiny pieces. Sue Ann's eyes flew open and a scream tore through her throat, "No!" She cried out. She fell to her knees and desperately clawed up the broken bits, "My God, what have you done!" Cheryl stared down at her, a blank expression on her face. Religion as an excuse to do heinous, terrible things was no way to live. It was the same as saying that the "devil made me do it," it's not true. It's not faith. "He's not your God." Sam said.

Sue Ann exhaled sharply, looking up at them with horror. "You-." Her eyes landed on a figure behind them, something only she could see. She let out a terrified yelp and scampered to her feet - taking off in the opposite direction. The reaper kept pursuing her, however, placing his icy cold hand on the side of her head and smiling menacingly down at her. Tears welled in Sue Ann's eyes and she sank to her knees. Cheryl turned away when she began to convulse and collapse to the ground. "Let's go." She muttered.

"You okay?" Sam called out to Dean once they reached the Impala. He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed deeply. "Hell of a week." He replied. Cheryl's lips thinned and she climbed into the backseat of the Impala without a word.

The ride back to the motel was silent and as soon as Dean parked she got out. "I'm gonna grab my stuff and get my own room." She quickly spat out. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she pushed past Sam. As soon as Cheryl got into the room she went to the bathroom to grab her makeup bag, her clothes would be fine. She always kept them neat in her bag and not all over the place. "Cheryl, you're not serious." Dean scoffed. She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear, all this faith shit has really fucked with her. "I am." She said simply.

Cheryl laid curled up on her side on the bed, all of the blankets were wrapped around her as she flipped through the channels on the television. She didn't have much time to watch TV when the boys were around and they probably wouldn't be able to agree on something to watch. Her eyes widened as she saw that a channel was doing a Friends rerun, "Hell yes." She smiled. American sitcoms were her bread and butter.

There was a knock at the door and Cheryl glanced over, slowly sitting up. It'd been a while since she got her own room, at least an hour or so. There was another knock, louder this time and Cheryl rolled her eyes, tucking her tongue into her cheek as she roused out of bed to answer it. She cracked the door open and peered out, "Si? Hola?" She called out. Her face fell when it was just Dean, "Oh. It's you." She muttered, pulling open the door for him to come in. Dean chuckled quietly and looked around the room, it was a little nicer than theirs but that was to be expected. This was a room for one. "I come bearing gifts." He said, holding up a white paper bag. Cheryl cocked a brow and tried to mask her hunger. She ran her tongue across her front teeth and gestured towards the bag. "What'd you get?"

Dean grinned, "BLTS."

"Okay, sit on the bed."

Dean sat on the edge and kicked off his boots, he unwrapped one of the sandwiches and Cheryl plopped down next to him. When she unwrapped her own sandwich, she realized that there were avocados on it - and Dean had gotten extra fries. Her lips thinned and she inhaled sharply which caught his attention. "What? You don't like it?"

"No, it's good. Thanks." She smiled at him reassuringly. Her eyes settled on the TV in front of them that was still playing Friends. Dean raised his brows, "You like this?" Cheryl hummed out a "yes" and bit into her sandwich, BLTS were hard to screw up - they were good no matter where you went. Dean snorted at a particular scene and shook his head, "Ross sucks."

"Right?! God, he's so annoying." Cheryl groaned. He laughed and pulled a basket of fries out of the bag, which makes sense for America. Portion sizes are massive. "Uh, why'd you get another room?" He asked gently. She sighed and shrugged, she had her own reasons but they were nothing compared to what Dean went through during this hunt. "All this... religion stuffs been hard." She replied quietly. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it. "I dunno, I'm fine. How are you?" She questioned with a raised brow.

"Not good."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He replied shortly. Cheryl nodded in understanding and looked away, when she was upset she liked distractions. And, well, maybe this would work.

Cheryl swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath, "You can ask me a maximum of three questions about me, and then I'll ask you three questions about yourself." She offered. Dean's brows shot up and his eyes widened, the woman who never answered his questions - was letting him ask her questions? "Quick! Before I change my mind." She waved and popped a fry into her mouth.

"Shit, okay, uh... where did you move to when you came to America?" He asked. He was hopeful that she wouldn't refuse to answer this question - friends were supposed to know things about each other. Cheryl squinted and pouted her lips together in thought, "New Orleans, I think." She answered. Dean grinned a bit and set his sandwich down on the bed, turning his full body to face her. "Your turn."

"I know, do you have any allergies?" Cheryl tilted her head to the side and bit her lip. He nodded and rubbed his nose, "Yeah, cats."

"What? Cats are so cute, though."

"It's not like I can control what I'm allergic to, believe me, I'd rather not be allergic to cats." He snorted.

Cheryl smirked and leaned over to playfully punch his arm, "No pussy for you." She teased. Dean's face fell and then he let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed his thighs. He had to think of another question, and it had to be a good one that may lead to a conversation... or more uncounted questions.

"What's your biggest fear?" Dean questioned. This was a harmless question for non-hunters, people who didn't know what really lurked in the dark. For people like them... it could be uncomfortable. "Dying alone," She quickly answered. She gulped and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Probably weird considering our profession but, yeah. Dying alone."

Dean shook his head, "Nah, not weird. I get it." Dying alone was a reasonable fear, but when you're a hunter... it's probable that you will die alone. This job isn't for the faint of heart. Cheryl pointed to the silver ring on his hand, she'd been curious about it ever since they met. Dean wore jewellry, the necklace (Samulet), the bracelets and the watch - he had style. "Are you married?" She asked. Dean let out a bark of laughter and shook his head in amusement. Him? Married? That was comical. "No, no. Shit, no." He laughed. He cracked an eye open to look down at her, "Are you?"

Cheryl grinned, "Are you sure you want that to be your last question?" She asked. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it, he could think of a better question to ask her... but knowing whether or not she was married would be nice too. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, wanna know if I keep hittin' on a married woman or not."

Cheryl laughed and nodded slowly, "Okay, okay. I was. But not anymore. Happy?" Dean's brows shot up in surprise, he half expected the answer to be no with how she was. Such a hard-ass, trust issues, et cetera. Someone got past all of that and managed to marry her?

They spent the rest of the night watching Scooby-Doo together on some kids channel until he went back to his own room to sleep.

"Okay, it's my last question." Cheryl mused. She ran a hand through her hair and fluffed it up. Her eyes softened when she thought of her last question, she didn't expect him to tell her if he wasn't comfortable. She wasn't going to force him. "What was your mom's name?" She asked gently. His jaw flexed and he looked away from her almost immediately. His silence was enough of an answer. "I'm sorry, I'll ask something else..."

"Yeah." He exhaled. She picked at the bread of her BLT and her lips thinned. "Favourite TV show as a kid?"

"Scooby-Doo." He quickly answered.

"Never seen it."

"What?!"

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, seemingly staring at nothing. Sam, who was watching him, frowned "What is it?"

"Nothing." Dean shut down. Sam sighed and his lips thinned into a straight line, he was worried for Dean. And it wasn't exactly easy to get him to talk about his feelings. "What is it?" He repeated, kinder this time. Dean exhaled a breath and rubbed his face, he was silent for a moment before quietly asking: "We did the right thing, right?"

"Of course we did." He comforted. Dean hung his head in shame and screwed his eyes shut. "It doesn't feel like it."

A sharp knock at the door grabbed their attention, "I got it." Sam quickly said as he went to open the door. Dean's eyes widened as it was Layla who was on the other side, her hands neatly clasped in front of her. She smiled a little bit as Sam greeted her and stepped away to let her in. "Hey." She said sweetly. Dean quickly rised, "How did you know that we were here?" He asked.

"Sam called. He said that you wanted to say goodbye...?" Dean shot Sam a look and he was already smiling sheepishly, hand on the door knob. "I'm... gunna grab a soda." He muttered before leaving.

Dean glanced back at Layla who was nibbling on her bottom lip. "So... uh, where are you going?" She asked.

He shrugged, "Don't know yet, our work takes us all over." He replied. She watched him in silence and tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear. "You know, I went back to see Roy."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. He laid his hands on my forehead but nothing happened." She whispered as she sat down on one of the beds. He sat beside her and squeezed his own knees, his hand flexing as he did. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it didn't work." Layla glanced over at him, her eyes soft and kind - there probably wasn't a mean bone in her body. "Sue Ann died, you know, stroke." She whispered. Dean's lips thinned and he nodded slowly, the reaper got his much deserved revenge. "Yeah, I heard. Roy's a good guy, he doesn't deserve what's happened," He looked down at her and his lips parted slightly. "Must be tough. Believing in something so much only to have it disappoint you."

Layla smiled and Dean's brows furrowed in confusion, "You wanna hear something weird?" She asked. He nodded once and her smile widened, "I'm okay. Really. I guess if you're gunna have faith...you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't."

"So what now?"

Layla smiled softly, "God works in mysterious ways." She gently cupped Dean's cheek and rubbed his cheekbone with her thumb. His eyes fluttered shut and he remained still, enjoying her soft touch. "Goodbye, Dean." She said tearfully as she began to walk to the door. He opened his eyes and his lips parted, "Well..." He cleared his throat and Layla turned to face him with an expectant look. He swallowed hard, "I'm not much of the praying type... but... I'm gunna pray for you." He said. Her smile widened and her eyes shone with unshed tears, the gesture meant a lot to her. "There's a miracle." She whispered before leaving, the door quietly clicking shut behind her.

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester #spn #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spnfamily

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prettyflyshyguy · 12 days

Text

Alright Season 3 lets give it up for season 3 everyone.

Cannot believe this show left me on "How do you know what you brought back it 100% pure Sam?" and I just said to myself

GODDAMN

and then just didn't watch S3E1 for three days

Anyway. Liveblogging spn while I work tonight. We're bringing back the old days where I did this with x files if any of you remember that LMAO

Kicking things off with a bang (and me trying to not post too many rambles about a stupid tv show, so I'm conglomerating my thoughts into big posts instead)

we have S3E1 - The Magnificent Seven

Love this show's deep appreciation for full black contact lenses MWAH

cheffs kiss

Sorry I know I should be focusing on the evil demon smoke going to infect whatever city this is but like. Do you guys actually genuinely have flags out the front of your houses like this for real

Like really. Do your houses really have flags like that.

OH YEAH BABEY SEASON 3 GOT AN INTRO STING GRAPHICAL UPDATE!!!!!!!!!! NICE

He is SO concerned

No one is giving me practical effects like this show is and I'm living for this

I WISH there was more of a scene in australia cause god I'd work as a prop maker for a living if it was a viable career to do more horror aligned stuff here.

They've spiced up the camera work this season and it is FUN!!!!

These two are great I hope they're gonna be regular supporting characters PLEASE

Highly entertaining seeing Dean's superpower of "Flirt with woman successfully" actually used as a utility (bonus points because it's making him uncomfortable)

RARE HAT-LESS BOBBY SPOTTED

Oh.

Absolutely visceral death, but a real damn shame because these two were cool :(

This show has no right just putting jokes like this right after a scene like THAT.

These dickheads are far too fun to be a one off PLEASE

Australian chanting

FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT!!!!!!!!

Alright that was a fun way to start a season. Nice recap. I get it. It'dved been a while since it last aired. I like shitty pissed off Sam a LOT.

Are you tired of being nice Sam? Don't you just want to go apeshit?

Round 2 Electric Boogaloo with S3E2 - The Kids are Alright

Starting strong once again with a callback to Victorian worksafe ads!!

(Victorians know.)

Love that Sam inherited NONE of the lying genes in the family

I'm sorry you cant make the comment "as many as I can squeeze out" (EUPHAMISM) and then immediately smack me in the face with a fucking GUMBY REFERENCE?????!!!!!!!!!

Fuck off I hate this show. Fuck you dean you stupid piece of shit

A FUCKING

GUMBY REFERENCE (how many of you know what that is LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

Look I get it, I do, but c'mon he looks so fucking awkward getting cake while these two women are talking about the explicit details of his prior intimate experience with Lisa from 8 years ago

Like what the fuck did they DO to illicit a reaction as intense as these two women are giving

No I will not suspend my disbelief for the running gag No I'm not taking this too literally NO i don't have a problem with interpreting jokes

The closeup of Dean's face as his brain was doing the dialup tone killed me, then immediately PANIC but don't drop the cake (SAME)

Anyway. Lisa I love you. You're amazing. Please be done justice by this show. Please.

Need you all to know I go through hell (HAR HAR) to watch this show

And I thought my conversations in cafes sounded unhinged to bystanders (LITERALLY had some old dude tell me and a friend we were weirdos as we minded our own business drawing horror art in a cafe hgakjrhgkagh)

HATE that my brain just went "NOT THE SARAN WRAP SKIN" (we don't call it that. Next I'll start pronouncing things more wrong than I already do)

Not the white DS Lite!!!!!!!!

Remember this kid you bullied in highschool? This is them now

Oh this show doesn't pull punches and it has some NICE shots

Anyway bye Lisa I love you I hope you come back soon :(

the running gag of bizarre interior décor hotel room never ceases to entertain me, I'm like a small child

Anyway

ran out of room for more images on this post so. Who knows maybe I'll fuck off or I'll do a part 2 tonight we'll see

#shy talks #not art #shy liveblogs spn

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

Text

Laughter Like Music Pt. 1

Summary: Y/N wants someone to believe her, and is very grateful when she meets a green-eyed hunter who does.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Sex in semi-public place, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, dirty-talking!dean, slight Dom!dean, slight Sir kink.

Word Count: 3,346

A/N: So, earlier today I asked for some prompts or bingos or something that could kickstart my lazy muse. And I got some great help from @fandomohana and @peyton-warren, which I so appreciate. I have every intention of using those prompts to make some fun, smutty fluffy fics!

But as I was perusing those amazing prompts I remembered that quite a while ago, the lovely @eevvvaa sent me an ask with some fantastic prompts that I loved and had big plans for, but then never followed through with! 😩

So, I figured I would work on those prompts first. She sent me three batches of three prompts each (each batch has one fluffy, one angsty, and one smutty prompt) which were meant to be used together. So, I'm going to work all nine of the prompts (3 prompts for each part) into a little three part mini-series. This is part one, and it's ended up much smuttier than I'd originally planned. 😄 The next two installments should be a slightly better balance between the smut, fluff and angst. Lol!

The 3 prompts from her ask will be highlighted.

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

“Jesus Christ!” Y/N angrily gesticulated at the cop across the counter from her. “Can’t you listen for one second? I am telling you that a man was ripped apart right in front of me, and you just refuse to listen.”

The gray-haired cop held on to the same unimpressed expression he’d worn from the moment she’d walked up to the counter and interrupted him on his computer.

“Ma’am, I have listened, and I understand what you think you saw, but I’ll tell you again that no missing persons report has been filed, and -”

Y/N cut him off. “He was a homeless man, it’s highly unlikely anyone is going to report him missing!”

“And,” the cop continued, talking over the end of her sentence, “and, what you’re describing is impossible. Now, you said you saw him very early this morning, is it possible you were just distracted, or overly tired?”

Y/N gritted her teeth and tried one more time to be heard. “It was almost seven o’clock in the morning, so no it wasn’t that early, and I was not over-tired. I’m not a fucking toddler. I saw what I saw. The man was sitting in the alley as I was passing by, and in a blink, there was someone ON him, ripping him apart with their bare hands. The man started screaming and by the time I pulled my phone out to call 911, they were both gone. I did not imagine it, I did not dream it. It happened in the alleyway between Walbash and St. Mary St. Can’t you at least send some cops down that way to look?”

The cop, Jenkins, his name tag said, finally let go of his uncaring expression and smiled placatingly at her, which was a thousand times worse, and made her want to punch him in the face. “Okay, ma’am. I’ll put in a request for a black and white to go past and take a look when they have a minute, alright?”

She just angrily shook her head and threw her hands up, frustrated beyond belief. She turned to walk out of the station, and ended up walking into a wall of male.

She let out a little cry of surprise and alarm, and would have fallen flat on her ass if two strong hands hadn’t reached out to grab her arms and keep her upright. She straightened up as he let go and tilted her head far back to properly see the two towering guys in front of her. They were both very tall and broad, and Y/N took a step back from them so she could stop breaking her neck to see them.

They were both in cheap blue suits, and the short haired guy flashed a badge at her quickly that said FBI.

“Ma’am, can I ask you to come with us, we’ve got a few questions for you.” His voice was deep and commanding and she couldn’t help noticing that he was also drop dead gorgeous. They both looked more like they belonged on a movie screen somewhere than in this dingy, police station in the middle of Nebraska.

But the one who’d flashed his badge had sucked her breath away immediately in a way that made her desperate to yank on his navy blue tie and pull him down to her level so she could taste those full, succulent lips. She was in the process of imagining his mouth moving over hers, and feeling the hands that had grabbed hold of her so tightly, pressed into her skin, or holding her in place while he -

“Ma’am.” The other agent was trying to get her attention and she finally broke away from that intoxicating green gaze to look at his partner.

“Huh?” She said stupidly.

The long-haired agent smiled. “We’d like to talk with you about the statement you just made to this officer.”

The frustration of the situation seeped back into her mind and she frowned deeply. “Aw, come on, look, I’m not crazy okay. I know what I saw, so if you’re just going to tell me again that I was imagining things, then…” She waved her hands to show that she was through with this crap, and moved to walk around them.

But as she tried to pass by the FBI Adonis, he reached out and once again grabbed hold of her. She looked up at him angrily, about to protest this civil rights violation of holding her against her will, when he spoke.

“I believe you.”

His voice was much softer now, as though he only wanted her to hear him. She scoffed slightly, not sure she believed HIM.

“How could you?” She asked, her voice equally soft. “It’s a ridiculous story, how could you believe me?”

He turned to face her completely and his unblinking stare made her heart start pumping double time. “Because,” he answered simply, “there have been two other homeless people attacked and killed, and because we’re pretty sure we know what’s doing it. Til now though, we haven’t had a witness. So,” he let go of her arm, “we have just a few questions for you.”

***

Twelve hours later, Y/N’s whole world had been turned upside down, and yet, she was grateful. From the moment she’d seen that creature, a werewolf apparently, rip apart a grown man like tissue paper, everything had been spinning. Ironically, it was the Winchesters' explanation that monsters were real that made her feel better. She wasn’t insane, she wasn’t delusional, they listened to her, they believed her and they got rid of the monster.

Now they were all sitting at a booth at the local dive bar called, “Suds”, and sharing a couple pitchers of beer and laughter. It was strange how quickly she’d felt safe with them, as though she’d known them for years, as though they’d always been friends.

Sam was intelligent, sweet, and entirely charming, with a smile that would light up a room - though it didn’t pop out as often as she would have liked. Dean was brash and sarcastic, a bit rough around the edges, but the absolute man of her dreams.

She couldn’t look at him without nearly panting. Everything he did seemed calculated to turn her on, from the way he gulped down his beer to the flirty smiles he was throwing her as she sat beside him in the booth, trying not to inhale too deeply and get completely taken out by his intoxicating scent. He smelled like warmth and sunshine, even in this grubby bar, and it was something she desperately wanted to get closer to.

He was also very funny. He had a sharp, sarcastic, slightly morbid sense of humor that made her laugh even when they’d been in a very dangerous situation earlier in the day. That was some kind of gift.

He was keeping her laughing and giggling now, as Sam left to get another round, by making up scenarios for different couples around the bar. He was hilariously spot on as he predicted their next moves.

Y/N put her hand on his arm. “Stop, you’re too good at this, just how much time do you spend in bars? You’ve got all their moves down pat!”

Dean grinned at her. “More time than is good for me, I can promise you that.”

She laughed again and Dean leaned an inch closer to her. “Man, you have the most gorgeous smile and laugh. Sounds like music.”

His voice was rough and warm and Y/N shivered slightly. “Cold sweetheart?” He asked. “I could warm you up.”

As Y/N felt her core muscles clench at the invitation, a pitcher landed on the table in front of them, and she looked up to see Sam smiling a little sheepishly.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” He said with a slight eye roll.

Y/N felt bad and said that he should stay, but Dean just smiled at his brother and slapped him on the back, tossing him the keys to his car. “Thanks, Sammy. Drive safe, I’ll take a cab home.”

Sam reached his towering body over the table and gave Y/N a hug where she was still sitting. “Take care, Y/N, it was really great to meet you.”

She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek. “You too, Sam, and thank you so much.”

He nodded, and pointed a finger at his brother. “Be good.” He said simply before turning and leaving. Dean slid back into the booth beside her despite the fact that the other side was now available.

Y/N wasn’t about to complain, as he crowded closer to her. He leaned in to whisper in her ear causing more shivers.

“Sam says to be good. But you sure make me wanna do bad things with you.” He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin just under the hem of her t-shirt and doodling patterns there. “What do you think, Y/N? Wanna do bad things with me?”

All Y/N could manage was a quick nod and a kind of affirmative humming sound. Words were beyond her as Dean nuzzled his nose behind her ear.

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about all day, you know that?” He asked, as he moved his other hand under the table and over her stocking-covered thighs. “Do you?”

Y/N shook her head and then turned her face into his shoulder to stifle a moan as his long fingers swept up under her skirt to pass fleetingly over her drenched panties.

“Were you thinking about me, sweetheart? Hm?” He ran his middle finger along her seam, pressing against her clit and making her yelp with pleasure. His mouth was back at her ear and his delicious voice just kept pouring electrifyingly filthy words into her head as he touched her under the table.

“Were you hoping I’d get my hands on you like this? Anxious to feel my mouth against your skin? I was; I’ve been desperate to taste you, touch you, to make you feel so good.”

He ripped a small hole in her sheer stockings and pushed her panties aside to sweep two thick fingers through her slick. With a quiet growl that drowned out her gasp, he dipped his tongue into her ear before putting his lips to it. “Fuck, baby, this is all for me? I wanna taste you so bad. Do you want to feel me inside you? Say yes, baby, cause all I can think of is sinking into that slick, hot cunt and fucking you hard enough to leave you feeling me for days.”

As he twirled his forefinger around her clit, Y/N let out a deep moan that was mercifully drowned out by the guitars and drums of the rock song playing over the soundsystem.

“What do you say, Y/N? Wanna be really bad and meet me in the bathroom in a minute?”

Y/N was a shaking mess, but she nodded and then whimpered as he took away his fingers. As he started to leave, she pulled him back by his shirt lapels, and kissed him, sucking on his plump bottom lip as she’d been fantasizing about for the last twelve hours.

Dean quickly took over the kiss though, and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting all of her and leaving her thoroughly ravaged as he stood to go. He pointed a finger at her. “One minute, no more.” He ordered.

Y/N smiled, and though she’d barely had two full glasses of beer, she felt drunk as she bit into her bottom lip. “Hell yeah. I mean,” she purred up at him, “Yes, sir.”

She felt an electric buzz across her skin as his eyes got darker, pupils blown with lust. He turned on his heel quickly and made a beeline for the bathroom.

After he’d gone, Y/N tried to count Mississippi's to measure out a minute, but she lost track as her skin burned for Dean’s touch and her pussy dripped. Finally, somewhere around forty seconds, she gave up and rushed towards the bathrooms.

She looked around the deserted back area where the bathrooms were located before she pushed gently on the swinging door that led into the men’s room. When the door was barely open a foot, Dean’s hand shot out from behind the door and yanked her forward. He pinned her quickly against the wall, pushing his knee between her legs.

She gasped and panted slightly as she shook her head. “How did you even know it was me? I could have turned out to be a big guy named Bubba!”

Dean smiled and licked his lips as he rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “Well, if you were Bubba, then Bubba has some pretty small, delicate hands.” He said, grabbing up both of hers in his and raising them above her head, pressing them against the cold, ugly tile that adorned the whole bathroom from floor to ceiling.

Y/N laughed at that and reached forward to get to Dean’s mouth, but he pulled back slightly and with her hands pinned the way they were, she couldn’t reach him. She pouted, but he smiled, slow and sexy.

“Call me that again.”

Y/N knew exactly what he was asking for, but decided if he was going to hold his kisses ransom, then she would just play dumb and tease him back.

She blinked up at him innocently. “Call you what?’

Dean’s eyes flared with so much heat she felt scorched by it, but she was enjoying the anticipation and the game too much to give in too quickly.

Obviously deciding that two could play at this game, Dean manhandled her into one of the wider stalls and locked the door before pushing her against it, crowding her back tightly with his bulk, and pinning her hands at her side.

“Say it.”

Y/N grinned and bit at her bottom lip, her blood throbbing through her veins at the demanding look in Dean’s eyes. “Say what?”

Dean let go of one wrist so he could push up under her skirt and shred her pantyhose completely. The sound of the ripping fabric was like an aphrodisiac and Y/N was soon shaking with need as he pushed her panties aside and began circling his thumb on her clit. She pushed down against his hand and he pulled it away from her.

He answered her cry of frustration with a dirty chuckle. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you want?”

“Dean!” Y/N cried, reaching for him with her free hand, trying to unbuckle his belt, but he quickly slammed her wrist back against the door and held her there with an unyielding grip.

“Tell me what you want. Beg for it, beautiful. You’re so gorgeous like this, all hot and needy. So, tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Giving up the game completely, Y/N strained her neck forward again, reaching for his mouth. “I need you to fuck me.” She cried out hoarsely. “Fuck me, Sir, please.”

Dean immediately spun her around, slamming her against the door while he lifted her skirt and then pulled her hips out towards him. She heard his belt buckle jingling and his zipper open just before he rammed into her, making her scratch at the metal door, desperate to grab on to something. But all she could do was flatten her hands there and press her burning cheek against the cool surface.

Dean pulled out and slammed into her again, pressing so deep and hard that Y/N had to shove her fist into her mouth to stop from screaming. Over and over, he crashed the head of his cock against her cervix, before pulling out, and running it gently over her sweet spot with every pass, tightening the coil in her belly until she finally came apart, her muscles squeezing around his thick shaft as it continued to ram into her clenching pussy.

Dean pulled out and she felt her slick dribbling down her thighs as he turned her gently to face him and then lifted her like she weighed nothing. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and guided her back onto his rock hard, velvety smooth length. She dropped her head back as she wrapped her legs around his waist and both arms around his neck.

He used his free hand to push up her t-shirt and bra, grasping and squeezing her breast with his thick and powerful fingers, before lowering his head to nip and lick at her nipple.

The pressure in her abdomen began again as he raised and lowered her slowly on his cock. It had been rough and hard, but now it was silky and slow, and Y/N wanted to cry with how perfect he was. He was sucking bruises into the skin on her neck when his thrusts began to falter slightly, telling her he was close.

She pulled his head up to hers and kissed him deeply, then panted lightly into his mouth as he reached his hand down to rub her clit, pressing perfectly on the hard little button and making her thump her head back against the door.

Dean wrapped his hand easily around the back of her neck and pulled her head forward again, pulling her gaze to his. “Look at me, Y/N. I wanna see the look in your eyes when you fall apart this time, wanna watch the pleasure explode across your beautiful face as you come.”

With two more twirls of his finger against her, he got his wish and Y/N couldn’t stop the loud cry of pleasure that erupted from her as she climaxed. She closed her eyes briefly when she came, but opened them again quickly, however, as Dean’s thrusts became sloppy and frantic.

She clung to his shoulders and did her best to slide up and down on him, watching his face as the muscles stuttered there and he moved his hand from between their bodies to smash against the door and brace himself, as he slammed into her tight, slick body. With a guttural yell that she was sure had to echo out over even the loudest music and into the bar, she felt him pulse deep inside her, coating her walls with his thick warmth.

He stood still for a moment, both of them panting out their exertion. Suddenly the door flew open and Y/N yelped as a voice called into the bathroom from just outside the swinging door.

“Look if you guys are done, you gotta pull your pants up and get on your way!” The gruff, annoyed voice yelled to them. “People gotta get in here to use the bathroom, and they don’t need a peep show.”

They heard the swinging door close behind him and were silent for a minute more before they both burst into laughter. In the midst of their chuckling and humor, Dean pulled out of Y/N’s body, and helped her set her clothing right before putting his spent cock back into his pants and zipping up.

As he tried to buckle his belt, Y/N pushed his hands aside to take over the task. She smiled up at him coyly, slightly shy to ask what she wanted to.

“So, I know you and Sam have to take off tomorrow, but do you have plans for the rest of the night? Maybe we could swing by my place, and try this again, minus the bar patrons and on a really nice king sized bed?”

As she slid the leather end of his belt into the loop, he leaned down to kiss her softly, all his brute strength and raw passion seemingly tamped down for the moment as he slid his long fingers into her hair and kissed the tip of her nose before sipping at her lips once more.

“Hell yeah.” He said, echoing her earlier agreement. “I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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@tristanrosspada-ackles

@djs8891

@muhahaha303

@kayyay1219

@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

@mimaria420

@sacriceria

@envyaurora95

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

@alexxavicry

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

@twirpbunwarrior

@mysweetlittledesire

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

@courtn92

@avanatural

@ellie-andthemachine

@this-is-me19

@roseblue373

@katbratsupernaturalwhore

@fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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