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apocalypseornaw · 26 days

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What's Mine

Dean Winchester x Reader

You and Dean have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks until you run into your ex on a hunt and Dean makes it a point to let it be known he isn't giving up what's his..you

The breath was knocked out of you when your back hit the dirt, Dean's body on top of yours was a familiar weight and he'd somehow supported your head to keep your neck from slamming at a weird angle when the two of you landed.

“You ok?” He asked breathlessly and you managed a smile “Had worse” you felt the heat of the flame from the open grave hit your side and knew Sam had torched the bones. Good thing too that damn ghost had tossed you and Dean both like a frigging ragdoll.

“You two good?” Sam called out and Dean who was still currently on top of you smirked “Been in a lot worse positions” you rolled your eyes and shoved him in the chest “Shut up and get off me Winchester” he got to his feet and helped you to yours before grabbing his chest playfully “Oh come on sweetheart. You're killing me here. You know you want me”

You felt your face warm at his teasing. Did you want him? Hell yes, who wouldn't? Did you have no clue where he stood due to months of flirting, light touches and getting so comfortable with each other you regularly ended up in each other's beds if one of you had a bad night.

“Oh yes. Let me ravage you in the middle of this graveyard covered in dirt and ectoplasm” you shot back and he grinned “Oh I'd take ya anyway I could have ya” you rolled your eyes and walked over to the grave where Sam was already filling in the hole and picked up a shovel. Dean joined the two of you and in no time the grave was back covered.

You looked from Sam to Dean “I need a shower” you announced only to be met with Sam saying he needed food and Dean saying he needed a drink. You laughed “There's a bar not far from our hotel. Sign boasted the best wings as voted by some traveling foodie. Let's hit the showers then we can grab some food and a few drinks before we hit the hay”

Dean grinned “That's my girl” and Sam shook his head “You two need to get a room” Sam was sick of the little dance you and Dean were stuck in as much as you were but you refused to make the first move. You knew how Dean was when it came to commitment.

You'd known both brothers for years and had started hunting with them full time after Bobby died then moved into the bunker full time after your last breakup.Sam was your best friend. You loved them both and refused to let your feelings for Dean come between that. He'd eventually make his feelings known, wouldn't he?

You walked in the bar between Sam and Dean, feeling Dean's hand at your lower back. It was a habit he'd long since started doing. Whether it was when the three of you were on a hunt, you went to the grocery store with him or something as simple as walking in a bar. When you'd asked him about it hoping he'd use the opportunity to admit anything he'd instead told you that he just liked to keep a hand on you. Something about in public places it keeping any pervs from thinking about looking your way.

You tried to ignore the instinct to lean into his touch. Was it possible he didn't want you like you wanted him? Maybe he really did just see you as a good friend and you were reading too much into things.

—--------------

Dean felt your back tense under his hand as Sam cleared the way to a booth on the back wall. “You good sweetheart?” He asked, leaning down so you could hear him over the music. You nodded but didn't give a verbal response. He was sure he'd blocked your head from taking a blow but maybe your back or ribs had taken a hit you hadn't admitted to?

He'd make a point to ask you before all of you settled down for the night back at the hotel.

He watched as you sat down on one of the benches then looked between him and Sam “Who's going to the bar?” He raised his hand slightly “you want your usual?” You nodded “Yes please” when you gave him a small smile he felt one slip onto his face in return but didn't miss Sam rolling his eyes. His little brother had been on his ass for weeks. The last threat had been “If you don't make a move I'm gonna start hitting on her for you. It's pathetic man”

—-------------

After Sam had eaten an extraordinary amount of wings for his usual appetite and you and Dean had split an order of mozzarella sticks you had gotten up to go to the bathroom. Normally one or both of them would walk you and wait outside the door but this once you'd convinced them to let you go alone.

When you got back out of the bathroom you saw that both of them had gone to the bar so you headed that way. You were almost to them when you heard a voice call your name you froze dead in your tracks, you'd recognize that voice anywhere. Your ex boyfriend Dominic.

The same ex boyfriend who'd broken up with you because “Ain't no way you're not sleeping with one of the Winchesters. They've never made a habit of working with any other hunter with the exception of Bobby yet you're always welcome to join them”

You turned to see him walking towards you. He was a fairly good looking guy. He was about six foot, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. You'd been hurt when he accused you but now there was a whole different level to that hurt considering it seemed the Winchester that you did now have feelings for would never want you.

“Hey Dom” you greeted with a smile. “How ya been?” He asked and you shrugged “You know the life, still breathing so I'd call it a win”

—------------

Sam knew you should be out of the bathroom by now. He had hoped Dean would use the night out to admit his feelings. He turned to look around for you and spotted you talking to someone, no not someone your ex. That was Dominic. This should be interesting.

He glanced at Dean, trying to consider if he wanted to do this or not but then he saw your shoulders tense and knew you well enough to know when you needed a rescue. “Isn't that Dom?” He asked if off handedly but Dean spun around fast enough a few people looked their way. “Yeah it is”

The muscle in Dean's jaw was clenched hard watching you talk to your ex and Sam knew it was now or never. “She doesn't look too comfortable. Maybe one of us should go over there?” He stood like he was going to but Dean grabbed his shoulder “Let me”

—-----------------

What had started off as friendly enough turned not so friendly the moment Dom noticed Sam and Dean at the bar “Which one is it?” “Which one is what?” You asked because you honestly had no idea what he meant. “Which Winchester are you fucking?”

Before you could open your mouth to respond you felt a strong set of arms slip around your waist and heard Dean's voice say “That would be me. Why? You got a problem with it?” You cut your eyes up at him so he used that moment to bring one hand up to cup your chin and when his lips met yours the entire bar could've caught fire for all you cared.

You'd thought of kissing Dean so many times, dreamt of it but good lord the real thing couldn't be described. He rolled his tongue against yours, exploring your mouth and letting you taste the bourbon he'd drank. His hand moved to the back of your head, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. You felt heat roll through your stomach as he pulled away from you leaving another light kiss on your lips before turning his eyes back to Dom.

“What was the issue of who she's with? Didn't you break up with her?” You could hear the venom in Dean's voice and felt his arms tighten around you protectively. This was new.

Dom shrugged “Yeah I broke up with her because I figured either you or your brother was fucking her” his eyes slid down to you then back up to Dean before he added “Or both of ya”

You felt Dean tense and knew you needed to diffuse the situation. Dom was strong, yeah but Dean was on an entire different level. He could easily kill him and not break a sweat. You gripped Dean's arms to stop him from moving “Baby,let's get Sammy and leave” you hoped you using a pet name for him that you normally wouldn't might get through his head.

He nodded “Yeah. Let's get back to the hotel” he slipped his arms from around you and grabbed your hand instead, lacing his fingers with yours. You took a few steps away and thought that was it, that Dom would use what brain cells he had and let it go. Instead he said “Does she still make that little sound right before she…”

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. Dean had dropped your hand and landed a solid punch before you could blink. Fuck. “SAM!” You shouted over the quickly growing crowd.

You didn't want to get close enough to get caught in the crosshair. Dean would be careful of you but add in enough drunks and adrenaline and accidents happen. “I got him” You heard Sam's voice before you saw him grab Dean's shoulder, ducking the thrown punch “C'mon he ain't worth it”

Dean looked up and met your gaze. You saw him take a deep breath then nod. “Yeah let's go” he reached for your hand and you gave it to him. Sam handed the nearest waitress a few twenties but by that time some drunks had helped Dom to his feet. He was holding his broken nose “So i was right. She's been fucking you”

You squeezed Dean's hand, silently begging him to not be baited. He pulled you into his side then turned to face Dom. “If I would've had her in my bed back then she would've kicked you to the curb long before you split and for the record she doesn't make any small noise with me” you felt your face warm when a chorus of “Ooohhs” went through the bar.

You spotted the bouncer headed in your direction and Dean must have too because he waved towards the door “I'm leaving. I'm leaving. This asshole needed to learn some manners”

The short ride to the motel had been in silence. You followed Sam into the room and headed for the door adjoining your room to theirs.

—-------------

You felt Dean grab your hand before you made it to the door “Can we talk?” You cut your eyes at Sam then nodded “Yeah. Come on” you walked into your room and waited until you heard Dean close the door to turn and face him.

“I'm sorry you were put in that position to have to defend me” You blurted out and he looked stunned for a minute then shook his head “I'm not. That guy's a fucking asshole. He never deserved you” you smiled slightly “Helluva punch and helluva kiss”

He smirked “I meant it” “The punch?” You asked and he rolled his eyes “The kiss you brat” you grinned “Oh really? What about the she doesn't make any small sound with me part?”

He pushed off the door, walking towards you with almost a predatory look. The same thing that made demons run the opposite direction had the ability to make your knees weak in the best way. “That sounds like you're doubting my abilities sweetheart?” You shrugged nonchalantly despite your heart pounding in your throat “Not like you've made a move to show me your abilities”

—--------------

He stopped just shy of touching you “Let me make myself clear if we do this that's it. You're mine, I'm yours. I don't want one night or just sex. I want all of you” “Good” you replied and that was all it took. He closed the space between you and if you thought the kiss in the bar was something it had nothing compared to the way his lips crashed against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss.

He backed you up to the bed and the moment the back of your legs hit it he eased you back on it, never breaking the kiss even as he hovered over you. Once the need for air forced you apart his lips moved across your jaw then down your neck “I've wanted you for so long” he spoke against your skin and you practically melted on the spot. “I'm yours Dean. I've been yours” you whispered and he groaned “Gonna be the death of me”

His hands gripped your shirt and before you could protest he ripped it right down the middle bearing your covered breasts to him. He bit down on one of them and when you moaned and arched your back he slipped his hands under you to relieve you of the bra as well, throwing it across the room. He looked down at you and the look in his eyes made your heart flip “You're so damn beautiful” he murmured before crashing his lips against yours again.

Your hands found his shirt so he broke the kiss long enough to slip it off and throw it, giving you access to his skin. Your hands smoothed over his chest, tracing the tattoo and small scars littered around it that even angelic healing didn't get rid of.

“I need more of you, please” he begged and you fucking whimpered hearing Dean Winchester sound that wrecked. “You have all of me Dean” you whispered and he left another searing kiss against your lips before moving down your body.

He slipped your boots off along with your jeans then panties leaving you bare to him before settling between your legs. He didn't give you time to adjust before his mouth found your core. The first lick was tentative, testing but when your hips bucked up into him he damn near growled before pinning your lower body down with one arm and diving in like a man starved.

—--------------

You were quivering under Dean. He'd already worked one orgasm out of you with his tongue alone and now had added two fingers into you as well. You were so close to that edge again and damn him he knew just what you needed. He turned his wrist to find that spot deep inside of you, running his fingertips over it as he sucked your clit into his mouth and you came again with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you came down from that high you shoved weakly at his head “Please Dean, too much” he left one final kiss against your clit before leaning back to grin up at you “Worth the wait?” You nodded weakly “Please take your pants off and get up here”

He stood and slipped his boots, jeans and boxers off before crawling up your body, kissing and licking every inch of skin he could on the way up. When he crashed his lips against yours you could taste yourself on him and felt yourself clench especially when he moved to your neck to work your pulse point with his tongue and teeth.

“Dean, I will return the favor next time but please get inside me” He grinned against your skin “Yes ma'am” you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance and rolled your hips up towards him. He slid in slowly, a low moan leaving you both at the feeling of him stretching you.

Once you adjusted to his size you tapped his shoulder “You can move” he gave a thrust and when your hands went to his shoulders, nails digging in, he groaned “That's my girl” before setting a punishing pace.

—------------

You were folded damn near in half, your legs on Dean's shoulders as he pounded into you. You felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes from being pushed to that delicious line between pleasure and pain.

Your legs were shaking, your whole body felt like it was made of liquid. You'd never had this many orgasms fucked out of you and it seemed like he was aiming for one more before he let himself come. “Dean please. I can't take any more” you begged and he kissed your cheek “One more baby. Please. You've got one more for me”

His fingers slipped between you, rubbing tight circles on your clit and you felt that pressure burst again,your vision going soft from the pleasure coursing through you. His thrusts started getting uneven and you knew he was close. “Fuck Dean. You feel so damn amazing. Please come for me, fill me up” you sobbed, fucked senseless.

He groaned,burying his face in your neck as he gave one final hard thrust and you felt when he came deep inside of you.

—----------------

He slowly eased your legs down but stayed inside of you as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal. When he pulled out he apologized at the low whine you gave before going to grab a warm rag to clean you both up.

After he was sure you were cleaned up and didn't need anything else he climbed into bed next to you and pulled you over on his chest. “No regrets on wanting me?” He asked and you felt your heart jump at the uncertainty in his voice despite having just fucked you senseless. You leaned up to look up at him “Why? You already sick of me?” You teased and his eyes narrowed “Don't even woman”

You laughed lightly “I'm sure Dean. You're who I want” “Good, because I'd hate to have to kill anyone who tried to take you from me” you shook your head “Not happening Winchester. You're stuck with me” He pulled you back on his chest and left a kiss on your head before saying “I've been stuck in a lot worse positions than having you in my arms”

#dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction

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mydearzero · 9 months

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Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree.

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason?

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor.

Doctor Spencer Reid.

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age.

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability.

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside.

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery.

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth.

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly.

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation.

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him.

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you.

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer.

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite.

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body.

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted.

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class.

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart.

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat.

If only you knew how true that was.

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down.

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school.

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer.

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile.

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices.

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act.

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact.

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment."

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking.

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you.

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him.

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now.

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you."

You gaped at his vulgar words.

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again.

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered.

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh.

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly.

Sinker.

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps.

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly.

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better.

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip.

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke.

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat.

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing.

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw.

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it.

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him.

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat.

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?"

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before.

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face.

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs.

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you.

"Good girl." He said the riveting words.

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing.

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed.

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean.

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him.

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg.

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough."

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked.

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought."

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart.

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze.

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him.

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back.

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind.

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast.

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips.

"Please, Spencer. Please."

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes.

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine.

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage.

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name.

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles.

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage.

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again.

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out.

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck.

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm.

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk.

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously.

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks.

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily.

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game."

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir."

Spencer groaned at the title.

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again."

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg.

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips.

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor."

PART 2

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octoberclidan · 19 days

Text

Stolen Glances

Request: Can you write a smut story with dean in it I was hoping a friends to lovers sort of thing

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Note: this is 18+ only. Do not read this if you're under 18.

Story:

Glances. That's all she could get of him. She watched from the passenger seat of the Impala while the sun and the wind worked together to scatter highlights through his hair, and she listened as he sang along to his tape as if there was no one in the car with him. She smiled as she watched him enjoy the drive, no monsters to hunt down, no angels or demons after them, just a drive to get supplies for the bunker. He'd come to her room in the early afternoon to see if she wanted to come with him, and she never said no to spending more time with him, to catch more glances, to see small glimpses into what her life would be like if he was hers. He looked over to her after the song ended and she quickly looked away, not wanting to he caught stealing her glances.

"Think they'll have pie?" He asked and she looked back at him, rolling her eyes and laughing.

"Remember how you threatened the poor guy last time they had none? I think they order in twice as many now just in case you come in looking for it".

"Hey, don't bring up bad memories", he gave her a fake glare before looking back out at the road, and he smiled when he heard her quietly giggle to herself.

"Sorry, I forgot how traumatic that experience was for you".

"Worst thing that ever happened to me", he smiled while shaking his head. Although he was joking, [Y/N] sometimes wondered if being disappointed by a store being out of pie was somewhere up there with all of his other traumatic experiences in his head.

"Well, if they don't have pie then we can get the ingredients and I'll make one for you".

"Are you trying to get in my pants? 'Cause that'd do it", he grinned, glancing over for a second to admire the blush he'd created on her cheeks.

"Just drive", she couldn't help but smile, turning her head to look out of the window, hiding how easy it was for Dean to get her flustered. No one had ever given her butterflies with just a smile. Especially not a cocky smile. Then came Dean Winchester, so naturally confident, more attractive than any man she'd ever met. Just one wink from him and her heart would skip a beat, just one gentle brush of his hand against hers and she lost all sense of herself. She could keep her heartbeat and breathing steady when she was in hand-to-hand combat with any monster or demon, but one stolen glance at Dean and she couldn't control it. She didn't know if it was just a crush that she hadn't been able to get over, or if she was actually in love with him. She knew she loved him in some sense, she loved Sam and Cas too, but her feelings for Dean ran much deeper than familial love. She was hesitant to put a label on it though, and she'd never tell him.

Dean pulled into a parking space right in front of the store, and he led the way in, [Y/N] following behind him. "You wanna go grab the toilet paper? I'll get the food", Dean asked and [Y/N] nodded, and the two went their separate ways. She wandered down the aisle where she knew she'd find the toilet paper, but stopped when something caught her eye. Condoms. She couldn't remember the last time she'd needed them, she wasn't into casual sex with strangers like she knew Dean was, or even Sam was on occasion. Living in a bunker and spending most of her time either inside it, or across the country on a case with the boys, didn't really give her much time to build a relationship with anyone other than the boys. She often visited the local bar with Sam and Dean, and she never really liked the lonely trip back to the bunker on the occasion that they both found someone else to go home with. She had been feeling more and more in the mood for it recently though. Her fingers and her imagination, mostly occupied by thoughts of Dean, just weren't cutting it anymore. She wanted to find a man, but she'd been holding herself back, always finding excuses. She figured that maybe if she bought a pack of condoms and kept one in her purse, she'd be giving herself one less excuse to leave their bar alone.

She quickly grabbed a packet and made her way to the toilet paper, grabbing a few other toiletries on the way to hide the condoms. The last thing she wanted was for Dean to see them, raise his eyebrow at her, and make some smart comment on them. She knew she'd probably burn her cheeks with the embarrassment if that happened. She made her way to the checkout and paid for her stuff before heading outside to wait for Dean. She shoved the condoms into her jacket pocket while she held the rest of her things in a bag, waiting by the car for him to come out. In hindsight, she should've taken the keys from Dean so she could sit in the car, she knew he'd take longer if he was the one shopping for food. The air was warm, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the light breeze in her hair.

"Hey Sweetheart", Dean's voice caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to see him walking towards her, his hands full with bags. She could see a familiar box of pie peaking out of the top of one, and she almost felt disappointed. She wondered if she'd had to make one for him, if it would give him a reason to like her more.

"Hey", she smiled, pushing off the car. "They had pie?"

"Yup", Dean chuckled. "Dude scrambled to go get it when he saw me, I didn't even have to say anything".

"I'm telling you, he's terrified", she laughed and Dean shrugged sheepishly at her.

"Hey, could you grab the keys? They're in my pocket", Dean turned to his side and nodded down at his pocket. She nodded and reached into his jacket pocket with her free hand, but Dean cleared his throat when she found his pocket was empty. Looking up at him in confusion, she noticed a light blush across his nose. "Uh, sorry, I meant my jeans".

"Oh", she said, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. "Right". She took her hand out of his jacket pocket and reached into his jeans pocket, quickly pulling out the keys and unlocking the car. They set their bags down before she silently handed Dean the keys and they got into the car. As soon as the engine was turned on, Dean turned on the music, neither of them making eye contact. She didn't know why it was so awkward, they'd been a lot closer to each other than having a hand in the other's pocket. She'd cleaned and stitched up wounds on his chest, stomach, and back. He'd cleaned and stitched up wounds on her shoulders, thighs, and sides, and it was never awkward.

About halfway back to the bunker, [Y/N] finally stole a glance over at Dean. The sun was starting to set, filling the Impala with a warm orange glow, and it hit Dean's face perfectly. They were coming up to a turn in the road when Dean looked in her direction, meaning to look out her window but catching her staring at him instead. When their eyes met, she jumped slightly and turned to look out the front of the car instead, but she looked back when she heard Dean chuckle. "What?" She asked, and he smirked before nodding down at the space between them, then looking back out onto the road. She looked down and immediately her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Her box of condoms had slipped out of her pocket and were now sitting beside her, fully visible to Dean.

"You seeing someone?" He asked as she quickly stuffed them back into her pocket.

"No", she shook her head, looking out the passenger window, not wanting to catch his eye.

"You planning to?" He asked, glancing over at her. She thought he sounded worried. She looked back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Maybe? Why does it matter to you?"

He shrugged as he looked back out the window. "Just think that if you're planning on going home with some guy, then Sam or I should know where you are. You know, for safety".

She scoffed and shook her head. "You don't tell me where you go when you find someone to hook up with. You think I can't look out for myself?"

"No, I do", he said, clearing his throat. "I just didn't know you were into that kind of thing".

"I'm not", she said quietly. Talking about one night stands, or sex in general, while alone with Dean was something she'd managed to avoid so far. She couldn't help but notice that he kept glancing at her as he drove. He quickly looked at her pocket, then back to the road, then to her eyes, then back to the road, then to her chest, then back to the road, then to her lips, then back to the road. It was making her feel a little self conscious, but it was also making her feel warm inside. After a few moments of silence, Dean cleared his throat again.

"So uh, if you're not into it, what's with the condoms?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in my purchases?" Her cheeks warmed again as she saw his neck turn pink. Why did he look nervous? This was Dean, he didn't get nervous that easily.

"I'm not", he said, and she turned away from him again.

She sighed, contemplating whether it would be more or less awkward to continue the conversation. She didn't want things to be awkward between them later, so she figured it would be best just to get it out of the way now. "It's just... been awhile for me. I'm not into one night stands, but I also have needs, and desires, you know?" She asked, and Dean swallowed, nodding, but kept his eyes on the road. "So I figured, next time I'm at the bar, I'll give myself as few excuses for rejecting a guy as possible".

"Oh", he nodded. He stole another glance before muttering a "fuck this" and pulled over onto the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" She asked in confusion, and Dean turned to fully face her. She noticed that his eyes seemed darker than usual, and his chest showed he was breathing heavily.

"I can't concentrate on driving, I can't concentrate while thinking about you being prepared to go home with some guy, while thinking about you having needs and desires. Fuck [Y/N], do you even realise how hot you are?"

Now she was swallowing nervously. No man had ever looked at her quite like how Dean was looking at her, nothing but desire on his face as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, like he was finding it difficult to restrain himself. She blinked at him, completely speechless, waiting to wake up in her bed. Never in a million years would she ever have thought Dean would look at her like that, that he'd want her like that. Yet, here he was, waiting for her to say something, to give him permission. She glanced down at his lips as he licked them, and she couldn't help herself, she shuffled closer to him, sliding along the front bench. He lifted his arm up and onto the back bench behind her, and took his other hand off the steering wheel and grabbed her thigh, pulling a gasp from her as he angled her to face him. He left his hand on her thigh as he stared down at her, so close she could feel his breath on her face.

They glanced at each other's lips as they leaned in towards one another, finally closing their eyes as their lips touched. Dean almost immediately pushed his tongue into her mouth as he gripped her thigh tighter, and she moaned as his other hand slipped off the bench and into her hair. She slid her hands up his chest, leaving one there feeling his heart beating quickly as her other hand continued up to his face, feeling his stubble under her finger tips. Neither of them cared that they were on the side of the road as Dean's hand left her thigh and slid up under her shirt, his thumb just below her bra and his fingers gripping her side. She giggled as she pulled away from him, looking up and smiling. "That tickles".

He smiled at her as he leaned down for another kiss, pushing her down onto the bench and leaning his elbows either side of her. He pressed himself on top of her and she moaned as he ground against her. He left her lips and kissed along her jaw down to her neck before pushing his hand inside her jacket, pulling it off and letting it fall to floor of the car. He pushed his hand back up her top, feeling her body. "Dean", she whispered. He pecked at her neck once more before pushing himself up to look at her properly.

"Yeah Sweetheart?" He had that smirk on his face, the one she was all too familiar with, the one that made her imagine all sorts of scenarios with him.

"You're wearing too many clothes".

He chuckled before looking up over her head, out the passenger window. Luckily it was a quiet road, there didn't seem to be many people about. "Wanna get in the back? There's more space". He watched her blush as he spoke. "I mean, if you wanna keep going that is".

"Well", she bit her lip as she reached up cup his cheek. "I am prepared and everything".

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her up, reaching over her to open her door. She laughed at how excited he seemed, his smile making him look like he didn't have a care in the world, like this moment between them was the only thing in existence. He grabbed the condoms out of her discarded jacket, and they quickly got out of the car. Dean used the time to shed his own jacket before they slid into the back seat. Dean immediately grabbed [Y/N] and pulled her onto his lap, making her stradle him. He moaned as she leaned into him, feeling a hardness beneath his jeans. She began kissing at his jawline and neck as his hands found their way back up her top, his thumbs pushing up just under the cups of her bra, his fingers spread around her sides. Dean had large hands, and they made her feel small in his grasp.

"Fuck, that feels good", he groaned as she kissed just below his ear, his skin hot on her lips. "Can I take this off?" He asked, sliding his hands back down and tugging at the hem of her top. She leaned back slightly and nodded, and he grinned as he pulled it up and over her head, tossing it over the bench into the front of the car. "And this?" He asked, his hand running along the shoulder strap of her bra. She nodded again, this time a bit shyly, as he reached around to undo the clasp. Her bra fell away from her chest and he helped her slide the the staps down her arms. "Better than I imagined", he chuckled as he grabbed a breast in each hand, his thumbs flicking over both nipples.

"Imagined?" She asked, her fingers now toying with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Every day", he mumbled, completely distracted by the sight in front of him. "So many quick glances, not enough time to properly look", he said as his hand ran down her side, making her shiver, "and feel", he added.

She started to pull his shirt up and he complained when he had to take his hands off her to get it off, but as soon as it was on the floor, his lips were on hers in an instant. His tongue pushed into her mouth and he breathed heavily through his nose as she trailed her fingers over his stomach and up across his chest to his shoulders. She was taking her time with really feeling just how solid he was, how much muscle had had, how strong he felt under her. Her hands finally found their way back down to his belt, and she quickly unbuckled it. Getting the idea, Dean turned to his side and lay her down on the seat, leaning back to kick off his shoes and push his jeans off. She stared at him and the bulge in his boxers, the little wet patch from his arousal making itself apparent.

She reached down to unbutton her own jeans when his hands landed on hers. "Let me", his tone sounded almost like a plea as he waited for her to say yes, but she was lost in his appearance. Dean Winchester, stripped down to his boxers, a lights sweat on his body, his cheeks flushed, his lips slightly swollen, all because of her. Dean Winchester was looking at her like he'd never seen anything he wanted more. "Hey", he said, leaning over to cup her cheek. "Are you okay? Is this... this is still okay, right?" He asked, and she blinked, swallowing back her amazement and nodding.

"Yes", she said. "God yes, this is okay. I just got lost there for a second... do you even realise how sexy you are? Fuck Dean, look at you". He blushed and looked away from her, concentrating on her jeans again. Once they were undone, he pulled them down her legs, pulling her shoes off as he did so. Once she was left in just her panties, he leaned down to kiss her thighs, but looked up to her to catch her eyes as he did. He started to kiss higher up her legs, skipping over her underwear and kissing just below her belly button. She ran her fingers through his hair as she looked down at him, nervous but excited to watch him explore her body with his mouth.

He pecked her once more before hooking his finger into her panties and pulling them to the side, completely exposing her to him. He groaned as he leaned down, closing his eyes and licking up through her wetness. When he started to circle his tongue around her clit, she immediately clamped her thighs around his head, and gripped his hair tighter in her hand, surprised by how intense the pleasure was. "Fuck... sorry", she breathed out, relaxing her hold on him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Do whatever you need, I'm into it", he kissed the inside of her thigh before focusing his attention back on her clit, now watching her reaction as he stroked a finger over her entrance. When she bucked her hips towards him, her inserted his finger, smiling to himself as she moaned. He continued to lick and such as he pushed another finger in, pumping in and out.

"Dean, stop, I'm close and I want us to cum together", she said through gritted teeth. He pulled away from her and raised his eyebrows.

"You sure? I can give you more than one".

"No", she shook her head, trying to calm herself. "The first one, I want it to be together".

He smiled at her as he nodded. She was completely lost in the moment, nothing else mattered other than the fact that Dean Winchester wanted to have sex with her in the back of his car, and it was about to happen. She watched with wide eyes as he pushed his boxers down, his cock fully erect, a bead of precum sitting on top. She licked her lips, she hoped they'd find themselves in a similar situation in the future where she could focus all of her attention on that, but right now she wanted him inside her. Dean grabbed the little box of condoms and pulled one out, splitting the wrapper open and pulling the rubber out. She fumbled with getting her panties off as she watched him expertly roll it onto himself.

"You ready?" He asked as he crawled on top of her, and she smiled up at him.

"Yes, I want to feel you", she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He positioned himself between her legs and slowly pushed in, holding his breath until he was as far as he could get. He let out a slightly shaky breath as he maneuvered slightly, caging her in between his arms.

"You feel so good", he whispered, leaning down to kiss her lips. He drew out of her slowly, just leaving the head inside, before thrusting back in. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tight as he set a steady pace. He kissed her lips, cheeks, jaw, and neck as he continued, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Their breathing got heavier the closer they got, and the kisses got sloppy as they both moaned and groaned and gasped at every spike in pleasure.

When Dean felt her tighten around him, it pushed him over the edge, and just like she wanted, they came together. After a moment of catching their breaths, Dean kissed [Y/N]'s lips and pulled out. He discarded the condom and then grabbed [Y/N]'s waist, spinning them so he was lying down on his back with her on top of him. She snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her hairline and started to stroke up and down her back. "I never thought that would happen", she said quietly, and Dean sighed in content.

"I'm glad it did", he said. "And I hope it will happen again?"

She lifted her head to look at him, and leaned in for a quick kiss. "It's definitely happening again". They both grinned at each other before they went back to cuddling. They knew there would be no more stolen glances, they could just take as many as they liked.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32 @livingdead-reilly @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @darthysfanfic @dramatic-long-coats @kr804573 @cutiesarah

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supernaturalistthings · 2 months

Text

Years

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: How Dean Winchester would finally admit his feelings to you after hiding them from you for years.

Warnings: soft core smut (heavy kissing and touching)

You were the human embodiment of the stars and moon that helped Dean focus on the roads on late nights. You had a fire that would roar to life like his beloved car while having a softness and comfort to you like the well loved leather seats. Every dream girl Dean had ever imagined paled in comparison to you. You were incredible in every way to him, mesmerizing.

He had for years longed to feel the softness of your face in his calloused hands. To feel your heartbeat directly against his. To run his long fingers through your beautiful hair. To finally feel what it would be like to be kissed by you. He could picture it, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what your gentle lips would feel like moving against his undeserving own.

On nights where he had a room to himself he would think of how soft your thighs must feel. How it would feel to run his hand from ankle to hip. How it would feel to hold you in his hands. To fit with each other like puzzle pieces. How you would look at him while he did it. You would look at him with that smile of yours, beaming eyes of adoration and warmth like he'd never felt before, and he would melt. Not even knowing what to do next, even though he had done this countless times with others. It would be different with you though, you were different. Not like anyone or anything he had ever encountered before. You were the love of Dean Winchester's life.

It pained him to not tell you, to keep something so big from you when he shared everything with you. He knew you'd be upset at knowing that he kept anything from you but, he couldn't bring himself to do it no matter how hard he had tried. It's like his breath was taken away every time he tried to utter the words to you. Everytime he was around you.

Yet here you guys sat on an old worn out motel couch, a movie roaring, green and pink neon lights streaming through the cracks in the curtains. He knew nothing about him had ever been close to perfect, until he met you. This was perfect.

You were sitting next to him, his arm slung lazily over the back of the couch almost as if he had his arm around you. You were focused intently on the screen, but he was more interested in the way you reacted to the movie rather than the movie itself. The way you'd jump a bit at some random scene, and blush at the couple making out in the next was Oscar worthy to Dean in itself. Best picture, by far.

“So what'd you think?” you say breaking him from his thoughts.

He looked at you, mind racing but all he could say was “it was alright” with a smile

“Oh c'mon you know you liked it” you would say with a smirk getting up and leaving the warmth of your presence behind to grab a beer from the fridge. You close it behind you and turn back around to see Dean deep in thought.

“Where's your head at?” you'd say cocking your head slightly to examine his contemplative state.

He stared ahead.

“Dean?” you'd say trying to gather his attention, which didn't work so you leave the bottle on the counter and slowly make your way over to him. You rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. He slowly starts to turn his head to look at you. You can see from his eyes that his mind is racing. He's almost breathless.

“You okay?”

“Not really” he’d huff out and shake his head as he turned his attention to the floor. This was it. Now or never. He couldn't stand the thought of never. He stands and meets your eyes once again and puts his hands on the curve of your waist while he slowly leans in keeping eye contact the whole time until the space between your lips closes. Both of your eyes flutter closed and you savor the new sensation of each other for a second before he pulls back looking at you questioningly. Awaiting some kind of reaction. He hoped that everything or even just some of what he was feeling was communicated.

You were speechless, breathless even. You were sure he could feel your heart racing. Never in a million years did you think that your feelings for Dean Winchester would be returned. That you could finally share the love you harbored for him, with him.

“Im sorry” he breaks the silence and continues, “i had to do that, even if it was just once” he says, slowly and tenderly lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face while searching your eyes for any sign of reciprocation. Anything that told him there was a chance his dreams could be real, that there was a chance. He had never felt so desperate for anyone or anything than he did in this moment. He was looking at you longingly when you finally broke yourself out of the shock. ,

“it doesn’t have to be just once…” you’d say looking into his green eyes trying to convey the desire you had to be his and only his that you’d had for years. You place your hand on his toned chest and run it up to the short hairs on the back of his head. Gripping and pulling him into a second kiss. Both of your eyes flutter shut once again and you start to slowly move your lips against each other. Feeling and breathing each other in.

Everything you needed to hear was painted beautifully from his lips onto yours as they moved in perfect synchronicity together. Both of your heads were racing with the memories of moments they thought they had read the other wrong and slowly realizing and accepting each other's feelings. No more “almosts”. Dean's hands traced from your waist up to the sides of your face, his hands rough against your smooth cheeks just like he had imagined and could now actually feel. He tenderly cupped your face in his hands, his arms flexed against the black t-shirt covering his broad chest. He held you there like he needed you to breathe, and in this moment he couldn't help but feel like he did.

“This is all i've wanted for so long” he breathes out against your lips and then unable to help himself keeps kissing you.

“You have no idea” You'd say in a whisper back and feel him smile into the kiss. Your lips were needy against each other, finally feeling what they had been desperately searching for. The weight of unspoken desires was lifted. With every touch came a new depth of connection and love. The silence filled with breathy kisses and the sound of clothes ruffling against each other's hands as you lightly caressed over each other, holding each other in all the different ways that had been desired by the both of you for years.

You were lost in each other, in a place where time had no meaning and no one else existed. You both savored each kiss, touch, and minute as if it were eternity itself. Any shadow of a doubt was gone.

You pulled back smiling, beaming at him. He looked at you like every girl wants to be looked at. You needed him. He had opened the floodgates by kissing you and you couldn't think of anything else you wanted more right now than to be one with him.

Your smile drops slightly as you slowly and you silently bring your hands to the hem of your shirt to lift it off yourself. Dean's hands reach gently to stop you, eyes dark looking into yours with concern. He takes your hands into his and looks seriously at you and says, “I don't want to rush things..” You look at him and tilt your head, smiling, taking the sides of his face into your hands.

“I've wanted this for years now Dean, I don't feel rushed at all.” you say breathlessly and filled with hope when you continue, “Do you?”

His face softens and he looks at you deeply, fully absorbing what you said when he realizes you're right. This isn't rushed, this is the perfect moment. A culmination of years of words unsaid, of touches missed, of glances held a few seconds too long.

“Not even a little” he says looking deep into your eyes with a soft smile and gently brushing your cheek, pulling you in once more. Sealing the space between the two of you once again. You leaned on your toes and gripped his toned upper arms while he slithered his arms around your waist and held you close. He slowly and affectionately moved his hands down your back and over your soft rear leaning over slightly to rub over the tops of your thighs, while you needily ran your hands through his short hair. The kiss was never broken even as he started shuffling your bodies nearer the bed on the other side of the motel room.

#dean winchester #dean winchester headcannons #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester moodboard #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #supernatural headcanon #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester headcanon #dean #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester masterlist #dean winchester smut

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yesimwriting · 3 months

Note

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

#bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix #saltburn x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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anatay004 · 3 months

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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."

Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.

It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.

"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.

When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.

So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.

"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."

"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.

"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.

So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"

Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.

"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.

"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."

"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."

"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.

"Then why are you always looking at him?"

You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.

"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."

With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"

You pretended not to hear him.

"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."

There was a moment of silence.

Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."

Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.

"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"

Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.

"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.

This was not part of the deal.

Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.

You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.

"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.

"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.

Is it so bad to marry me?

Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.

"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.

"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.

"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."

Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.

"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."

You took a deep breath.

Remember why we're here for.

"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."

Your head was spinning again.

"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.

You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.

And, somehow, Finnick did too.

"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.

"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.

But he wasn't convinced.

And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.

"Finnick Odair"

"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."

You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.

Remember why we're here for.

With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.

Remember why we're here for.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."

You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.

It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.

"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.

"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"

The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."

"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."

You blinked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"

The crowd cheered.

"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."

Your mouth fell agape.

For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?

Was he even okay with that?

What the hell was he thinking?

"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.

"Are you really trying to have a baby?"

"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?

Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."

"You don't say."

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."

"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.

As if he'd suddenly understood something.

"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.

"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.

"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"

You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.

All while Peeta grinned at you.

"You should've told me about the baby."

Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.

Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.

Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."

"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.

"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"

You didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.

"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."

And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.

"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.

You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."

"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"

Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."

Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.

"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "

"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?

"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.

"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."

"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."

He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.

"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."

Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"

Your question made him swallow.

"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"

Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."

You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.

"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.

"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."

Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.

And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.

And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.

But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."

And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."

Your mouth went dry. "What — "

"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."

"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."

Your heart sank when he shook his head.

"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.

"We could win the games."

"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."

He was right.

And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.

And you didn't want to lose him just yet.

"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.

"Always."

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.

Finnick was gone.

Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.

“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”

“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.

“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”

Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.

For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.

Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?

Team Peeta or Team Finnick?

Please let me know you thoughts

@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom

#finnick x reader x peeta #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #hunger games finnick #finnick fanfic #finnick odair #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

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hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

#hotvintagethoughts

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hauntedpearl · 6 months

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nov 5 is anniversary dinner at the winchester household but it's like..no one talks about it. everyone gets together but they pretend like it's because it's just. you know. a regular coincidence! we're just hanging out! we didn't even look at the calendar! they're all laughing too loud and forcing jokes and being overly casual about it.

dean gets real quiet when there's a break in conversation or when he's alone. cas gets this look in his eyes like he's not where he is. if they can't bear to be separated on the day, well. no one has to know. or even if they do, no one mentions it. so they eat one handed and they hold hands under the table until their knuckles are turning white and they're just standing pressed together when they're supposed to be doing the dishes and they DON'T talk because they still can't figure out how to sometimes and today is definitely the day that is sometimes. and if they get hugged extra tight when everyone leaves, well. they don't mention it. they're grateful but they don't talk about it.

the first year, it's almost a wake in the house. well, there was no house then, but there was the bunker, and it was home. but yes. it was almost a wake, disguised as a celebration. they'd all crowded around the map table, sitting in chairs and on the surface and trading stupid stories and playing boardgames and throwing scrabble tiles at each other because that's not a fucking word, dean and then even when they'd tired of the act, they just sort of sat together and drank and said nothing like it was agreed upon beforehand that they weren't gonna let dean and cas be alone and dean had been so grateful he didn't know what to do with it. it was like this grief wasn't supposed to be there, you know? but it was. it was. and there was no ignoring it. but you couldn't let it drown you so you did what you could.

the year after that is more of the same, though the house had emptied before midnight . and yes there was a house by then. and a porch swing and deck chairs and kitchen windows and her gardens and retirement, even though dean didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of that word in his mouth. dean woke up that year with a pit in his stomach and he'd panicked because cas wasn't there, cas wasn't touching him, cas was gone , gone, gone, but then he'd blinked his eyes open to see that cas had just curled away from him in the night, was still here, sleeping, soft and open mouthed, and dean could touch him without straightening the bend in his elbow and he did and he tugged until they were pressed together again and he'd closed his eyes and sighed. cas went somewhere far away during the day, and dean thought he was going to suffocate in the house because he didn't know how to bring him back, to make him aware of the ground under his feet. but then his family was there, filing into the house somewhere around noon, in groups of twos and threes. they brought food and wine and movies and they pulled at the arms of the men who'd turned hollow-eyed until something like light slipped back into them.

it's the third year now, and the dishes are drying on the rack and the house is emptied of its guests and the quiet is just a little bit more bearable than it was the year before but somehow that feels like enough, because dean's not drowning and neither is cas, even if the water pulls at their legs, and that's a damn win in his book. dean checks the locks on the doors and the windows of his house and brings cas an afghan, drapes it over his shoulders, pulls him close until he's lying back against dean's chest on the couch. and they turn on the tv and it's the kind of shitty programming that comes on when it's after halloween and not yet christmas and it's pushing 2 am on the oven clock, but it's good white noise, and sometimes cas laughs and dean feels it against his chest, in his bones, and he thinks that's all it's about anyway. that laugh's kind of the point of everything. so he sighs and hooks his chin on Cas' shoulder and doesn't say how scared he is, sometimes, even now, or how he doesn't want to close his eyes tonight, because he's not sure what he'll wake up to tomorrow and doesn't say that there's something stinging the back of his eye even if there's no reason for it. instead he just slips his fingers through Cas' and buries his nose in cas ' hair and breathes. and well, isn't that a miracle.

#nov 5th FEELINGS POSTING #is this fic it's not it's a headcano.#headcanon #destiel #IM SORRY #doe is talking again #IM SORRY BC IDK WHAT IM DOING

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drulalovescas · 7 months

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I fucking hate when we say Dean would've never given up on that rusty rebar if Cas was alive, he'd keep fighting, and are being called delusional shippers because it's a fact that has NOTHING TO DO WITH SHIPPING!!! You don't have to believe Dean and Cas were madly in love (even tho they were duh) to know Cas had always been Dean's hope and faith. You can LITERALLY SEE IT ONSCREEN throughout those 12 seasons. Every time Dean loses Cas he also completely loses hope and his will to live. Cas was an angel that pulled him out of Hell. That looked him straight in the eye and said you matter, you deserve to be saved. That saw through all his facades, saw the good and the ugly and NEVER judged Dean for the ugly. Dean had such a shitty self-esteem but the sense of "I must be worth at least something if an angel of the Lord bothered to save me from the Pit" must have lingered at the back of his head (even if at times he refused to believe it). So yeah, Dean's it's okay I'm ready to die in that atrocious finale is directly connected to him losing Cas permanently. And seeing and acknowledging that has zero to do with shipping.

#had cas been alive (even if human)#dean would've been like #sammeh get me the fuck off that rebar and call the ambulance i gotta live #sorry for my rumblings but this has been on my mind for some time pissing me off lol #destiel #castiel #dean winchester

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kerryweaverlesbian · 1 month

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Dean watching Cas talk about something overcome with how smitten he is, fully not processing anything Cas is saying just going mmhm yeah yes totally, his head repeating cas kissing cas mouth mouth pink cas love him kiss Cas. So he doesn't even really notice himself leaning in and doing it until Cas pulls away and goes "um. ?" and Dean's brain clicks back on at 100 miles per hour. He says "I um. I didn't..." he looks around and sees Sam's bug eyed surprised face bc he was there this whole time bc it was just a normal conversation. Dean says "I just gotta. Um. I'll see you around." And fucking legs it.

Cas and Sam are left in awkward, confused silence. Cas puts his hand up to his mouth and, after a beat, asks "is the formation of rock pools really so stimulating?" (Bc that's what he'd been talking about) and Sam's halfway through saying "I have no clue, man," when Dean bursts back into the room, grabs Cas’s face and kisses him thoroughly because, fuck it, if he's going to have to deal with how awkward he's just made things he may as well have a kiss he can remember out of it.

Obviously, Cas gives as good as he gets, and Sam's like (amused) "okay I guess we'll talk later" as he makes his escape. Dean, with his hand already making its way up under Cas’s shirt, calls "much later. Next year, Sammy" (Cas kisses his neck) "next DECADE."

#cawis creates #destiel #gay little homosexual 💕❤️🥰#when I say I looove the accidental kiss trope. I love it.

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apocalypseornaw · 17 days

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Fantasies

Dean Winchester x Reader

You start having dreams about the eldest Winchester which puts a strain on your friendship

You groaned lightly from the tightness in your side, it was decorated vibrant shades of purple from the last hunt. All of you were currently sticking to the bunker and licking your physical or mental wounds until the next case called.

You walked out of your room trying to decide if you wanted to go in search of coffee or just wander through the stacks in the library. Sleep wouldn't find you and your mind wouldn't allow you to simply lay in bed.

You ended up deciding on a bottle of water before going in search of a book to busy your mind until maybe exhaustion would win out. You walked quietly into the library and was surprised to find you weren't the only occupant of the bunker still up.

Dean sat at the table, an open lore book in front of him but you could tell from the look in his eyes his mind was on anything but the book. "Dean?" You called and he startled slightly which honestly shocked you. No one snuck up on Dean.

He smiled when his eyes landed on you "What are you doing up sweetheart? You got pretty banged up" you rolled your eyes despite the smile slipping onto your face. Of course he was worried about your side when Sam had to put his left shoulder back into place. "I'm fine Dean. Are you ok?"

He nodded then stopped "No, I'm not. Can we talk?" You laughed lightly "We're talking now Winchester" he narrowed his eyes at you so you grinned "Sorry" then walked over to sit next to him but instead he grabbed your hand at the last moment and directed you to the table in front of him.

It wasn't unusual for any of you to end up sitting on the table during a rundown of a hunt but that was when it was all three of you and you were fully dressed. Now you were wearing the long tshirt you'd worn to bed and a pair of boys boyshorts that barely covered everything. You sat down in front of Dean and pressed your legs together, pulling the shirt down "What's wrong Dean?"

He leaned forward, tentatively putting one hand on your bare leg "You" "Me?" You asked and he nodded "Jody may have let somethings slip to me" you felt your face warm, why would she do that? You'd told her in confidence. "I know you don't feel the same about me Dean" you barely whispered, keeping your eyes down on your lap.

He leaned forward to catch your face in one of his hands, forcing your eyes to meet his "How do you know I don't? How do you know if you're not the only thing ever on my mind? How I hate you wearing this damn outfit to bed because if I ever catch Sam looking I'm gonna knock his head off. How I'd give anything to bend you over this table and show you just how much I feel the same about you"

By that time he'd moved from his chair to be standing between your legs, one hand holding your face while the other was still on your leg. You could feel your heart in your throat when you saw the hunger in those gorgeous green eyes that was watching your every move. "Show me" you whispered and a grin worked its way onto his face. He caught your lips in a bruising kiss as you felt his hand slid up your leg to your inner thigh. When his fingers brushed over your clothed core you moaned lightly and he smirked against your lips "Damn that's a beautiful sound"

He slipped one finger under the shorts and groaned when he realized you weren't wearing any panties. He plunged two fingers into you and your hips bucked up towards him. His eyes went from your face down to watch as he fucked you with his fingers "So damn pretty,coming apart on my fingers. Can't wait to feel that little pussy stretched around me"

He caught your lips again, slowly exploring your mouth with his own as he worked you closer to that edge. The moment his fingers grazed that spot inside of you, you clenched hard around his fingers and he moaned "Fuck, baby I'm trying to take this slow but you're making it hard"

You pulled back from the kiss just long enough to slip your shirt over your head, leaving you completely bare from the waist up "Take it slow later Dean but for now please just fuck me like you want me" He closed his eyes just for a second but you could see his jaw clench tightly. When he opened his eyes they were a darker shade of green and fuck his voice sounded deeper than usual when he said "Yes ma'am"

"WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY. WE GOT A CASE" Dean's voice booming through your bedroom door jolted you awake. Your heart was pounding wildly and you were fairly certain your panties were soaked. Fuck. These dreams about Dean had started months ago, they had been sporadic at best but now it was beginning to be a reoccurring thing. How the hell could you keep living in close quarters, hunting side by side when the one thing you wanted from him you knew you couldn't have?

Reality

#Dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

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zepskies · 6 months

Note

OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

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