#Jensen Ackles characters

[zepskies]

One Exception

Pairing: CJ Braxton x F. Reader

Summary: Joey has invited you to a party at Pacey’s apartment, and CJ has agreed to go, despite the contentious history between him and your new friends. He doesn’t want to be the reason you miss out on a good thing, but it also means he’ll have to hide his apprehension (and his alcoholism).  

AN: Here’s the sequel to Good Morning! This story takes place in 6.14 of the show, with a little twist.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mature themes, but it doesn’t really warrant an 18+ rating. Angst, alcoholism, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, tinge of spice, and implied smut.

“Nice television,” CJ remarked, noting the giant monstrosity in the middle of this very loud apartment.

“See? Told you it’d be low-key,” you said.

More like high and off-key, CJ thought wryly.

Nickleback’s “How You Remind Me” was blaring. People you and CJ recognized from school were crowded in the living room around the TV, as well as milling around the kitchen with beers and solo cups, and it was pretty much a wall of sound that already grated on CJ’s ears. Pacey had to be in here somewhere too.

You squeezed CJ’s hand and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” you asked.

He gave you a smile to hide his nerves. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He was no stranger to parties. He just didn’t often find himself going to parties where the host had once introduced his face to a brick wall.

Before he truly got to know you, CJ had a one-time unintentional fling with your (former) dorm roommate, Audrey. She’d been spiraling out of control in an alcohol-fueled depression. He’d seen a kindred spirit in her and tried to help her. He just hadn’t known that she was still sort of in a relationship with Pacey, who had a mean right hook when he wanted to.

And then there was Jen, Audrey and Joey’s best friend. CJ felt the worst for hurting her along the way, unable to reciprocate her feelings…

And, oh yeah, you still didn’t know about that last part. 

CJ silently stewed in all of this when you led him by the hand to find your friend and current dormmate, Joey.

“Hey! Glad you could make it,” she said with her wide, doe brown eyes and a too-bright smile.

You gave her a quirking look when you hugged her in greeting. She smelled like vodka and orange juice, but you’d never known Joey to go too hard in the paint with her liquor.

She gave your companion a little wave. “Hey, CJ!”

“Hey,” he nodded with a smile.

“You guys want something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the row of liquor bottles and various chasers behind her on the kitchen counter. You internally paused for a moment, glancing at your boyfriend, but you turned back to Joey with a smile.

“Yeah, Diet Coke would be great,” you said.

CJ gave you a curious look, but he asked for the same. Joey bobbed her head before she went to pour the drinks into some plastic cups.

CJ leaned in near your ear. “Sweetheart, you’re allowed to drink. You know I’ve been to parties before.”

In fact, you and CJ had met at a club party. One where Audrey had been led up to some guy’s room while she was drunk, and CJ had all but broken down the door to get her out for you and Jen.

“I know, I just don’t feel like doing alcohol tonight,” you told him.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You just didn’t want to risk making CJ even more uncomfortable than he likely already was, being near Pacey. You’d asked Joey to talk to him for you—a plea for him to not try and kill your boyfriend.

And there your esteemed host was, coming over now.

“Heyyyy, good thinking,” said Pacey. He went over to Joey’s side when she turned to hand you and CJ your drinks. He grabbed another cup to pour one for himself. 

“Hey, man,” CJ greeted politely. His hands were in his pockets, trying to mask his stiffness.

Pacey hesitated, taking note of CJ, but the beat of tension broke between the two men when Pacey graciously stuck out a hand.

“Hey. Good to see ya…not with my girlfriend,” he quipped with a smile.

CJ’s was a bit more strained, but he gave a wry chuckle along with his handshake. Joey elbowed Pacey in the ribs.

“Ah, what?” he protested. She gave him a firm look, pursing her lips. Then she turned to you and CJ with a smile.

“Hey, you guys have any whiskey?” Jen cut in, as she sidled up to Joey. “I’m not so much in a beer mood, but whiskey I could do. Maybe it’s the burn I’m craving—”

She stopped short when she saw you and CJ. Her smile thinned.

“Oh! Hey, there,” she said.

CJ offered her nod, but his insides tightened. He watched you brighten and give Jen a hug that the other woman couldn’t easily reciprocate. Jen’s eyes were on him, even while she hugged you.

You and Joey then broke off to catch up for a bit (CJ encouraged you to it), while Pacey went back to watching a football game on the mega-sized TV with Jack. CJ was about to join them when Jen’s voice stopped him.

“You guys look good together,” she said. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand and a small smile on her face. Her blonde hair was shorter now, cut just below her ears. Her black halter-style dress suited her.

But she wasn’t you.

CJ smiled more genuinely. “Thanks.”

Jen was a good person. He was still sorry that he hurt her, but he wasn’t sorry for choosing you.

You were happy to see CJ hanging out with his friend David, along with Jack and Pacey and some other guys from school. Meanwhile, you had the chance to catch up with Joey and Jen.

Maybe it would give you a chance to mend this weird rift of distance that had seemed to come between you and Jen in recent weeks.

You didn’t know where it came from, but you genuinely admired Jen as a person. She was smart, and she always spoke her mind and stuck to her principles. That was something you wish you had more of in yourself.

Now, she was a bit quiet while sipping her whiskey. Joey made up for it, with a kind of giggle-snort you'd never heard come out of her mouth before. You raised a brow, despite your smile.

"Yes, Josephine?" you teased.

"Sorry," she waved a dismissive hand. "Just remembered something. Like the fact that I really like vodka. I mean, it's clear, almost tasteless, so it's almost like drinking water, you know?"

You and Jen shared an amused look.

"Sure, that's what it's like," you said.

Joey's eyes went wide then. She leaned in close to you, leaning on your shoulder.

"Oh. Don't drink champagne though," she said, while eyeing Jen. She "whispered" loud enough to be heard over the music, and also hurt your left ear. "She once killed a girl with champagne."

Jen's mouth fell open incredulously. Your eyes went as wide as Joey's. This was some serious “girl time.”

"Wait, what?" you said.

Jen looked at her empty glass. "Well, would you look at that? Right on time."

She escaped to the kitchen to refill her tumbler, but you and Joey followed her; you out of morbid curiosity, and Joey because she too wanted more vodka than orange juice in her plastic cup.

Jen gave you a smirk as she filled up her glass.

"Don't worry, you're all safe. This is Jameson," she said.

You emitted some nervous laughter and leaned on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out where the joke was here. How the hell do you kill a girl with champagne?

“So are you sure you don’t want an actual drink?” Jen asked, gesturing at your soda.

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” you held up a dismissive hand.

“You sure?” Pacey said, coming up from behind your little group to find a beer. “I got your boyfriend a vodka soda. I can get you one too.”

Your eyes widened, though you tried to hide your alarm, smoothing your hands down your jeans.

“What?” you asked.

Pacey paused. He’d caught the surprise flitting across your face. “What?”

“Um…” Your hesitation came from trying to process information in record time. You looked over and saw CJ with David. Your boyfriend was indeed holding a different cup.

You returned your attention to Pacey. His brows were raised. Joey looked confused as well, while Jen was sipping at her own drink, in a way that hinted that she already knew what you were about to say.

“CJ doesn’t drink,” you explained.

Pacey brows popped higher. “Ah. He’s 21 though, right?”

“Yes, but he’s a recovering alcoholic,” you said with a sigh. You didn’t want to have to say that, telling CJ's business, but you didn’t know how else to explain why you were slightly freaking out.

“Oh…uh, sorry about that,” Pacey said.

“No, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Pacey gave a wan smile and returned to the group around the TV, CJ included. You sighed and turned back to Jen and Joey.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know either,” Joey said.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you said, shaking your said. “I’ll just check on him, if you guys don’t mind—”

Jen’s glass hit the counter, and she poured herself another whiskey on the rocks.

“By all means, check away,” she said.

“Hey, sorry man. I didn’t know,” Pacey had said to him, with a look on his face that also said:

Sorry you’re a leper. That’s rough buddy.

CJ found himself withdrawing from the rest of the guys, even as the smell of vodka wafted from the solo cup in his hand. He glanced down at it with a short sigh, but he didn’t drink it, even though his hand itched to raise the cup to his lips.

You startled him a little when your hand curled around his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted in a whisper.

“Hey,” he smiled back at you. But the worried look on your face made his smile fall.

“Wanna hang out for a bit?” you asked, nodding at a quieter looking corner of the living room.

CJ waved at David with the hand that held his cup, and he followed you over to the far side of the couch. You sat on its edge, arms crossed, while he found a seat on the sill of a large window.

You pointedly glanced at his cup. “Have you been drinking?”

CJ’s lips pursed. He took in your stance: arms crossed, shoulders tense, lips pursed, eyes deeply concerned and wary.

Are we having fun yet? he thought dryly.

“See, I’d be more inclined to answer that question if you hadn’t lured me over here under false pretenses,” he remarked. Though he did set the cup down beside him on the windowsill.

“What false pretenses?” you asked, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to be with me. You want to check up on me,” he pointed out. “You’re looking at me like an inmate who got loose in the psych ward.”

You frowned then. “That’s not true. I’m just wondering why you would take an alcoholic beverage from Pacey.”

“Your friend offered me a drink. It seemed rude to say no, so…” CJ glanced down at his hands in his lap. Your head tilted in concern.

“CJ…” you sighed. “Why the hell would you ruin your sobriety over something like that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he replied flatly.

“Oh really?” you said. Your lips pursed in irritation.

“I just didn’t want to get into it with a stranger,” CJ said, throwing up a hand. “But thanks for telling him that I don’t drink. Now he’s apologizing to me like I’m dying or something.”

A sharper sigh fell from your lips. “I told you we didn’t have to come here. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to—”

“Again, you know this isn’t my first house party,” he said.

“Yeah, I know it’s not. So why? Why did this happen tonight?” you asked. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so disciplined with yourself. You have a set of rules, and you follow them.”

“Yeah, well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I realized that I was too strict on myself?” he said. “That maybe we wouldn’t even be together if I didn’t bend those rules?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously, a bit of anger sparking your blood. He knew he shouldn't have said that. It just kind of flew out of his mouth, immediately sparking his guilt.

“Okay,” you snipped. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be bending those rules at all if this is where it leads.”

CJ's lips pursed. “What, because I’ve been sitting here, spending the last hour debating whether or not to take a drink?”

He gestured at the cup beside him. 

Your eyes blinked wider, with even more surprise, and a heavy dose of confusion.

“Wait, what? Are you telling me that you haven’t been drinking tonight?” you asked.

“Is that going to magically change all the conclusions you just jumped to?” CJ retorted.

You closed your eyes with a sharp, exasperated sigh. When you opened them again, you frowned at him.

“Uh, yeah!” you exclaimed. "Of course it does, CJ!"

“Well, it doesn’t work that way,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine. Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

He was getting wildly defensive right now. You sort of saw where he was coming from, but it was still frustrating. You held a hand to your chest as your heart raced with the force of your relief.

“Look, I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just…I was worried about you,” you said honestly. “I knew coming here might be stressful for you—”

“I can handle stress,” CJ said. “What I can’t handle is you looking at me like I’m a powder keg waiting to explode.”

You raised up placating hands as you glared at him.

“Fine,” you said. “Sorry for being concerned about my boyfriend. I’ll try to curb that behavior in the future.”

At that, CJ’s frustration and anger simmered down, swiftly followed by more guilt.

You got up and blinked quickly, like you were fighting tears as you shook your head. You aimed to get by him, but he got off the windowsill and went for your hand. There was no drunk excuse for his behavior now.

No, this one was all him.

“Hey,” he said, in a softer voice. He looked down at you with softer eyes too. He could see now that you didn’t mean to make him feel less than, like you had to watch him so he wouldn’t mess up in front of your friends. No, you were just genuinely worried about his wellbeing. 

You looked up at him warily. He held your hand more securely in his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I am,” he said, when he noted your raised brow. “I’m really grateful that you care about me. That you’re concerned about me. But I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself either, even when we’re out here in the wild.”

A small smile twitched at your lips. You held his hand back.

“Out in the wild, huh?” you quirked a brow. CJ smiled back and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“I just need you to trust me a little more,” he said.

You nodded, smiling when his forehead gently rested against yours. The ends of his hair tickled between your brows.

“Okay, I’m sorry too,” you said. “Next time I won’t be so quick on the draw.”

You leaned up for a kiss. CJ met you there, sweetly at first. Then he tilted his head and deepened the angle of his lips moving against yours.

“Ooh save that for later,” Joey said, loudly from behind you.

It made you jolt in CJ’s arms. You turned your head and met your friend with a wide-eyed look of confusion. She held an empty wine bottle in her hand and waggled mischievous brows.

“Come on, let’s play.”

You really couldn’t believe that Joey was making you all play Spin the Bottle. For you, it was the stuff of awkward middle school horror stories of the highest form. She’d roped in you and CJ, Jen, Jack, Pacey and their roommate Emma, and Gus, a gross looking guy who was apparently her "fiancé" of some sort. 

Gus took the first turn, and got creative with it—giving Joey a nice lick on the cheek.

That’s what you get for making us play this dumbass game, you thought as you laughed.

Joey ended up giving Jack a sweet kiss, followed by him and Emma sharing a little lip-lock, and even Emma and Jen giggling as they came together for a peck.

But when it was Jen’s turn, the wine bottle spun, and spun…and landed on CJ. A chorus of “ooohs” came from the others.

You felt yourself bristle internally. It’s just a game, you reminded yourself. Just a stupid, stupid game.

You patted CJ’s knee and tried to school your face into amusement.

“You’re up, babe,” you said.

He looked a bit uncomfortable when he met your eyes, and then Jen’s. She wore a smile, though she was a little absent in the eyes. She’d been pounding hard liquor pretty much all night.

“All right, CJ. Let’s get this over with,” she teased.

He let out a subtle breath through his nose, but he uncurled his arm from around you so that he could lean over to meet Jen across the circle. Instead of the light peck that he was aiming for, she surprised him by taking his face in her hands and giving him a kiss deep enough to make him taste the burn of whiskey.

He parted from her with a flinch. His eyes blinked wide. A quick glance around the circle told him he wasn’t the only one who was surprised, but you were the only one he cared about. He settled back next to you and felt guilty for your muted disbelief, even though he wasn’t the real perpetrator here.

CJ frowned hard at Jen. She just smiled and crossed her arms around her legs, head bobbing to the tune of the alt rock music playing.

“Damn, Jen,” Pacey said, laughing uncomfortably. “That’s some dedication to the game.”

You were still shocked into stillness. You knew Jen was a bit deep into the bottle, but was she really drunk enough to try and make out with your boyfriend in front of you?

Joey finally dropped her hands from her face (she’d been watching the scene through the cracks in her fingers). She gave you an apologetic look. She was very effing drunk as well, you knew, but not make out with your boyfriend in front of you—drunk.

You finally looked over at CJ, not knowing who you should be more irritated with: Jen for sticking her tongue down his throat, or CJ for letting her.

“It’s your turn, bro,” Gus said. Not that he cared about whoever CJ landed on. He just wanted the chance to kiss another one of the girls. Preferably Emma.

CJ shook his head. “I don’t think I—”

“Go ahead,” you said. Your tone was a challenge, as were your crossed arms, and the tight expression on your face. “It’s just a game, right?”

That last part, you aimed at Jen. She finally had enough self-awareness to avert her drunken gaze. Your teeth were grinding.

Though you had to pause when you realized where CJ’s spun bottle had landed: right on you.

“Aw, well that’s good,” Joey said, with a nervous laugh that broke some of the tension in this little circle.

CJ let out a subtle breath of relief himself. But this was a whole new challenge as he met your steely gaze. He tried to give you a smile.

Your eyes fell. So with a small sigh, he gently took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to him, just before he leaned in to kiss you.

He plied you softly at first. His lips dragged against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. Then he angled his head away from the circle, away from prying eyes as he brushed his tongue across your lower lip, seeking entrance. You inhaled deeply, and you couldn’t help but let him in.

You uncrossed your arms and found his cheek with your hand. Your fingers soon delved into his hair, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck. He barely restrained a shudder.

“Ah, okay then,” Pacey muttered.

When you parted from CJ, your heart was racing, and there was a fire in your belly that you could see reflected in his eyes.

“I’m a little thirsty, you wanna…” he trailed. You nodded and let him help you off the ground where you all had been sitting.

CJ’s arm once again wrapped around your waist, and he led you into the first bedroom he could find. The door shut against the blaring music, the sounds of laughter and stories and dumb middle school games.

Until all that was left was you and CJ, and the sounds of quick breaths, clothes hitting the floor, and skin against skin.

“I’m sorry about earlier. With the game,” CJ later said. “Jen took me by surprise.”

Much later, where you were tangled up in his arms and the sheets, both of you mostly naked and tucked under the covers. You felt bad that you didn’t even know whose bedroom this was.

Jack’s maybe? You could only hope so. That would probably be the least awkward situation if you two were caught in here.

But at CJ’s question, your blissful mood of moments before was wiped away. Your face dropped into a frown. You turned in his arms so that you could see his face, resting your head on his arm.

“Yeah, what the hell was that with Jen?” you asked.

CJ soothed a hand up and down your arm. He knew it was time for him to come clean with you, even though he knew it might make you look at him differently. He could only hope that it wouldn’t.

“Before you and I started talking, dating—well, you know what happened with me and Audrey,” he said, expelling a breath of regret. “Before then, Jen had feelings for me.”

Your eyes widened. By now you could’ve guessed that Jen wanted your boyfriend, but you had no idea it had started way back then. CJ looked you in the eyes.

“I just didn’t feel the same way,” he said. “Then Audrey and I happened, just the one night. But Jen…I know I hurt her, and I felt terrible. I still feel bad about that, because I never meant to hurt her. I just thought Audrey and I had a connection.”

“And then Pacey,” you supplied, realizing where this story was headed. A fight between Pacey and CJ. Audrey left for rehab in California. And Jen was left to nurse her wounded pride and hurt feelings…especially when you and CJ began for real.

You closed your eyes on a sigh. This explained why she’d been so frigid to you lately.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” CJ said. “I didn’t want to come between you guys, or hurt her more by pursuing another one of her friends…I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

At that admission, you softened. You caressed CJ’s cheek, and you brought him down to you for a kiss. Again, it was slow and unhurried, yet no less passionate.

Your lips parted from his first, so you could meet his eyes.

“I’ll talk to Jen,” you said. “But…I’m glad I fell for you too.”

You and CJ shared a quiet moment then, each of you processing, hands intertwined. It had you thinking about everything he said tonight, even before the game. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine,” he’d said. “Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

You sighed and squeezed his hand. It was comfortably trapped between his bare chest and yours.

“Just for the record, you don’t have to be ‘normal’ for me, or be what you think I want around my friends. Just be you,” you said, meeting his green-eyed gaze. “I do trust you, CJ. I trust that you want to be with me, and that you have a handle on yourself.”

CJ smiled ruefully. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“You were right though. The truth is I did get a little nervous tonight,” he said. “Being here, seeing Pacey…it brought up all that drama again. I took that vodka soda from him, and I was thinking about drinking it.”

“But you didn’t,” you said firmly. “Because you’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know.”

CJ looked down at your hand joined with his, at your face, set with honesty and vehemence. You seemed to believe every word of what you were saying. That alone made him feel strong.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

It hadn’t been all that long, but he knew this felt right. It always felt right with you.

You smiled back at him and leaned up for a sweeter kiss.  

“Thank you for bending your own rules for me,” you teased.

CJ chuckled. He stroked your cheek and pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my one exception,” he said.   

AN: As frustrated as CJ made me at times, somehow he weasels his way back into my heart. 😂💗 If you enjoyed this, let me know!

Ko-Fi Me ☕

CJ Braxton Masterlist

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@waynes-multiverse @lovelyunjinn @twinkleinadiamondsky

#One Exception #Good Morning Sequel #dawsons creek #CJ Braxton #CJ Braxton x reader #CJ Braxton x female reader #CJ Braxton x you #CJ Braxton fics #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #CJ x reader #CJ x you #jen lindley #pacey witter #joey potter #dawsons creek fanfiction #CJ Braxton fanfiction #dawson's creek #zepskies writes

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over – May 4

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #director!dean winchester #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles characters #dean winchester au #supernatural au #glow au #dean winchester reader insert

[julesthequirky]

The Choice

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Reader x Dean, Reader x Beau Arlen, Reader x Soldier Boy, OC mother, antique salesman

Warnings: (Warnings will be updated when chapters are released) Language, typical SB behaviour, smut, asshole mom.

W/C: 19,348 (so far)

A/N: All spicy chapters will be symbolised with a chilli pepper.

The Choice now has a Spotify playlist, which will be linked here.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven 🌶

Chapter Twelve

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #reader insert #beau arlen #big sky #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #beau arlen smut #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #multiple fandoms #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles characters

[syrma-sensei]

→ Different World, Different Words.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: soldier boy pov, ben's being a fluffy yet dirty bastard, ben's being smitten with you, domestic fluff, dirty talk, fingering, size kink if you squint, swearing a lot of swearing, doesn't necessarily follow the canon plotline.

word count: 866.

summary: ben's trying to fit in this fucked-up, new world.

→ masterlist | ao3

“So it means a pussy.”

“For the millionth time, Ben, No!”

He shakes his head, unconvinced, “A man who does the most motherfucking cringey stuff to impress a chick. In my times we were used to call him a pussy.”

Ben puts the dish he just rinsed in the drying rack then takes the plate full of soap she just washed. The topic of modern slang was brought up at the dinner table a few minutes ago, when Ben was trying to literally impress her how adaptive and quick he is.

This time she's the one to shake her head, biting adorably on her lower lip, “Well, yeah but—” She snaps her head to the side to look at him. He's huge compared to her, almost covering the entire sink with his figure. A wide smile on her face, “Wait a minute, did you just say cringey.”

“Yeah, so?” He glances at her from the corner of his green eyes. He could've sworn he saw pride in her eyes. His heart skips.

“Where did you learn that from?” She asks teasingly, proceeding with doing the rest of the dishes.

“Urban dictionary.” She makes a snoring sound, and his eyebrows knit in confusion, “What? That whining cum-guzzler told me about it.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, lips puckering up amusedly, and he feels wildly tempted to crash them with his lips.

“Oh, poor Hughie, must've been fed up with your pussy this and pussy that.” She lets out a giggle, “Can't blame him tho. The things come out of that tongue of yours can be so gross sometimes.”

“Diffrent times, different words.” He says, “Still don't make sense to me.”

Ben then raises an eyebrow, watching her drying her hands with a towel when she's done, he follows her when he is too. He hums playfully, lips curling up into a mischievous grin. “Hmh, last time I checked, you liked the things I do with this tongue of mine.”

A deep crimson colour smudges her cheeks, she looks at him with adorable, upset face. “Well, yeah, it has some perks.”

“Oh, yeah?” With his strong arms, he lifts her effortlessly up to the countertop. Her face meets his, her cheeks are still red despite everything. “How about going to bed...” He pecks her lips, once, twice. “and let me fuck this pretty pussy nice and slow,” In a matter of seconds she's chasing his lips for more, “and show you the wonders my tongue is capable of.” He caves in to her want and gives her a kiss. Long and devouring, his tongue is already in her mouth, exploring and tasting, and swallowing her moans.

“Oh, God.” She breathes against his lips, “Ben I can barely walk thanks to last night's fucking. I don't have your fucking supe stamina.” She keeps on kissing him, nevertheless. Nibbling and sucking on his lower lip in such a teasing way, while her small hands cup his bearded cheeks.

Ben groans deeply, burying his face in her neck. “You don't have to do anything, just take what I give you.” His hand slides in between their frames to find her clothed clit. He smirks, filthy little slut; the thin layer of her panties is practically drenched. “Oh, baby, sure you don't wanna let me fuck you dumb tonight too?”

She lets out a pathetic moan when his fingertip presses to her erected clit. She holds onto his strong biceps for support as he proceeds taunting her, “Hmh, bet you can't wait to squeeze my cock empty in your fucking slutty pussy.”

“Ah, Ben, p-please...!” She whimpers, hips rolling against his fingers for more fraction.

“Shhh, I got you.” With one firm move, Ben rips her panties away.

“Ben!” She chides, “Quit doing that to my clothes!”

He fakes a sympathized hum before he buries two fingers in her cunt. “I'll buy you new ones.” A devious grin adorns his mouth, “Though you don't need any around me.”

With half-lidded eyes, she glares at him. And his heart swoons at the cute, angry face she's giving him. “God, you're the worst.” She huffs and kisses him furiously. A deep chuckle rumbles within his chest, his fingers curl and twist inside of her drawers, her arousal glistening wet on his knuckles.

“Ben, fuck!” Her thighs squeeze shut on his fingers when shivers her orgasm out. “Fuck, Ben, st-stop it's too much!” She begs him as he fucks her through her high.

She rests her forehead on his chest when he pulls out. “You're a dick.” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

He laughs amusedly, “Though you like it.”

“I like your dick, not you being one.” She gazes up at him, giggling. “You just enjoy fucking me up.”

“Yes, I do.” He says, a brutal grin on his lips, “I love ruining you.”

She roughly pushes him away with her foot on his chest, he raises an eyebrow at her as she jumps onto the floor, still quivering from her orgasm.

She glances at his bewildered face over her shoulder, giving him a wink, “Then stick to your words and ruin me in bed, tiger.”

Ben follows her with a wolfish grin on his face.

#soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy smut #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys x you

[devilmademewriteit]

Gods & Monsters

pairing: Soldier Boy/afab!fem!reader

summary: delivering coffees to Vought’s crisis management team brings you face to face with Soldier Boy—who has a different job in mind for you.

warnings: pure, filthy smut (blowjob, fem penetration, slight predator/prey; slight orgasm denial) so 18+ only content; Soldier Boy b/c tbh he’s his own warning; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long hair (hair pulling); drug mention (coke in detail); title kink (sir); pet names (doll-face, sweetheart, doll); dubcon (coercion, imbalance of power); use of slut degradingly; choking; (light) slapping; spitting.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka bestie

word count: 3.3k

this is my first time writing for The Boys!! would love to hear feedback & requests are always allowed :)

—

Even before finding yourself at the mercy of a power-drunk supe, you’d had yourself a pretty fucked up day.

After spending your morning hunched over your desk at Vought trying, in vain, to piece together a script for the new upcoming Crimson Countess film (with a team of useless douchebags hooked on uppers) you had all but quit your job.

Then, of course, the afternoon came with its own set of troubles. Your supervisor had hurried over, wild-eyed and raving, to break the news of a PR scandal—you guessed one of the twins, it was always one of the twins—which called for all hands on deck; including yours, which were delegated to the indispensable task of retrieving coffees for the crisis management team upstairs. If you weren’t flat broke and more of a risk-taker, you’d never engage with anything supe-related ever again—but you were, and you weren’t, so you find yourself in the later hours of the evening delivering lattes to your higher ups on floors of the tower you’d never heard of before.

The elevator doors open and you come face to face with the poster-boy of the company. Your heart leaps as you recognize his face; it settles when you realize he’d never recognize yours. After all, you’d only met briefly once before: just last week, you’d finally spent time on set for one of Payback’s shoots. Assistant duties only, of course, but it had been thrilling to watch the supe and his team, nonetheless.

Needless to say, seeing him up close, now, is a completely different experience. No mask, no makeup—just his chiseled, gorgeous face and entitlement simmering in his green eyes.

“Good, you’re here. I was gonna go looking for you,” Soldier Boy says, unfazed by your paralyzing shock. Amused, he adds, “And you brought the coffee, too.”

You stand in the elevator, unmoving. Then, ever so slowly, you hand him the tray of full, steaming cups.

He laughs, wrinkles next to his eyes forming as he takes the tray. Your mistake seems obvious once the image of the company’s most expensive asset holding a tray of five cent coffees is on display before you.

He calls someone over from down the hall, and a wiry young man comes scampering over. “Take these to the assholes down the hall,” Soldier Boy orders. “And tell them not to fuckin bother me tonight.”

The young man nods fervently and speed-walks, tray in hand, back in the direction he’d rushed over from.

The elevator dings and the metal doors begin to close, but a large palm slaps them back in place. You watch as Soldier Boy peels his hand back, leaving indents in the steel.

“Where have they been hiding you?” He asks, leaning against the metal frame. His eyes flash with amusement as he scans your body up and down, making you wish that you’d worn a nicer skirt or ironed your shirt just a bit more carefully this morning.

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “I work in the creative department. Writing,” you say, determined to regain some composure.

“You the one that writes those fuckin’ anti-drug ads?” He asks, ever-so-nonchalantly.

“No,” you answer, trying not to meet his imposing stare head-on. ”I write the movies, the television scripts, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, you don’t look like a complete prude,” he jokes. ”Though I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” the supe adds with a wink.

He looks at you expectantly, something unidentifiable in the way he takes you in.

You don’t respond.

“Really? Nothing? Thought you worked in the creative department,” he taunts.

You clear your throat. “I do, sir,” you respond, your voice faltering with fake confidence. “And I really should be getting back,” you quickly add, reaching for the button that would take you back down to your floor.

A massive hand blocks your own, and you look up at the supe, frustrated.

He whistles softly. “Whoo, ‘sir…’ I sure like hearing you say that.”

Adrenaline courses through your entire body as he takes a small, controlled step towards you. Your mind races, trying to come up with some sort of escape plan, but it goes blank the moment you glance at that pouty bottom lip or notice the rugged curve of his jaw.

“Well, today’s your lucky day, doll,” the stranger says, his voice suddenly low and quiet, “‘cause we need you up here.”

“For what?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Something about the glint in his eye makes you want to run down the hall as fast as possible—to get away from this madman. He reminds you of a wild animal; you sense something ferocious and tense coiled up inside, begging to come loose.

And yet, something about the grit in his voice and the shape of his shoulders makes you want to play his game, to close the distance between the two of you.

See where it takes you.

He smiles and steps into the elevator, easing his way behind you and placing his palm against the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he grumbles into your ear. “You’ll love it.”

You look up at him, unsure of what to do and intimidated by his overwhelming presence, his demanding words. Like prey caught in a trap, every instinct screams at you to get away.

You don’t move.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, twisting a strand of your hair. There’s an edge to his voice you’d only ever heard between cuts, when the cameras weren’t rolling. “Wouldn’t want to upset an American hero, would you?”

You give in, allowing yourself to be guided out of the elevator and down the hall by his palm’s weight against your spine. He doesn’t even look at you; he only steers you forward into an enormous suite, lavishly decorated with all sorts of expensive fabrics, paintings, and furniture. It’s nicer than anything you’ve ever seen, yet Soldier Boy saunters in like it’s no more impressive than a dingy motel room.

The first thing you notice is a heap of white powder out in the open on a massive wooden table. The supe walks over to it and does a line through a rolled up twenty, jerking his head back and shaking his head.

“Want any?” He asks, turning his gaze back to you.

“No, thanks,” you respond, wary. “I like to be sober on the job,” you add, not wanting to sound judgemental.

He shrugs.

“What, exactly, did you want from me?” You ask, cringing at the naivety of the question. What he wants hangs thick in the room, it was heavy in his eyes from the moment you’d first met them.

He closes the distance between you and flashes a taunting smile.

“You don’t like coke? I got benzos, oxy, weed… really anything a girl could want.” He plays absentmindedly with the fabric of your skirt, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“All I want is for you to tell me what you want.”

“You sure have a way with words, doll-face,” his right hand finds its way to the front of your throat, stroking the skin there, gently. Every part of your body responds to the touch and unwelcome arousal clouds your thoughts as you try to keep yourself together.

He ducks down, his lips lightly brushing skin of your ear.

“I want to watch you take my cock in every way you can, sweetheart.”

Your body responds before your mind can process his words; suddenly, you’re having trouble standing upright as heat spreads across your core.

“I know you’ll be so good for me,” he adds, fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“Can I say no?” You ask, cursing how small your voice sounds. Despite your efforts, you’re sure he can hear your reluctant desire dripping off your every word.

He looses a low chuckle. “‘Course you can,” a pause as he places his palm against your cheek, “but you shouldn’t,” he finishes, flatly. “Besides,” Soldier Boy continues, his voice husky and deep, “all I’m asking is for you to get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use.”

You don’t know what makes you do it. Perhaps it feels inevitable; after all, you happen to be alone, cornered by the most powerful man in the world. Or maybe, just maybe, some twisted part of you wants to be at the mercy of this man.

Almost as if in automatic response, you feel yourself sinking to the ground, holding his stare like a tether to reality—a lifeline. He smirks with satisfaction, and, celebrating his win, unhooks his buckle for you to pull the length of him out. Your eyes widen, astonished by the sheer size and girth of him. He notices, of course, and gives you a lazy grin.

Asshole.

Begrudgingly, you accept that you want him. Still, you struggle to admit to yourself that this desire is quickly becoming much more than that.

Some starved part of you is desperate to satisfy this stranger in any way you can.

“Take all of it,” he orders, nodding down towards you. You obey, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and feeling him push down to the back of your throat.

“That’s fucking right, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy groans as you slide down the length of his cock, over and over. “That’s what this mouth was made for.”

He tugs at your hair, taking a fistful of it and forcing your eyes up to meet his. He thrusts forwards, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper—you give him everything you have. His intensity only builds and you find yourself choking, spit gathering in the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth.

“Fuck yeah, doll,” he groans. “You fuckin’ love that.”

You melt into his encouraging gaze, your eyelids heavy, your panties soaked completely through.

You nod in agreement and he loosens his hold on your hair. You pull off of him, gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting the two of you in pure need.

“Don’t you stop,” the supe warns, using one hand to guide his cock back into your mouth, the other pushing at the back of your head.

You go slow, now, blinking the well-earned tears from your eyes, savouring the feel of him against your lips, your tongue, the roof of your mouth. You put both hands to work and watch him remove the top of his suit, near swooning at the sight of his bare torso.

“You want me to fuck that pussy of yours?” He asks, making your clit throb in response.

Breathless, you utter a quick “yes,” before taking him back between your lips.

“Fuckin’ course you do,” he responds lazily, placing a hand on your cheek, running his thumb down your face, tracing the bone as he smiles.

“Then tell me you’re a slut who loves sucking cock,” he says gently, his torturous hand behind your head always guiding you to take more and more of him, keeping you desperate for air. “Isn’t that true?” He continues, arrogance soaking each and every syllable. “Don’t you fucking love having my dick in your mouth?”

You nod, dazed with lust, his low and gravelly voice undoing you in every way.

“Say it,” he commands, his voice severe—degrading.

You slide off of his length, continuing to please him with the use of your hands.

It comes out as a plea. “I’m a slut who loves sucking cock,” you tell him, earnestly, meeting the challenge in his eyes head-on.

His length twitches in your hand and you know you’ve done a good job.

Soldier Boy laughs. “Get up, sweetheart,” he orders, “bedroom’s on the left.”

You obey, lifting yourself onto shaking legs. Your kneecaps burn from the friction.

You round into a room with a huge bed, unmade silver silk sheets and a thin duvet cast upon it like something out of a movie. The moon’s glow shines through a massive window, illuminating the surrounding luxury. You hear a loud sniff followed by a sigh, then footsteps approaching your direction.

It’s impossible to take it all in. Barely five seconds pass before Soldier Boy is behind you, unbuttoning your blouse.

“You got a favourite way to take it?” He asks, ridding you of your shirt. “With tits like this,” he groans into your neck, roughly squeezing your breasts and running a calloused finger over each nipple, “I could watch you bounce.”

You shiver at his touch, aching for more. The feel of the supe behind your back is nothing short of maddening; his hardness pressing against you fills your head with thoughts so sinful they’d make the devil blush.

“I want to watch,” you decide, surprised at the strength of your own volition. “I want to see you fucking me.”

You wind up on your back at the edge of the mattress with Soldier Boy between your legs. Desire simmers into your very bones, threatening to undo you before even being touched.

He bunches up your skirt and slides a thumb down the middle of your panties. “Fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers to himself with a smile, shaking his head. He pulls them off roughly and sets himself up at your entrance, running his tip along your swollen clit one, two, three times.

“Stay up on your elbows and don’t look away—got it, sweetheart?” The stranger orders. You respond with a fervent nod. As he slides himself between your folds, you let out a soft gasp, watching his cock disappear inside you. He groans, then flashes you an arrogant smirk.

“Fucking desperate for it,” he says. “Look how good your pussy takes it.”

Placing his hands on your upper thighs, he sets a rhythm, slow and hard; all you can do is stare, open-mouthed, at the sight of his cock slamming in and out of you. You meet his eyes for a moment—his full of mockery and satisfaction, yours likely full of wild abandon.

“You like seeing me ruin you?”

Struggling to form words, you merely gasp out a desperate “yeah” and it sounds more like a question. You try to stay propped up on your elbows as the brutality of his thrusts intensifies—he fucks you harder and faster with every movement.

“Ohhh, fuck, yeah you do,” he answers, throwing his head back, a winner’s smile spreading across his face.

It feels so good you can hardly string together a cohesive thought. You reach out for something to grab onto and your fingers find his forearm, the indestructible muscles underneath tensing as you struggle to stay up. Soldier boy smiles down at your dazed expression, placing his hands on either side of your head as he leans forward.

“Open that mouth just a little wider for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, contrasting the roughness of his thrusts.

You obey, and placing his thumb on your chin, he spits in your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue.

“Swallow, baby,” he says, and so you do, moaning as his spit slides down your throat.

He ducks his head down. “Fuck that’s so hot,” he groans, finding your clit and drawing lazy circles on your pulsing, swollen bud.

“You’re a fuckin’ superstar, sweetheart, the way this pussy takes cock.”

The stimulation overwhelms you entirely. “I-I can’t hold on,” you gasp out, feeling a familiar warmth spreading from where his thumb plays with your pulsing bud.

He wraps a hand around your throat, forcing you to look deep inside his heavy-lidded eyes, his dilated pupils.

“Tell me how much of a slut you are for this cock and I’ll let you come,” he orders with a mocking smile.

You can feel yourself going, seeing stars from the feel of his thighs slamming into your ass, his length reaching deep inside you, and the hand wrapped around your throat.

The man certainly loved making you talk in moments where words were impossible to form.

Soldier Boy laughs. “What, fuckin’ cock-drunk already?” His hand momentarily leaves your throat to collide with your cheek, waking you out of your stupor, before wrapping around your jaw. His grip is controlled—it inflicts no pain but allows for no negotiation, either.

“Tell me you love it.”

“I love it,” you moan, barely above a whisper. All you can focus on is holding back your climax as his fingers continue to work at the apex between your thighs.

“Scream it,” he orders, slamming himself inside you. The violent sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, fills your ears.

“Please-“ you beg, the word coated in desperation.

“Fuckin’ scream it,” he demands, unbending.

He leans in deep, his cock grazing the sweet spot at your core.

Warmth and lust erupt from inside you.

Words become easy, now. “I love it, I love it, oh my god I love your cock,” you half-gasp, half-cry as your orgasm blossoms through your body. You tremble underneath him and he laughs, continuing to fuck you through the waves of bliss.

“Just a desperate fuckin’ whore,” he taunts, running his hands along your sides, your breasts, before reaching your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He pulls out quickly, leaving you panting, shaking, dazed, empty.

“On your knees one more time for me, doll,” he says with surprising gentleness, pulling you by the arm off the edge of the bed. “I wanna see you taste my fuckin’ load,” the supe says with a smile, again using a large hand to guide his length into your open mouth.

You take him in slowly, registering your own acidic taste on his cock. There’s a low groan from him, and then he’s holding both sides of your head steady and thrusting into the back of your throat.

“Fuck. Yeah.” He says, throwing his head back. You keep your eyes up, locked on him. When he meets your gaze, he groans, “god, you look a fucking mess.” He grins down at you, “I almost feel bad for getting you up here.”

You freeze and look up at him, his length still halfway down your throat.

He scoffs and smiles. “You really think they’d get someone from your floor to bring fucking coffees up here?” He palms your cheek, shaking his head. “I knew from the moment I saw you at the shoot last week—your little fucking clipboard and that short ass skirt…” he trails off, stroking your cheek as you stare up into his daring eyes.

“I knew I had to see you like this.”

His words send shivers down your spine. You know you should feel used, tricked, or stupid, but all you feel is grateful, special, at his having noticed you. That desperate desire to please him simmers fiercely in your blood.

Slowly, you begin moving again, running your tongue down the length of his cock before circling the tip, tauntingly, slowly, adoringly. He shakes his head and grins: a god between your lips.

“Good girl.”

You grab his hips to steady yourself, trying your best to stay still and take his whole length without choking, lightheaded from the lack of air.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You feel his cock twitch as a stream of warmth slips down your throat, salty and thick. He relaxes his grip and slowly pulls his length out from your mouth. “Look at me and swallow, baby,” Soldier boy whispers firmly, holding your cheek in his hand.

You close your mouth and swallow, trying to steady your breath as the taste of him lingers in your mouth. He smiles and wipes a thick finger along your lips.

“‘Could keep you here, you know,” he says softly, holding your face up to meet his drunken look. “Tie you up, fuck you till you forget who you are… you’d like that, wouldn’t you, doll?” He asks, his voice low, dark, and gentle—you ignore how sinister it sounds, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, turning into his palm and smiling.

Soldier Boy’s soft chuckle fills the room, and he leans down to take your face in both his calloused, firm hands.

“You’re a fucking star, sweetheart,” he says. “You’re my fucking star, right?”

You gaze into his darkened eyes, wondering how in the world you came to be in this position.

It didn’t matter.

You were here now, and you wanted more. Needed more.

“Right.”

Your answer is met by a look of utter male satisfaction, Soldier Boy’s eyes filling again with animalistic hunger.

You’d be his for as long as he’d have you.

#soldier boy #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys s3 #jensen ackles smut #the boys x you

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Lonely Dancers

main masterlist | misc. jackles characters masterlist

SPOILERS! this story is set after the events of the movie and it (vaguely) spoils the ending

summary: when your boyfriend cheats on you, it leads you to tom hanniger

pairing: tom hanniger x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.7k

warnings: language, cheating, mentions of death/murder, hearing voices (briefly, very end of the fic)

author’s note: happy valentine’s day! i wrote (and barely edited) this very quickly because i wanted to publish it while it was still valentine’s day in my timezone! enjoy!

music: lonely dancers by conan gray — incredible song by an incredible artist! go pre-save the upcoming album!

Tears were still clouding your eyes as you sat at the bar. You’d driven here after walking in on your boyfriend with another woman—your two best friends had both betrayed you in the most gutwrenching way.

“Crappy Valentines?” the man a few seats down from you asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you scoffed.

“Well–”

“Look no offense, but I’m really not in the mood to be hit on, okay? So kindly fuck off and let me drink in peace.”

He nodded curtly; “Ten-four.”

You finished the glass in front of you and gestured to the bartender for another. You downed that one quickly and again asked for another immediately after.

“Cheated on, huh?” the man from before asked and you finally turned to look at him. He had a small, sad smile on his plush, pink lips and his green eyes seemed to look at you with sympathy. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I, uh, I know the look,” he replied. “How about the next rounds are on me?” he offered, you smiled a little in thanks. “I’m Tom, by the way.” You told him your name, figuring it was the least you could do.

“So, Tom, I’m guessing your Valentine’s Day hasn’t been much better than mine?” you asked.

“What makes you say that?” he quoted you with a bit of a smirk.

“You’re drinking alone in a bar attached to a cheap-ass motel,” you retorted. 

“Touché,” he laughed. “So maybe my day’s been shitty too… or maybe I just came here to hit on the lonely hot chicks.”

You narrowed your gaze at him, stifling a laugh; “Maybe. But something tells me you came here for the booze and not the chicks.” His smile faded a little at that but he was quick to plaster it back onto his face. “So how about we drink together for a bit and when I’m buzzed enough we head over to the dance floor and act like our day hasn’t been hell?” you suggested. 

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You both got to talking and eventually, you told him the whole story. He held back most of the comments he wanted to make; hope he drops fuckin’ dead, for example, or who in their right mind would do that to such a gorgeous fuckin’ woman!?

“Well, he sounds like a major dick,” he commented. 

You listened to his story too, though he clearly wasn’t being as open with you as you were with him. But, you couldn’t blame him. His issue seemed to be about trauma linked to the actual day and less about something that happened recently.

After nearly half an hour of talking, he took your hand and led you to the beat-down jukebox in the corner.

“Does this shitty thing even work?” you scoffed. 

“Let’s hope it does or this dancing thing is gonna be pretty awkward,” he joked. He managed to get a song playing. “May I have this dance?” He turned from the jukebox and looked at you, but quickly noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Shit, you okay?”

You sighed with a nod; “This was kind of… our song,” you admitted.

“Of all the songs for me to pick,” he scoffed quietly, mentally kicking himself. “I… don’t know how to switch it.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly, a sad smile gracing your lips though the tears stayed in your eyes.

“How about we dance to it anyway?” he offered. “That way it’ll become our song and the next time you hear it you won’t think of that cheating bastard, you’ll think of the somewhat good-looking guy you met while drinking yourself half to death?” He smirked and wiggled his brows a bit, making you let out a laugh. 

“Somewhat good-looking, huh? Have you looked in any kinda mirror recently?”

He shrugged, still smirking; “Didn’t wanna seem too cocky; had to downplay my looks a little, gauge your reaction.” You let him put his hands on your hips as you both started swaying to the music.

“That so?” You put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them to the back of his neck. “And what’d my reaction tell you, handsome?”

“That this song is now officially ours,” he replied. “And every time you hear it you’re gonna remember my handsome face instead of that ugly asshole’s.”

“Thanks for that, Tom.” You smiled up at him, continuing to let him guide your movements. “I’d much rather think of you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and his grip on your waist changed to wrap around your torso. The song was slow so he didn’t feel the need to change anything about the way you two were dancing—he just held you and gently swayed back and forth with the rhythm.

When the song ended the next one that played was more up-beat and “danceable” so you pulled away a little.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaimed, beginning to dance a more energetically while you still kept your hands on him.

He chuckled at your reaction and began dancing more too. His hands went back to your waist and he twirled you around. With your back pressed against his chest he turned up the heat a little; trailing his hands forward and up your body slowly. You smiled widely, enjoying the feeling of his touch over the thin fabric of your long-sleeved crop top. He twirled you back around, your hands catching your weight on his chest.

He looked down into your eyes; “Just thought I should gauge your reaction again.”

“And what’s it saying this time?” You smiled up at him, keeping your hands on his chest.

“That it might be okay if I kiss you right now?” 

You nodded before he leaned down to place a kiss on your eager lips. Before he could, however, your phone rang and you pulled back to check it.

“Damn it,” you mumbled, seeing the name.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Tom asked and you nodded. You were about to answer but he whipped the phone from your hands and hit decline. “Stop,” he said when you reached for the phone, “forget that guy! He clearly doesn’t know how to love a woman like you—someone so gorgeous, funny… talented dancer.” The last one made you laugh through the sting of fresh tears. “And I hope he drops fuckin’ dead! How about we just keep dancing so I don’t have to see those tears slip down your pretty face, huh?”

“Guess I’m all yours tonight,” you replied.

“That’s more like it!” He took you back into his arms before he kissed you. 

**

You woke up the next morning to the sound of someone knocking on your apartment door. You sighed and grabbed your pepper spray before going to answer it. When you looked through the peephole, however, you smiled and placed the weapon down on the table by your front entrance.

“Hey Tom, what’re you doing here?” You smiled after you opened the door. He held out the bouquet of roses he had been hiding behind his back.

“Happy belated Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I hope I made it a little less shitty for you and that you won’t hate this holiday the way I do.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you took them from him. You stepped aside so he could walk in. “I’m gonna find a vase for these, why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

He nodded and made his way to your couch. He knew the layout of your home and where you lived because he had driven you home last night (well, earlier that day, technically) and made sure you got inside safely. You had offered to let him spend the night but he had declined politely, saying that as much as he enjoyed your company he didn’t want the two of you to become a one-night-stand. “Besides,” he had said, “I’ve got something important I’ve gotta do.”

The idea that Tom’s ‘important thing’ may have been just getting you flowers made your heart swoon in a way that you’d never felt before.  

You hurried and put the flowers in a vase before you went over and sat next to Tom on the couch. He smiled at you before you turned on the TV.

“Wanna watch something?” you asked but your eyes widened when you looked at the screen; “Oh my god.”

“Two individuals brutally murdered last night…” the news reporter went on to say the names of your ex and his new girlfriend (your former best friend). “Officials say it was a robbery gone wrong, due to a missing engagement ring presumably still in the romantic, heart-shaped box it was purchased in barely two weeks ago from a local jeweler. No suspects are in custody—” 

Tom shut the TV off as tears began rolling down your cheeks.

“Th-They’re both dead…” you barely whispered. The thought of the two people you cared most about being killed for no fucking reason made a scream erupt from your throat. Tom pulled you into his chest and you sobbed, gripping his shirt with all your might.

“I-I’m so fucking sorry,” Tom whispered. 

**

After a (very long) session of tears and Tom’s gentle shushing, Tom was making breakfast in your kitchen as you sat at the table. 

“It could’ve been me,” you said. “I-If he hadn’t cheated on me, if we hadn’t broken up, I would’ve been in her shoes. I’d be dead.”

“Thank god you aren’t,” Tom said. 

“Maybe if I had answered his call–”

“Don’t think like that,” he interrupted. “Just be grateful that you weren’t there and that you’re okay. This isn’t your fault at all in any fucking way, you understand me? It was just a robbery gone wrong and as tragic as that is, that isn’t on you.”

You smiled a little, though tears were still slipping down your cheeks. He had a point and even if he was technically still a stranger, he seemed to care about you. 

“We’ve got her now, Tom. She’s all ours.”

“What’d you say?” Tom looked at you over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” You smiled sadly at him. “Just…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

#tom hanniger x reader #my bloody valentine 2009 #my bloody valentine #jackles character #tom hanniger #jensen ackles characters #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

[thebiggerbear]

Jensen Ackles Characters Masterlist

Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Soldier Boy from The Boys

Beau Arlen from Big Sky

Alec McDowell from Dark Angel 2000

Jason Teague from Smallville

CJ Braxton from Dawson's Creek

Tom Hanniger from My Bloody Valentine 2009

Jake Gray from Devour 2005

Boaz Priestly from Ten Inch Hero

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles characters masterlist #dean winchester #soldier boy #beau arlen #alec mcdowell #tom hanniger #jake gray #boaz priestly #jason teague #fanfiction #thebiggerbear #jensen ackles #actor: jensen ackles

[misguidedasgardian]

What I was promised (part III)

MASTERLIST

Summary: Ben and you try to pick your baby’s name 

Warnings: Childbirth, implies forced marriage and kidnapping, hinted forced breeding, cursing, mentions of sexual workers (use of the word hooker), breastfeeding, might miss some warnings

Notes: I love these little snippets of their life together, even if Ben is an asshole, he truly loves the reader and their little family. This one is short and sweet

“That’s a hooker’s name” he said to you, with his big hand covering your baby girl’s ear. She was cuddled against his father’s chest while he walked around the room to make her stop crying. It had worked since she was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the conversation her parents were having about finally naming her

“You had said that about the last 20 names I’ve proposed, how many sexual workers have you been with, uh Ben?” you asked teasingly, provoking him

“Hey, we are getting out of track here” he said hastlity, bouncing your daughter in his arms slowly, you just giggled, continuing to put her little clothes inside her bag, you were getting released today, to finally take your daughter home to meet her brother 

“She needs a good, proud name” he continued, looking down at her, “a name for a superhero” 

“Xena, the warrior princess” you teased

“Yes, sure, very funny” his flustered cheeks told you he also had less than honorable memories with the characters 

“Elizabeth, like the queen” you continued 

“She is from Britain” he said like you were betraying your country

“Daenerys Targaryen” you kept teasing. You had been at this for hours, throwing names left and right to see which one you both liked. Before the birth you had barely discussed it, he was so sure it was going to be a boy that you didn’t even talk about girl names, so here you were, 24 hours after the birth and still no clue. 

“The hot chick with the dragons? I’m in” 

“I was kidding” you muttered, looking at him raising one of your eyebrows, “What about… Diana? like wonder woman” you tried 

“It reminds me of Princess Diana and I don’t like that,” he continued. “I still shed a few tears every time I listen to Candle in the wind”

“Ok, ok I got it” you snapped. He probably saw Princess Diana on the flesh, “Our poor girl is going to be nameless” you muttered after a long sigh

“No she is not,” said Ben, caressing her little head. You stole a glance at him, looking at his daughter with such adoration you already forgave him for his reaction the moment she was born, he was totally, completely and irrevocably in love with his child. “we’ll find her a beautiful name, uh?” she was awake now, and looked up at his father, “Yes we will” he cooed childishly, “we’ll find you a beautiful and powerful name”

He moved around with her and she seemed to like it, since she cooed and didn’t cry, just enjoying his father’s embrace. You smiled warmly, when you woke up this morning Ben was sleeping right next to you, with your daughter in his arms, and today, he had barely let you hold her to feed her. 

You had thrown around your mother’s name, family names too, and nothing, nothing sounded right for her, and now you were trying names of famous persons, and still nothing sounded right. 

“I need to feed her Ben” you said gently, reaching with your arms as a sign for him to give you your daughter back, but he turned his back to you, ignoring you and shaking his head

“Let me hold my daughter woman, she is not crying” he said defensively

“You’ve had her all morning” you giggled, seating on the hospital bed

“She is a daddy’s girl, right sweety?” he cooed, “Yes you are, you are daddy’s little girl” he kept bouncing her around the room until she started getting fuzzy, and he, even reluctantly, handed the baby to you. You accomodated her against your chest releasing your nipple. She suckled inmediatly. Ben seated at your side, his eyes never leaving your daughter. He surrounded your shoulder with his arm, and kissed your shoulder softly. 

“Our daughter is so beautiful” he whispered against the skin of your shoulder 

“I agree” you giggled, “we make cute babies” 

“She looks just like you” he continued

“She has some mischief in her eyes, that’s all you” you answered back, making him chuckle. He dropped a lazy kiss.

“You look so hot feeding our baby” he growled against the skin of your shoulder, you giggled

“You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” you mocked, “remember tiger that we have 8 long weeks ahead of us”

“Ugh,” he whined. 

“I just gave birth to your baby” you muttered, impressed

“I know” he whispered, “you are so fucking amazing” You giggled, already accostumed to his horny demeanor, always so insatiable, even if you were certain you looked like shit right now. 

You both looked at your daughter feeding hungryly, only her cute sounds could be heard in the room. 

“I’m going to talk to the nurses about us getting released from this hellhole” he said, dropping one last kiss on your shoulder to rise from the bed and walk towards the exit.

You were already recuperated and ready to go, that was the silver lining about being a sup, incredible regeneration power. The doctors didn’t know about your powers, so they were all amazed about your recovery. it was always a fine line to walk, to live in hiding like Ben had made you live, you never knew who could be your friend or who could blow the whistle on you and alert Vought.

You sighed as you looked at your daughter, she was a carbon copy of Ben, only cuter, but she did have more resemblance to you rather than your son.

Your Son, he was so little yet that he didn’t have quite a clue of what was happening, he was barely 14 months old. Your son was being taken care of by a nanny you hired, you hoped that everything was going well. Ben still didn’t quite know how to use a fucking cellphone. 

“We are ready to go” announced Ben appearing again, you smiled, relieved.

“Let’s go home” you muttered 

Ben refused to put your baby on the car seat you had on the room, instead taking her in his arms to leave the room 

You grabbed his arm to be close to him and your daughter and your mind was swarmed with his thoughts, memories and above everything else, names he was concocting in his head

When one stood above everything else, you gasped

“Ben!” you exclaimed with a big smile

“Ugh, that power of yours is a pain in my ass” he grumbled

“It’s a beautiful name Ben” you whispered, kissing his cheek gently, “why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s silly” he grumbled

“It’s your mother’s name” you chastised gently

“That woman was a saint” he continued, “But I didn’t thought you’d like it”

“It's beautiful” you murmured, looking at your daughter, “Hey Elena” you cooed. She liked it, and it suited her, you decided. Ben leaned in and kissed the top of your head

“Thank you” he whispered

Taglist:

@danart501 @bxdbxtxh15 @lifeissomethingelse @ladystarkey @tzillas @immyowndefender @secretdreamlandmentality 

#the boys #the boys season 3 #soldierboy #misguidedpromised #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters

[pascaloverx]

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

preview chapter two

CHAPTER ONE

You never imagined yourself knocking on Dean Winchester's door. I mean, you don't count having had dreams about him that involved you getting to know each other intimately. But going to his apartment to ask for help wasn't in your plans.

"I need you." You say softly as if telling someone a secret. Maybe your speech sounds like a whisper. Dean's obviously not hearing you properly, because he's humming Livin' On A Prayer as the song plays inside his apartment at full volume.

"What?" Dean says almost shouting as he looks me up and down. He looks confused like he doesn't hear you at all. You then decide to do something. You approach Dean almost seductively and say close to his ear that he won't regret it if he turns down the volume.

"Does your sister know you're here trying to get me into bed?" Dean asks as he turns off the music that was playing. Nothing against Bon Jovi, but seeing Dean turn off the sound for thinking he's going to sleep with you kind of lifts your spirits.

"If I were going to let you fuck me, I wouldn't ask my sister's opinion. I don't think you ask Sam's opinion when you decide to have sex." You speak while still standing, hoping that Dean will notice that he is only in his underwear and change into more decent clothes.

"You come over to my house, make me turn off my music and now I've suggested that I ask my brother if I can have sex. This conversation seems better by the minute." Dean speaks clearly enjoying this moment. You end up looking at his body from top to bottom but as soon as he notices, you turn to face the door.

"I need your help." You say while avoiding looking at Dean. He might have noticed, since he put on some pants. Not that you watched him put it on.

"With what?" Dean asks as you turn to face him. He put on his pants but is still shirtless. But now is not the time for you to notice these things. Even though his body is...

"I need to write steamy scenes in my book. But I just can't do it. It's like I can't think of anything sexy and I need to get this book published soon." The words coming out of your mouth don't seem to fully fit together. I mean, what is wrong with you that you would look to Dean Winchester for help?

"And what do I gain? Helping you will take up a lot of my free time, you know..." He seems too convinced, as if his ego could fill the air in the entire apartment.

"Free time? You mean wasted time. You've been living off your rich mother for I don't know how long. And I intend to pay you for the consultancy." You say everything with a certain pretentiousness in your tone of voice. Somehow, Dean Winchester brought out the worst in you.

"Do you think that just because I have a rich mother my life is easy?" Dean says, getting even closer to you, getting so close that you could smell his perfume invade your nostrils. In fact, Dean Winchester smells like men's perfume and sex.

"I think. Maybe it's not the easiest thing for you but it seems easy. So do it as an personal fulfillment, do it for the money, do it to show your mother that you are more than her son." You say feeling a heavy conscience as you realize that maybe you were rude to Dean, maybe even a little unfair.

"Nice attempt to manipulate me. I'm going to deny the offer and urgently ask you to leave my apartment. I'm accompanied and my visitor should be waiting for me in the room. So there's less you want to insult me ​​more or join me and my visit, I suggest you go to your apartment." Dean looks offended, maybe a little irritated. You look at him a little regretfully.

"I'm sorry if I seemed rude. But I would really like your help and I'm willing to give you whatever you want." You say, desperately trying to appeal to the side you know exists within Dean. He might not even notice, but claiming you're willing to give him whatever he wants is just a lure to make him interested. At least that's what you tell yourself. But it doesn't seem to work, he closes the door just as you're about to cross the hallway that separates his apartment from your sister's. What a disaster, now you'll have to stop being a writer and move on to a new field. You can't live forever with your sister.

"Be in my apartment later. Let's start working on your book. And I'll decide what I get for the help I'm giving you. As you said yourself, you'll give me whatever I want." Dean says as he opens the door to his apartment while you open the door to your sister's apartment. You immediately turn around and hug him. Without any explanation, your first instinct was to run into his arms. And you only realize how strange that is when you see the half-naked woman coming out of Dean's bedroom and staring at the two of you hugging at the door.

"See you later, buddy." You say, giving Dean Winchester a slightly friendly punch on the arm so that his visitor doesn't find it so bizarre for him to be hugging you at the door. He looks at you as if you've lost your mind, and then you quickly leave, entering your sister's apartment, hoping that the partnership with Dean Winchester is a good idea.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural characters #jensen ackles characters #female reader #spotify #mary winchester #supernatural universe #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #john winchester #bobby singer #enemies to lovers #forced proximity #reader insert #writer au #Spotify

[zepskies]

As You Wish

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

AN: Here’s a little something in honor of Dean’s birthday! If you haven’t seen The Princess Bride, do yourself a favor. 🥰

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, and nothing but the fluff. (Established relationship.)

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” Dean says, right in time with the iconic swashbuckler on the screen, complete with his best approximation at a Spanish accent.

You giggle against his side, hard enough to rock both of you on the bed. When he agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

“Are you gonna quote the whole damn movie?” you ask.

Dean brandishes an imaginary sword with his fist held out.

“HELLO! My name is—”

Biting your lip, you cut him off short by playing dirty. You wrap your arm around his middle and dance your fingers across his ribs. He’d never admit it, but he’s got sensitive sides.

He flinches and laughs on reflex. “Hey, hey! That’s a foul move!”

His arm tightens around your waist while his other hand closes around your wrist. You try to grapple with him, your bare legs tangling with his pajama-clad ones, but you both know it’s a losing battle.

Dean gathers you tighter against his chest and traps your wandering hand.

Huffing another laugh, you relax again. His heart clips at a faster pace under your ear. Your hand smooths up his chest and finds its way up the back of his neck.

Dean can't help it. He lets out a contented hum when your nails give his scalp a little scratch.

For a moment, his attention drifts away from the movie and down to you. He spies the soft edge of your smile, feels your hair starting to itch against his arm, your soft curves under his hand, pressing against him.

You two don’t get these quiet days often, but he wants to make sure you get some rest. You, Sam, and Dean spent about three straight weeks in a row with back-to-back hunts, and the last one had really taken it out of you. So now, Dean’s satisfied to see you so relaxed. Happy, even.

Yeah. You really do seem to be as happy as he (secretly) feels.

Sometimes, he finds that part hard to believe. If you could want this with someone like him, then maybe…maybe he doesn’t screw up all the time.

Dean tunes back into the movie just in time for Buttercup to jump out of the window in her pretty white dress. She and Westley join Fezzik and Inigo on white horses, and the couple shares the kiss that left all the others behind.

Dean glances down at your face. He’s amused by the way you’re eating up all this sappy rom-com crap. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears. He ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“You just spring a leak over anything, don’t you?” he teases. You shove at his chest with a halfhearted hand.

“Only over the good stuff,” you retort.

He accepts that with a chuckle. When the credits start to roll down the screen, he reaches for the remote and searches for the episode you guys left off in Game of Thrones. You tap his chest.

“Hey, wanna go out to dinner tonight?” you ask. A warm smile plays on your lips. “Just you and me?”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time you two went on an honest-to-God date. No time, no privacy, always something evil on your asses…

A decision made in his mind, Dean gives you a smile back. He brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“As you wish,” he says.

AN: 😘 Hope you liked this one!

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

#As You Wish #Happy Birthday Dean Winchester! #dean winchester #the princess bride #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #zepskies writes

[chasingmidnights]

The T. Swift Project Masterlist

Below, you'll find a collection of 20 songs done by Taylor Swift. The songs are from various albums that I picked and are in no particular order. Each song will have a different character and the drabble attached to it will be one part. These do not have to be read in order. Each song will have a moodboard and a drabble along with it. I hope you enjoy!

The "Mean" Collection (6 Songs):

Tell Me Why (Taylor's Version) - Ransom Drysdale

Picture To Burn - Tony Stark

Should've Said No - Dean Winchester

I Knew You Were Trouble - Loki

Mean - Lloyd Hansen

Bad Blood - Draco Malfoy

The "Back to December" Collection (7 Songs):

All You Had to Do Was Stay - Thor

You're Not Sorry - Steve Rogers

Teardrops On My Guitar - Bucky Barnes

Back to December - Ari Levinson

White Horse - Nick Fowler

Come Back... Be Here - Dean Winchester

Death By A Thousand Cuts - Lee Bodecker

The "Dear Reader" Collection (7 Songs):

Wildest Dreams - Andy Barber

Out of the Woods - Ari Levinson

Fearless - Carter Baizen

Long Story Short - Jake Jensen

Question...? - Bucky Barnes

Bejeweled - Jefferson (Once Upon a Time)

Dear Reader

#the t. swift project #taylor swift #taylor swift songs #sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #marvel characters #jensen ackles characters #jared padalecki characters #tom hiddleston characters #chris hemsworth characters #robert downey jr characters #tom felton characters #bucky barnes #lee bodecker #steve rogers #ari levinson #lloyd hansen #carter baizen #dean winchester #nick fowler #loki #thor #jake jensen #tony stark #draco malfoy #marvel fandom #sebastian stan #chris evans #jensen ackles

[syrma-sensei]

CHOKE ME WITH YOUR ARMS, DADDY

#jensen ackles #supernatural convention #daddy jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles supernatural #soldier boy #beau arlen #dean winchester #supernatural #big sky #the boys soldier boy #the boys #the boys season three #the boys s3

[rosewritestuff]

First attempt at Kinktober! Some will be short, just a few sentences, while others will be my longer oneshot lengths!

Day 1 - Lloyd Hansen

Day 2 - Ransom Drysdale

Day 3 - Chris Evans

Day 4 - Chris Evans

Day 5 - Ari Levinson

Day 6 - Lloyd Hansen

Day 7 - Ari Levinson

Day 8 - Ransom Drysdale

Day 9 - Johnny Storm

Day 10 - Steve Rogers

Day 11 - Andy Barber

Day 12 - Ari Levinson

Day 13 - Dean Winchester

Day 14 - Chris Evans

Day 15 - Steve Rogers

Day 16 - Lloyd Hansen

Day 17 - Steve Rogers

Day 18 - Sierra Six

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Day 22

Day 23

Day 24

Day 25

Day 26

Day 27

Day 28

Day 29

Day 30

Day 31

#rose writes #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #chris evans #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #ari levinson #andy barber #johnny storm #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters

[wisefoxluminary]

Hi, I am considering to write a headcanon/imagines book on Wattpad about Jensen Ackles and his characters and I don’t where to start. I want requests on what I should write with them.

Here is the following characters I will be writing about -

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Soldier Boy/Ben (The Boys)

Alec McDowell (Dark Angel)

Boaz Priestley (Ten Inch Hero)

Jason Teague (Smallville)

Beau Arlen (Big Sky)

Jason Todd/Red Hood (Batman: Under the Red Hood)

I will not writing any inappropriate content or anything that involves Y/N. I may write smut if I feel comfortable.

Thank you

#jensen ackles #headcanon #i need ideas #my brain is scrambled #I am obsessing over this man you have no idea #should it be individual headcanons or headcanons with them all? #dean winchester #soldier boy #alec mcdowell #beau arlen #boaz priestly #jason teague #jason todd #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles characters