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whore-era · 1 year

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infatuation - part 1

☁︎ delinquent!ellie williams x preppyfem!reader, enemies to lovers trope ☁︎ smut, angst, tiny bit of fluff ☁︎ summary: don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your girlfriend. ☁︎ warnings: 18+ only. kissing, fingering & oral (r!recieving), masturbation, mentions of weed and smoking weed, mentions relationships w/ men, feelings, kinda mean ellie but then shes nice again, arguing and yelling kinda (let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes) ☁︎ a/n: i wrote this in like one day. hope u all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! ya nasties ;) ☁︎ word count: 4,347 ☁︎ 1/2 - part 2

you swore to yourself you’d never let yourself get involved with the university’s infamous delinquent— ellie williams. but you should’ve known that’d be hard to avoid, knowing she was just in reach as your roommate’s best friend.

ellie was always, and i mean always, there in your dorm. either chilling with dina, talking with dina, or, much to your disliking, smoking with dina.

ever since you ran into her on the first day of dorm move-in, she was constantly there, bickering with you, poking at you, and judging you for every little thing you did.

ellie had this image of you; an image of this perfect, high maintenance, always put-together, prissy, goody-two-shoes. it was far from the truth, well, kind of.

you did pride yourself on being one of the smartest girls on campus, and being very active in numerous extracurriculars at school. you were in the student body, the recycling club, the campus book club, the health club, the cooking club— you were just in a lot of clubs.

but it would be an understatement to say that ellie williams is everything opposite of you. she was on the other side of the spectrum you were on.

ellie williams was aggressive, a smartass, foulmouthed, risky, and usually up to trouble. always going to the dean’s office for a fight she probably started. the only reason why she hadn’t been kicked out from campus was because her stepdad is the dean's brother. don’t get yourself wrong, she was brilliant being an engineering major. but she was always doing something she wasn’t supposed to as if it fueled her drive.

you unlocked the door to your dorm, greeted with a fog of smoke. hacking out a cough, you switch on the lights, “dina!! what’d i tell you?” you lecture, stomping over towards the window to open it, “if you’re gonna smoke in here, at least open the window!”

“sorry, roomie,” dina coughed out, “we were just hotboxing.”

you turned towards the pair, criss-crossed on dina’s bed, and furrow your brows, “what? hotboxing?”

“yea, you know, smoking weed ’til the room fills up with smoke, so the high is more enhanced.” dina explained, you tilted your head to the side, still not fully comprehending whatever hotboxing was.

the brunette girl leaned against the wall, giving you a smirk. “c’mon, dee. don’t waste your breath explaining,” ellie retorted, “i’m sure lil miss perfect here never smoked or drank before.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms, “for your information, i have drank before.”

“oh yea? when was the last time, princess?” god, you hated that nickname. you hated the way it made you red in the cheeks.

“….at church.” you muttered quietly, sending ellie and dina into a fit of laughter.

“did you hear that, dee? at church! she said the last time she drank alcohol was at church!” ellie let out a boisterous laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“good one, princess.”

you huffed, rolled your eyes, and rummaged around your side of the room to search for what you were looking for in the first place.

was it so wrong for you to not drink or smoke weed? you didn’t think negatively about anyone who used it, but you just didn’t feel comfortable using something that had such an effect on you. you wanted autonomy over your body at all times.

bingo. you found the cropped white baby tee you wanted to change into, finding it more comfortable than the scratchy sweater you had on currently. turning away from the chatter of dina and ellie, you lifted the sweater above your head, tossed it in your laundry bag, and slipped into the more fitted and more comfortable white tee.

standing in front of your mirror, you checked your outfit. you thought a simple t-shirt and black yoga pants were cute enough to hang out with jacob in. you fixed your hair, and looked up at the corner of your mirror, your eyes meeting green ones.

ellie bit her lip, watching the beautiful yet stubborn girl in front of her. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. you just looked so goddamn beautiful. she couldn’t help but take a peek at the way your bare back curved or how soft your skin looked as your sweater slid off your body. ellie definitely didn’t complain about the yoga pants either and how they hugged your ass and thighs in all the right places.

knowing she was staring at you, you hiked your yoga pants higher and bent over a little, reapplying your favorite shimmering lipgloss in the mirror. you weren’t sure what came over you, but the feeling of knowing ellie was watching you, gave you butterflies in your belly.

you see her smirk and break eye contact with you. picking up your backpack and your ‘Organic Chemistry 101’ textbook, you bid dina a goodbye.

“i’ll be back later tonight dina, don’t wait up for me.” you said, slipping your shoes on.

ellie cleared her throat, “where you headed off to?”

“pi kappa alpha frat.” you met ellie’s eyes. they looked disappointed, but then quickly rolled to the side, masking whatever sadness you thought you saw.

“hm, i see,” ellie commented, “gonna go blow some frat dude’s cock, huh?”

you groaned, “ugh, no, idiot. i’m just gonna go study.”

“mhm, whatever you say, princess.” you open the door and leave, hearing the sound of dina yelling ‘be safe’ right before you left.

walking down the corridor, you thought to yourself ‘jacob isn’t that bad’. i mean, you both aren’t in a relationship by any means. you would describe it as ‘situationship’. jacob was nice, funny sometimes, cute, had a nice body, and was cool. him as a boyfriend though? you weren’t sure about that. he was good company, provided mediocre sex, and was nice to talk to, well, usually he’d talk about hockey and you’d listen. but that’s beside the point. you’re content with this situation, right?

walking back to your dorm from what was probably the worst sex of your life was, quite frankly, embarrassing. you spend time changing into a cute outfit, fixing your makeup, and spritzing on a little bit of your favorite expensive perfume to show up to this dude’s room with him reeking of sweat and ham. you were disappointed, to say the least.

yet, you stayed anyways, unsure of what even compelled you to do that. you stayed for the company, and that company starts rubbing on your ass and tits not even 5 minutes into the netflix show. eventually, you give in, feeling in the mood from a little making out, and you were met with 3 thrusts and cum on your stomach.

needless to say, you left in a hurry. currently cuddled under your pink duvet with your earphones on, you end up scrolling about on instagram, tapping to like and swiping up to comment on your friends posts.

while aimlessly scrolling, a picture from @e.williams pops up on your timeline. you study her picture in fascination.

it was a mirror picture of her in the gym, she had her hair up in her usual half-up half-down style with a tight tank top accentuating her physique as she was flexing her arms. gosh, how could someone so annoying be so gorgeous? your eyes trail to her arms and hands. and so fine? you double-tap on the picture, looking at it for a second more before scrolling past to the next post.

your phone vibrates, and you check the notification from your instagram dm’s.

@e.williams: you checking me out or something ??

you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. luckily, ellie wasn’t here to see that, or else you would’ve never heard the end of it. you type back.

in ur dreams idiot

you lay in bed closing your eyes, and somehow, your mind drifts off to that annoying green-eyed girl.

your mind goes to the way she looks at you when she thinks you don’t notice, or how even though she comments on everything you do, she’s so attentive about it. your mind plays in your head the way she calls you those stupid nicknames, and as much as you claim to hate them, you can’t deny the way it makes your heart flutter.

then, your mind floats to the corner of your brain that you keep locked away. you think about the way ellie bites her lip when she gets anxious, how better her lips would feel pressed onto yours. you think about the way she flexes her arms and hands, wondering how they would feel stroking your most intimate parts.

you find your hand inside your panties. luckily, dina was in the communal showers, doing her 25-step skincare routine. knowing you had the time, your hand goes down to your wet heat, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

you close your eyes, picturing her in your head, imagining her fingers working on you instead. you think about how perfect she’d look above you, looking down at you with adoring eyes. you knew she’d take good care of you. you suppress the need to moan by biting down on the duvet.

even when she wasn’t here, ellie had a way of drawing out unrecognizable responses from you. your finger still rubbing circles on your clit, an orgasm began to bubble in your stomach. you picked up the pace, legs beginning to shake, “fuck, ellie..” you manage to moan out as you finish on your fingers.

gosh, what was this girl doing to me?

it was saturday night and you had managed to get another date with jacob. you rejected him at first, but he was very persistent and promised ‘mind-blowing sex’ and takeout from one of the best restaurants in town. you obliged, clearly in it only for the takeout.

you thought it’d be a good idea to hang out with him. his hockey stories distracted you from the real person you had your mind stuck on, ellie.

you thought about her all the time, it gave you a migraine. you couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore without feeling nervous. luckily, you managed to avoid her all week, hanging out at one of your good friend’s dorm room ’til you knew the coast was clear.

you didn’t let yourself think about what it would be like being in a relationship with ellie williams. she didn’t like you at all, not in that way anyway. she’d probably make some comment like ‘hell would freeze over before i even look at you like that’. the two of you together would be a recipe for disaster. you literally despised each other.

smoothing down your dress, you smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. you went over to your desk and sat down, getting ready to apply some light makeup.

hearing the door open and close, you assumed it was dina.

“damn, who died?”

your head turns and meets those stupid green eyes and that stupid smirk adorned with those stupid freckles that make your stupid heart race a little faster. god, you were so stupid.

“ha ha, very funny,” you snapped, “what are you doing here, anyways?”

“dina doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours and i didn’t have jackshit to do, so i thought i would wait for her here,” ellie plops down on dina’s bed.

“hell, no. get out,” you demanded, pointing to the door. you really just wanted her to leave so you could let go of the breath you’ve been holding. it made you anxious being alone with her and the fact that she wore that stupid blue button-up that made her look so good didn’t make anything better either.

“chill out, princess,” ellie said leaning back against dina’s head board, “you won’t even notice i’m here.”

you huffed in frustration, trying to hide the crimson creeping up on your cheeks. you proceeded to get your mind off the brunette by continuing your makeup, intently dabbing your concealer in, and carefully curling your lashes. you pat your face gently with some powder and brush out your brows, once in a while looking to the side of your mirror, catching ellie looking at you before she quickly looks away, pretending to be on her phone.

“gettin’ all dolled up for your lil’ boyfriend?” she asks dryly, still looking down at her phone.

“wouldn’t you like to know?”

“please, do enlighten me, princess.” you swallow hard, “i’ll have you know that i’m going out with jacob anderson tonight.”

“no fucking way, is that the shithead you’re seeing from pi kappa alpha?” she says, surprised with wide eyes.

“mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, still rummaging in your makeup.

“why am i even surprised, you did always gravitate towards the assholes.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”, you paused and raised a brow.

“you go for assholes,” she stated, “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“jacob is not an asshole, he’s really nice.” you muttered, patting on some blush. “he’s hell of a lot nicer than you.”

okay, you knew that was a lie. but you had to think of a way to get her off your back.

“m’yeah, i highly doubt that. he’s a fucking tool,” she says nonchalantly, “where’s he even taking you anyways?”

“he asked me to meet up with him at the frat house, we’re gonna watch netflix and eat takeout and stuff,” you admit.

“you fuckin’ with me?” ellie looks surprised and almost pissed.

“no, why would i?”

“are you serious? it’s pouring rain outside and he asked you to come over,” she points out, “the asshole didn’t even have the decency to come over here and walk with you himself.”

your eyes look out the window, barely registering the pitter-patter of the rain hitting your window. you didn’t even know it was raining and you wore a dress. your mind was so consumed with classes, ellie, clubs, ellie, student body, ellie, and ellie. the small details just flew right over your head.

you stay silent, and she just gives you a look. a look you couldn’t decipher.

“you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?” ellie retorts, crossing her arms. jesus, why did she have to look so good like that?

“what’d i do this time? please, share with the class.” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“you just go for guys who treat you like garbage or who’re way out of your league.” she argues, “they’re either too stupid or don’t give a fuck about you.” ouch. that kind of stung.

you close your eyes, waiting before answering back at her, “can you stop it?! just for once. stop judging every single thing i do.” you yell, exasperated.

ellie’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh, which sets you off even more.

“you think this is funny? you always make some snide comment about me. i’m too high maintenance, i’m a teacher’s pet, i’m spoiled, i go after horrible guys—“

“because you do!” she yells back.

“and why do you care, ellie?!” you yell, becoming out of breath, partly due to the hard pounding of your heartbeat in your chest, “why do you care so much?

she goes silent.

“god, you infuriate me, ellie williams.” you breathe out. you felt almost as if fire was igniting inside of you and your slow breaths were releasing the smoke. you close your eyes, attempting to calm down before opening them again and putting on the last finishing touches on your makeup. as you stand up grabbing your purse, and you hear ellie let out a heavy sigh.

“you’re seriously still gonna go out with that fucking frat bro prick jacob anderson? after everything i said?” she snarks, “i thought girls like you were supposed to be smart.”

“yea, as a matter of fact. i am still going,” you give her a mocking smile.

“why? so, he can fuck you missionary in the dark while he finishes in 3 seconds?” she lets out a harsh laugh, “how fucking romantic.”

“again, why do you even care? you don’t even like me,” you counter, her head spins in your direction.

��who told you that?” ellie appeared angry, her eyes sharp and a serious tone in her voice.

“no one that matters.”

there’s a pregnant pause in the air as if she’s hesitating to say something.

“well, whoever the fuck they are, they’re wrong.” she confessed, her voice wavering.

“what do you mean?”

she sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair before standing up in front of you.

“i’m infatuated with you.”

“huh?” you manage to croak out in shock. did you hear her correctly?

“yea. you heard me. i’m infatuated with you. you fucking consume every corner of my mind. every capacity of my being.” she comes closer to you, backing you up against the door, “you drive me absolutely insane.”

“then why do you treat me like this?” you ask, looking up at her with big, curious eyes. ellie’s eyes soften at you.

“because— i hate seeing you go on dates with those dicks who don’t deserve you. i hate seeing the way you dress in those short-ass fucking dresses and skirts for them. i hate knowing that they don’t even make you feel good. i hate that you waste your time on those assholes instead of—,” she breathes, “—instead of me.”

you look at her, searching for any sign of doubt in her face. nothing. no. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t spring this on you. she couldn’t act one way to you for months and then tell you something different the next.

“so what? you think you deserve me? you deserve my attention?” you snap ungraciously.

“as a matter of fact, yes. yes i do.” she whispers, getting closer to you. “you and i both know it,” her breath fans your face, “i’d make you feel better than any of those assholes could.”

you shift uncomfortably in your spot, pulling your eyes away from hers.

“i can give you everything you deserve. i can give you everything you want.” she swears. “i can make your pussy feel so, so good, baby,” you can feel your wetness pool in your panties.

“can make you whimper and moan,” ellie suddenly grabs you by the bare flesh underneath your ass, her warm hands hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist.

“jus’ give me a chance to show you.” she whispers lowly. you smash your lips onto hers, your hands holding onto the nape of her neck. you knew this was probably a bad idea, but god, the way her tongue felt in your mouth felt ungodly. her tongue rubbed against yours, exploring your mouth like it was something she was destined to do.

walking towards your bed, your frame still wrapped up around her, she bent down to lay you on your bed. ellie pulled away from your lips and looked down at you, scattering gentle kisses below your jawline towards your neck, your legs still firmly wrapped around her figure.

with your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her lips all over your neck, you attempted to put an end to this. “el, we can’t,” you nearly moan out.

“why? ‘cause of jacob?” ellie lets out an amused laugh, before pressing her lips against the weak spot of your neck, sucking on it.

another moan vibrates through you, “god, ellie,” you let out meekly.

“tell me to stop,” she commands, her lips moving to suck on the spot above your collarbone, the tip of her tongue gliding against your skin. don’t stop.

“tell me that i’m wrong,” ellie murmured, “that i don’t deserve you.” you deserve me.

her fingers lift up the hem of your dress, exposing your stomach. her lips pepper sloppy kisses against the supple skin of your stomach, “tell me you don’t want me,” i want you, “that you don’t feel the same for me.” i do feel the same for you.

“tell me, baby,” ellie kisses in the space between your breasts, “tell me you’re not mine.”

your heart was beating in and out of your chest. this was it. this was your chance. getting an opportunity to be with ellie williams was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and you weren’t passing up your dream girl.

you grab her face, lifting her lips up to yours. “i’m yours, ellie,” you cooed, “i’m all yours.”

leaning her forehead against yours, her lips curled into a smile, before pressing onto yours one more time. her warm hands rubbed against the skin on your waist, exploring every inch of warm, flesh. you whined against her mouth, wanting more. you needed more. you needed her.

ellie’s hands trailed upwards, lifting the dress off you and discarding it somewhere in your room. she took this opportunity to pull away from you for a second, her eyes grazing your body. ellie found it hard to believe she was in this situation, with you underneath her, nearly naked and looking angelic. she took a mental picture of this moment, never wanting to forget how you looked at her— with love.

her fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall and tossing it to the side.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “you’re beyond anything i could’ve dreamt of.”

your stomach erupted in butterflies, flushed at this newfound sweet side to ellie. her mouth placed sloppy kisses on your chest, sucking on the soft skin and leaving maroon-colored marks as a reminder of where she had been and where she belongs.

she took your breast in her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around your hardened nipple. “oh my god, ellie,” you hissed. she smirked up at you, letting one of her hands massage and pinch on the other nipple.

“please, ellie,” you begged, “touch me, please.”

she let out a sickening chuckle, the heat of her mouth fanning your skin, sending shivers up your spine.

“where, sweet girl?” she said bringing her lips down to suck on your nipple again, “use your words.”

you bucked your hips up, “please, el, touch my pussy. pretty please.” you breathe out.

“ah, ah, ah, can’t hear you, baby.” she mocked, pulling her lips away from your now sensitive nipples.

“ellie, please,” you whined out, “i want you to touch my pussy. please.”

she smirks, satisfied with where she has you. “that’s my good girl. how obedient, hm?”

she stands up, still in between your legs, and pulls your body to the edge of the mattress. her hands go to the waistband of your panties, using her fingers to ever-so-slowly peel them off of you. she was intentionally moving agonizingly slow. her hands caressed your inner thighs and calves, finally chucking your panties somewhere on the floor.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting so long to do this,” ellie said, crouching down on the floor in front of you. you could feel her hot breath against your pussy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer.

“please, i need you, el,” you beg, hoping for some relief. her hands lifted your thighs and placed them on her shoulders, her lips pressing soft kisses in between your thighs. she presses a kiss against your inner thigh, on your pussy lips, and then finally on your clit.

ellie works slow and patiently, using her fingers to steadily spread your pussy lips apart and gather your wetness with her tongue. she uses one finger and inserts it inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

you throw your head back, “oh my god, ellie, yes,” you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“look at you, getting what you want, you spoiled girl,” she mutters against your pussy, before putting her lips on your clit again, sucking on your sensitive core. her finger pumping in and out of you easily, the slick sound of your wetness reverberating throughout the room.

“you taste so fucking good, baby,” ellie hums against you, slurping up every drop of your juices. she adds a second finger, stretching you out a bit, but still sliding in and out of you with ease.

her tongue flicking against your clit combined with her fingers fucking you was enough to almost send you over the edge, you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a loud moan that was tempted to come out.

“no, let me hear you, sweet girl,” ellie orders, “let everyone in this whole goddamn hall hear how good i’m fingerfucking you right now.”

you let your hand drop to your side, relishing in the ecstasy, and letting out a moan you were holding back.

“that’s my girl.”

you hear your phone ring, knowing it’s jacob, probably wondering why you haven’t shown up by now. but here you were, with ellie, knuckles deep inside your pussy.

she grabs your phone from the nightstand with her free hand, while the other is picking up the pace with her fingers, eliciting another moan from your parted lips, “hey fucker, leave a message. she’s busy right now.”

you should’ve scolded her about how she answered your phone, but right now, any consequences you thought about vanished as she continued licking circles against your swollen clit while simultaneously curling her fingers up inside your leaking hole.

“el—“ you barely choked out, “m’gonna— gonna—“

she kept the same pace, not for a second slowing down, “you gonna cum, baby? huh? you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded weakly, clenching your pussy around her fingers and tightening your thighs around her head.

“go ‘head, angel,” her pace never misses a beat, “show me who you belong to.”

your back arches off the mattress and you cry out, riding out your orgasm and letting your juices flow out of you.

after cleaning your thighs with a wet wipe and towel, ellie comes up to hover above your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“is it too late to ask you to be my girlfriend?” she asks, letting out a sincere laugh.

“i thought we already established this, idiot.”

read part 2 here

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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majordemonblockparty · 2 months

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that one line from bobby's hunting guide or whatever, about how john picked up dean one night on the side of the road after dean had gone out looking for him... in my gut I know john was a "get out of the car; you're hoofin' it from here" kind of parent. a "quit that right now or you're walking home; hope you can find you way" kind of parent.

so I need sam waiting on tenterhooks in the motel room of the week, up way past midnight waiting for john and dean to get back from a hunt. for him to breathe deeply for the first time in what feels like days when he hears the rumble of the loudest car in the universe rolling into the lot, and for john to give the special knock at the door and sam's so relieved to let them in, equilibrium resettling, all three of them together under one roof.

only dean's not with john.

he's not out under the weak light of the parking lot sodium lamps. he's not crouched over the back seat of the impala, rifling through the footwell. he's not unpacking gear from the trunk or coming back from the bank of vending machines with condensation-wet cans of squirt jammed in his pockets or leaning bloody and spent against dad's shoulder.

he's not. fucking anywhere.

I need sam losing his absolute shit, zero to feral in six-point-three seconds flat. screaming and scrabbling at john, "where is he where is he where the fuck is he?!" I need sam just sobbing with his whole chest because it finally happened, this is his nightmare, his literal worst fear realized because dean's dead out there somewhere and knowing dad, he's probably already salted dean down and soaked him in gasoline and lit him up, a tragedy with no loose ends.

I need sam just wailing, can't catch his breath crying, the ugly snotty gagging kind of crying as john finally just manhandles him back into the room and tries to tell him, "jesus, sammy. he's fine. thought it'd be a good idea to run that smartass mouth of his on the way back, so he's taking a little time to himself and walking the last stretch here."

I need sam who looks at john with more disgust and visceral loathing than a twelve year old should be able to manage. who grabs his coat off the bed and his knife from under the pillow and is out the door into the night before john can get a hand on him. I need sam sprinting down the busted concrete drive to the main road and taking off along the sloping gravel shoulder in the oh-dark-thirty blue-blackness, still crying but trying to get his breath back so he can holler for dean.

(I need dean trudging along in the pre-dawn dark, pulling up short when he hears the slip-slide of running feet on gravel headed towards him and his name screamed into the dark. dean who takes off at a dead run because sammy sammy sammy sammy shit-fuck sammy what's the matter)

(I need sam who launches himself bodily at dean when he finally gets close enough. who lets his heart pound rabbit-quick against dean's chest through their jackets. who's probably too big to be picked up and held like this, really, but who can't won't let go once he's got dean wrapped up in his arms. who slides around to dean's back and pulls dean's collar aside so he can put his ear to dean's pulsepoint as he's piggybacked the rest of the way back.)

anyways... john pretends to be asleep when they make it back to the motel. they know he's awake, he knows they know he's awake, but no way is he gonna look at sam's face again without at least five hours of sleep under his belt.

(nobody says a word about it when they pack up and check out in the morning. nobody says a word about it, ever.)

#fic shit #john winchester #headcanons & other nonsense #sam winchester #dean winchester #she speaks

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pagannatural · 1 month

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2.07 The Usual Suspects

-Sam being interrogated about Dean is so so good because we get to see Sam being told that his brother is a scumbag criminal and the way he reacts by rolling his eyes like he’s heard this before. It’s almost like seeing a teenage version of Sam. The detective keeps telling him to throw Dean under the bus and the whole time he’s just giving attitude and plotting how to help Dean and work the case. He keeps looking out the window. Some of his reactions are raw and some are fake and some are both and his mind is running through his options assessing what to do and how to get out of this.

When confronted with the cliff notes on his and Dean’s life, Sam runs the gamut of emotion from sad and grief-stricken about Jessica to defending Dean and acting all scandalized to being a smartass, to whatever the hell this is when she says “it’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our family”

The double meaning here. The not meeting her eyes, the tension on his face, the disdain. It’s giving Bitch don’t I fucking know it, yet I would choose him a thousand times and every time I would be a little bit miserable. “It’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our [soul mates]” is probably what God tells him in his most comforting dreams.

-So the detective’s theory is what? That after a shared sordid serial killer childhood Sam escaped the life and then Dean murdered Sam’s girlfriend in a house fire to lure him back in and make him his crime wife?

Because I mean yeah I would read that AU. That fits their vibe pretty nicely.

-She says “Dean’s a bad guy….his life is over, yours doesn’t have to be” and Sam looks at her like that’s the dumbest thing he has ever heard.

She doesn’t know that they become sickly and depressed when they’re apart like a pair of bonded sewer kittens.

When she tells him he can get on with his life and Dean’s as good as gone you can almost see him tuning her out and calculating how to lie about this.

-Sam starts on his cover story, using his trademark Sweet-Innocent face. He relies on his charms and on appearing helpless to manipulate people into doing what he wants. He would’ve learned to do this when he was a child as a survival skill, and I can just imagine how well this complemented Dean’s tough but earnest seduction thing. Acting sweet and helpless when you’re actually savvy and resourceful is a trope commonly used in female characters. These traits (innocence, sweetness, feigned helplessness) are associated with women gaining/utilizing agency in the ways available to them.

Because narratively, Sam is the girl. It’s stuff like this, plus the way he’s depicted as Dean’s tempting damsel in distress in other episodes. It increases the sexual tension between Sam and Dean when they rely on these archetypes because we know what it means when two leads are masculine and feminine, when they need each other and the plot hinges on their conflict. It means they’re the love interests.

-Dean makes a joke about Sam being Scully, and Sam’s like I’m not Scully you’re Scully, and Dean says “No I’m Mulder. You’re a red headed woman.” Really spelling it out.

Dean is smirking and making prolonged eye contact and just— he’s flirting. There’s a Bruce Springsteen song titled “Red Headed Woman” about how “it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.” I have no idea if this is what Dean’s referencing or if it’s just a Scully reference but it’s a very specific thing to say and Sam is brunette. The song is very suggestive.

-Dean HATES waiting around while Sam works. Within seconds he becomes insufferable and has to leave to go do something, flirting with Sam again on his way out.

-“Sam’s story matches Dean’s to the last detail” they didn’t even SEE each other before talking to police! They’re just so connected that they tell the same exact story. Then they both work on the case in their separate interrogation rooms using different methods and arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. They also make the same joke about their public defender.

-I keep seeing this post about who knew Dean better, Sam or Castiel, and I just want to point out that these two are so in sync they can essentially read each others minds.

-We have an outsider perspective on their lives and relationship a few times this episode, and the detectives comment more than once on how weirdly connected the brothers are. Like, Dean communicates to Sam via movie reference to escape and Sam is already all over that, he’s been assessing how to climb out the window since his first scene.

-Dean tells the detective to go to Sam so that Sam can save her life, giving her their info on “how we find each other when we’re separated.” That’s very practical. It’s also true that when they aren’t together they are obsessed with finding each other and making sure they know exactly where the other is at all times. They must have felt so untethered when Sam was at Stanford. I’m imagining Sam going on a little trip over spring break and feeling like he’s forgetting something really important and starting to panic only to realize it’s just that Dean won’t know where he is.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #wincest #spn 2x07

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zepskies · 11 months

Text

Midnight Espresso

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: You’ve never taken Dean’s flirting seriously…until he asks you for an impromptu Spanish lesson.

AN: The muse hit me hard on this one last night lol. I felt like "Midnight Espresso" was catchier than the working title, "Midnight Coffee Shots."

Thanks for the encouragement and inspo: @deanwinchesterswitch @iprobablyshipit91 @freewastelandstrawberry

Song Inspo: "2 Be Loved (Am I Ready)" by Lizzo

Word Count: 7,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, mutual pining, body insecurity, ass appreciation, supernatural shenanigans, naughty language, bad bitch o’clock and thicc thirty.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

When you spot the caller ID on your buzzing cell phone, you have to smile. You answer the call.

“Well if it isn’t Dean I need a favor Winchester,” you tease. You hear his genuine chuckle, deep and smooth in your car speakers.

“Hey, sweetheart…” He hesitates, which makes your lips curve wryly.

“Yeah, Dean? What’cha got?”

“I need a favor.”

You sigh dramatically. “So fucking predictable.”

“Sorry, but look. We really do need you…we’ve got a situation.”

“Oh, a situation? How specific,” you chuckle.

“All right, smartass,” he says, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. “Just listen…”

When he tells you the lowdown on the case he and Sam are on, you have to change directions—all the way to a dusty little town in the south of Texas.

There you find the brothers Winchester outside La Cantina Libre.

You greet Sam first, stretching up to meet his hug. He’s friendly and warm when he rubs your back.

“Good to see you,” he says.

“You too, lumberjack,” you reply, noting the new layer of scruff he’s sporting on his face. Sam gives a dry chuckle and rubs his bearded chin.

“I keep tellin’ him to shave that ferret off his face,” Dean remarks. You turn to him with a grin just as he pulls you in next.

“Aw, he looks good,” you say, giving Sam an encouraging look behind Dean’s back. The taller Winchester sports a good-natured smile.

But you revel a bit in Dean’s warmth when he holds you tight, then let out a little breath when he pulls away, grasping your arms.

“So do you,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes and playfully hit his shoulder. “Right. Eight hours of cross-country grime really becomes me.”

But you can’t help blushing a little at his smirk. Always a fucking flirt.

You turn your head to the bar in front of you.

“What’s the deal with this place?”

“The husband of one of the victims is inside,” Sam explains.

According to the police report, his wife returned home from a night out with her friends three days ago. She sat down in the middle of the living room, on the ground. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t eat.

When Hector Rivera brought his wife to the hospital, neither fluids or medication helped her sleep or retain any nutrients. The official cause of death was starvation and dehydration.

It was a baffling case, both for the doctors and the police, who never found any criminal evidence to support a murder investigation.

“Okay, have you talked to Hector?” you ask. Dean raises his brows at you.

“That’s where you come in,” he says. “The guy only speaks Spanish. Neither me or Sam got the chops to Duolingo our way through.”

You can certainly believe that of Dean, but you still make sure to tease Sam on your way inside the bar. He’d studied Latin in high school, but hadn’t bothered to take Spanish?

“Definitely a white boy move,” you tease, which Sam accepts with a chuckle.

But you realize that the guys really would’ve been at a loss here. Most of the bar patrons are Spanish-speaking Latinos (you are a mere stone’s throw from the border of Mexico, after all).

You ask around for Hector and find him at the end of the bar, drinking alone. He’s early forties at most, dark hair, tan skin mere shades lighter than yours. He has three shots down in front of him, and he’s working on picking up his fourth. Sam and Dean trail after you as you slide into the stool next to Hector.

“Señor Rivera,” you greet him in your native tongue and pull out your fabricated police badge. “Good evening.”

He glances at you, then your badge with furrowed brows.

“What do you want?” he asks in Spanish, just a hint slurring.

“I’m very sorry about your wife. I know you’ve already given your statement, but we’re looking further into the circumstances surrounding Nina’s death,” you explain.

He perks up at that, his brown eyes briefly lighting with something other than cold, hard grief.

“The doctors couldn’t explain it, he admits. “They couldn’t do a damn thing. I just don’t understand…”

He glares down at his hands, at the glass of liquor between them. He fights to control himself, but you can see it’s a losing battle. You rest a gentle hand on his arm, and when Hector meets your eyes, you know he’ll find genuine sympathy.

“I want to help you,” you tell him. “At the very least, I can look for a real explanation on what happened to Nina. Can you tell me what you know?”

A moment later, he pats your hand on his arm. And he tells you.

Dean watches from his spot behind you while he and Sam blend in, each drinking a beer. Dean admires how easily you connect with people. How genuine you are in wanting to help them.

He knows you’ve spent years in this job. Maybe not as long as him, but long enough to get jaded. You aren’t, and you care.

Dean thinks it’s part of the reason why you always answer when he calls. You’ve never said no to him, always been there when he and Sam need you. And that, he somehow feels guilty about.

Because what the fuck has he really ever done for you, other than put you in danger?

“Dean,” Sam says, nudging his side.

It brings Dean back to the present when he sees you’re getting up from the bar. Despite his inner conflict, he can’t help but notice the curve of your ample ass in those tight jeans. An enticing ratio of thick thighs to smaller waist, and generous cup size to match.

But when you turn around, it’s your sad smile that grabs his attention. You draw near, and Dean forces himself to stay relaxed when your warm hand rests on his forearm.

It’s a familiar, comfortable thing for you to be touchy. You’re an expressive person, always talking with your hands, full-body animated when you tell stories.

Sometimes you’ll grab his wrist playfully, or brush your hand along his back when you pass by. Or you’ll grab his shoulder to steady yourself, and lean into him when you’ve had too much to drink.

Dean likes it—all of it. In fact, he finds it endearing as hell.

But it’s also a problem. A unique kind of torture to keep himself in check around you…

Frankly, he doesn’t think you know what your touch does to him.

In fact, he knows you don’t, because while you’ve got your smooth, tan hand on his arm, you’re more looking at Sam when you say:

“I think I know what this is.”

“El Sombrerón,” you repeat yourself as you flip through a book on South American lore.

“Shouldn’t you be an expert on this already?” Dean teases as you rifle through the pages. “I thought Latin American legends were right up your alley.”

The three of you are back at their delightfully crap motel of the week. You and Sam sit at the two-seater table while Dean leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

You shoot him a wry glance. “I’m Cuban, not Guatemalan. Though apparently, El Sombrerón appears in Mexican mythology as well.”

Hector said that the night his wife went to the bar with her friends, her friend Jennine saw a man with a black jacket and a hat to match.

She said he flirted with Nina, a sweet but introverted soul. She turned him down, of course, but he tried to cajole her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and touch her cheek. That’s when Jennine stepped in and cursed the guy out, threatening to break his nose if he didn’t back off.

They didn’t see him again that night, but you suspect the damage had been done the moment he touched her…

“All right, so he’s a boogeyman of sorts,” Sam says, gesturing at the vivid illustration in the book he’s holding. You peer over at the page and nod.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the cautionary tale. A man dressed in black, wide-brimmed hat—”

“Like Zorro,” Dean supplies. You give him an amused grin.

“No, not like Zorro,” you reply. “Instead of being a fine-ass caped crusader with a voice deep and gritty as sin, El Sombrerón likes to lure women into the woods.”

Dean raises a brow at your description (Deep and gritty as sin, huh?), but you continue.

“Specifically, he’s got a fetish for long hair,” you recount. “Here it says El Sombrerón’s voice and touch are a curse, rendering his victims unable to eat or sleep. Eventually, they die.”

That falls between you all like hot lead. Until Sam voices the question you’re all thinking.

“So how do we find him?”

“For the record, I’m against this fucking idea,” Dean mutters to his brother. Once again, they’re patrons of La Cantina Libre, each nursing a beer.

“Yeah, you’ve made that known a few times now,” Sam replies in a low whisper. “She’ll be okay, Dean. We’re right here for her.”

They’re just on standby, watching you ignore flirtations from men with a coy smile. You leave a delicate ring of red lipstick on your straw while you nurse a Tequila Sunrise.

Dean subtly (to Sam, not so subtly) watches you. His elbow rests on the counter, chin in hand, hand over mouth, while his eyes roam down your simple black dress. Your ankles are crossed under the bar counter. The toe of your platform heel bouncing against the foot rail is the only thing telling Dean that you’re a bit nervous.

You’ve let your hair down on purpose, trying to entice the “Zorro” monster with the smooth waves running down your back.

On any other night, Dean might’ve enjoyed this place. He has a good beer in hand. There’s some live music tonight, in the form of a man playing a shiny silver guitar, crooning into the mic. You turn your head to watch for a moment, and Dean sees the way your gaze sharpens on the musician.

The man wears a black dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, tucked neatly into his dark wash jeans. His black hair is long and a little wild, almost brushing his shoulders. While he holds out a smooth note, he looks up and finds your gaze. His lips curve on a smile.

Your face heats up at the attention, but you find yourself captivated by those eyes. They’re intense, almost black under the stage lights. And as the musician’s song comes to a close, you feel a trill of something run down your spine when he sets down his silver guitar.

Then he makes his way toward you.

He settles into the free seat next to you and orders two tequila shots.

“I have a drink, thanks,” you say. The man only smiles.

“You’ve been holding onto that Sunrise for two hours,” he says. “I just thought you might like something stronger, before the sun actually comes up.”

Inside, you want to roll your eyes at the cheesy line.

Instead, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and his gaze is drawn to the motion. You notice it with mounting suspicion.

“Maybe I do,” you reply. “What’s your name?”

“Miguel,” he says, offering a charming smile. “And yours, amor?”

You consider him with flirtatious eyes and a tilt of your head. You’re fairly certain you have your target.

You lay a hand on his arm, over his jacket. You lean in close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Do you really need my name?” you ask in Spanish.

Miguel smirks when you lean back. He offers you his hand to help you off of your stool. Wary of actually touching his skin to yours, you try your best to be graceful and sensuous as you slide out of your seat and onto your heels without his help. You then walk out of the bar through the back without waiting for him to follow you (hoping that he does).

Your instincts are right, however. When you make it out of the bar, Miguel is indeed closing in behind you. You glance over your shoulder, offering a coy smile. But when you look ahead, you have to utter a gasp.

Miguel is suddenly there to grab you and pull you in by your waist.

“When will your friends be joining us?” he asks, trailing a finger down your cheek. It makes you shudder, but you pretend to be confused.

“Friends?”

“Dumb and dumber, watching you like a hawk,” he says, raising a brow. “Oh, mi amor. I know a pack of hunters when I see them.”

Sam and Dean watch the musician run back for his guitar, slipping it carefully in its case before he takes off after you.

“Get the guitar. Got a feeling about that thing,” Dean says to Sam. “I’ll follow ‘em.”

The moment Dean walks out the back of the bar, he stops short and draws his gun. His body tenses and his face falls into a glare when he sees Miguel holding you close (and against your will). But Miguel catches sight of Dean.

He forcefully turns you around and wraps an arm across your chest, pulling you back as you struggle.

“Good evening,” Miguel greets with a smirk. He nods at the full moon. “Beautiful night for a lover’s serenade.”

His voice alone is a threat, Dean knows. And by the way your eyes widen, so do you.

“Shut the fuck up, Mike,” Dean snarks. “Mind if I call you Mike?”

He raises his gun, but Miguel tsks at him. You grit your teeth as he pulls your hair back away from your cheek. His breath is hot an unpleasant in your ear, causing you to shudder.

“I do wish we had more time, amor,” he says, trailing a hand down your ass and thigh. “I like to play with my food.”

A hot lance of anger runs through Dean, but it runs even hotter through you, igniting your temper and making your patience run right the fuck out. You snap your head back and catch Miguel in the nose. He wrenches back with a pained cry.

You try to ignore the resulting ache in your head and reach for the silver knife in your thigh holster, beneath your dress. But Miguel grabs you by the hair. Suddenly his face has become grotesque, revealing its true form with a mouth filled with sharp, needle-like teeth.

You gasp as a trill of magic runs through your body from his touch. It paralyzes you as he wrenches your neck back and prepares to bite a chunk right out of your neck.

But Dean shoots a warning shot by the creature’s head, all-too close to yours as he approaches.

“Hey!” Sam calls out. He attracts everyone’s attention, even Miguel’s. Sam holds the silver guitar.

“This is what you use to play Pied Piper, right?” Sam asks. Miguel’s face hardens, but before he can do anything about it, Sam smashes the guitar to smithereens on the gravel road.

Miguel lets out an outraged hiss. While he’s distracted, Dean takes another shot that hits the creature in the shoulder. It gives you the opening you need to grab your knife and stab him in the leg.

Miguel cries out in pain, but before you can scramble away, he grabs your face. His sharpened nails bite into your skin, making you wince. You manage to kick out his knee. It forces him to release you, unless he wants to eat the ground hard.

Sam is there to catch you while Dean closes in. He shoots, the creature evades, grabbing Dean’s wrist and punching him across the face. The hunter goes down to the gravel with hands held out to brace himself. But he has a large knife on his belt that he retrieves next, only to be knocked out of his hand when Miguel bears on him.

He throws off Sam’s attempt to pull him off Dean, throwing him hard against the dumpster in the alley.

While Dean grapples bare-handed with the monster, trying his best to evade gnashing teeth in his face, you find his discarded knife and bury it deep into Miguel’s back.

He howls with pain and tries to throw you off. He manages to backhand you in the face and shove you away. You nearly roll an ankle on the small rocks rolling under your heels, and you end up on your back with the wind knocked out of you.

But Dean’s able to kick Miguel off and finish what you started. Dean pins the man on the ground and twists the knife deeper. And he doesn’t let go until the creature below him stops twitching.

Dean takes in deep breaths to account for the way adrenaline has set his blood pumping. He still sits on the ground with the body next to him. But then, he finds you kneeling next to him in your now dusty dress. Your eyes are worried when you grasp his shoulder and lay another hand lightly on his scuffed knee.

Dean reaches for you on reflex, grabbing your arm. Both of you manage to ask your burning questions at the same time—

“You okay?”

“Are you all right?”

You crack first with a giggle. Dean quirks a grin and thumbs at your cheek.

“Yeah, all good,” he says.

Your relieved smile reaches your eyes, and it warms him. “Good.”

Behind you both, Sam hides his own knowing smile.

Sam and Dean invite you to stay over at the bunker after the hunt, instead of making the even longer drive home. You’re too exhausted to say no.

By the time you get to the bunker, you’re dead on your feet, practically swaying down the stairs.

“I’m so fuckin’ tiiiired…”

“Come on, stop whining,” Dean teases as he helps you down. Sam has dropped your duffel bag on the ground floor and gone on ahead to shower, leaving you and Dean to figure this out.

“Why don’t you just take off the heels?” he wryly suggests.

“Hell no,” you refuse with a stubborn shake of your head.

You don’t want to contemplate how much monster guts have glossed the stairs of this bunker, via the brothers’ boots.

Maybe it’s a silly reason to suffer, but is it really suffering if you have Dean Winchester escorting you with both hands down the stairs?

His hands are warm and you trust the strength of his hold, but when your heel wobbles on the edge of a step, you still go for the railing rather than sink all your weight on Dean. He laughs at you, and you maturely stick out a tongue at him.

“At this point, it’d be faster if I freakin’ carried you,” Dean remarks. He reaches for you, but you stop him with a heel in his sternum.

“Eh-eh! Don’t even try,” you laugh. “I totally got this.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but you lower your heeled foot and manage to climb down the last few steps of the rickety staircase…at least, what your exhausted brain thinks is the last one.

You almost go ass over tea kettle when you miss the final stair with a yelp—but Dean is there to catch you.

His arms are like steel bands around your frame, curving around your lower back and pulling you flush against his chest. You gasp and cling to his arms. When you look up at him with wide eyes, you find his amused face…and maybe something else in his eyes. He tilts his head down at you.

“Well, well. Look who keeps falling for me?” he remarks.

You blush at the flirtatious edge of his tone. The gleam in his green eyes; you take it for amusement only, not realizing that he’s barely resisting the urge to claim your lips.

“Right,” you laugh him off with a pat on his chest. “When was the first time again?”

You make sure your heels are firmly on the ground before you push away from Dean. As you thought, he doesn’t try to keep you. He still looks amused as he lets you go.

He flirts with anything, you remind yourself, when disappointment starts to carve a hole in your heart. Don’t take it so seriously.

You say goodnight before you take up your duffel bag and go to find a free bedroom (and a hot shower). All the while, you bite your lip against a deep-seated feeling of uncertainty.

Dean watches you go, and you don’t see the way his mask of a smile fades into a frown.

After a nice hot shower and changing into your pajamas, that moment with Dean has unsettled you enough that you're not quite ready to go to sleep. Maybe you’re in the mood for a midnight snack.

You take out a couple of supplies from your bag and head over to the kitchen. There you set up your little cafetera coffee press with water, and a generous few tablespoons of Café Bustelo grounds of espresso. While that brews on the stove, you make some popcorn in the microwave.

You don’t realize that the rich smell reaches Dean all the way in his room. He sniffs the air in interest, then in confusion.

She’s making coffee at midnight?

He gets up out of bed and pads down to the kitchen where you’ve taken over. A large bowl of popcorn is ready and waiting for him to snatch a handful, while you’re checking the little metal carafe you have going on the stove.

“What’cha up to, sweetheart?” he asks. You greet him with a smile.

“Café con leche,” you reply.

Coffee with milk, he mentally translates. That much, he can work out.

“You drink coffee at this time of night?” he asks.

“My people invented it. I’ve been inoculated to this stuff since I was eight years old,” you quip. “Want some? Believe me, you’ll love it.”

He shrugs. “Sure. But if I end up too wired to fucking sleep, be prepared to suffer with me.”

You laugh. “I’m sure we’ll figure out something to do.”

Dean’s not sure if you meant that as flirtatious as it sounded. But by your briefly widening eyes and blushing cheeks, maybe you just realized it. He smirks and draws closer while you break out two mugs from the cabinet.

He notices your chosen pajamas with secret appreciation (a large threadbare Journey shirt over spandex shorts). You fill the little shorts out well.

Though Dean spots several small holes in the shirt. He teasingly sticks his finger through one in your short sleeve.

“Lose a fight with a pair of scissors?” he jokes.

You shoot him an amused glance over your shoulder.

“You are the reigning king of dad jokes. I’ll have you know, this is my lucky shirt.”

He snorts in response. “What makes it lucky?”

You just bite your lip and focus back on your task at hand. With the coffee done percolating, you measure out two steaming shots of espresso into each mug.

“Hey, you brought it up,” Dean reminds you.

You sigh, and after you pour in the sugar and the evaporated milk into each mug, you turn around and lean against the counter.

“I’ve never had a bad dream while wearing this shirt to bed,” you confess. His teasing gentles at that.

When you turn back around to put the finishing touches on what you’re doing, Dean’s expression becomes more fond as he watches you.

You then offer him his Batman mug with a brighter smile.

“Buen provecho,” you say.

“What does that mean?” he asks predictably, taking the mug from you.

“Enjoy! Like bon appetite, basically.”

“Ah,” he raises his brows before he takes a sip. Then they raise even higher as he hums in pleasure. “Ooh, it’s sweet…and strong. Shit.”

“Very,” you say with a chuckle, taking your own sip. You make a sound of delight, complete with a little “happy dance” shimmy. “Almost as good as my grandma makes it.”

Dean smiles in amusement at your antics. The two of you sit at the kitchen island, where there are three stools and the bowl of popcorn. The salty snack is just the right balance for the sweet coffee.

“She taught you how to make this?” he asks.

You nod. “Yep! She’s an amazing cook too. Learned everything I know from her.”

“Hmm, might need to sample something of yours sometime,” Dean says, peering at you over his mug. His tone is deceptively light, but you read the double meaning in his eyes.

You hide the way your mouth falls open behind your own mug. Instead of answering, you nod and take a delicate sip. Your gaze veers away from his as you blush.

He’s in a good mood tonight, you think in bemusement.

“So tell me. What are the best curse words in Spanish?” Dean asks.

You have to laugh. Your head ducks as you reach for his arm. His eyes briefly go to your hand, and he smirks.

“Of course that’s the first thing you want to know,” you tease. You take back your hand and think about his question. “Hmm…I mean, there are the basics. Coño, carajo. Like 'damn it,' 'fucking hell,' and so forth.”

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Dean says.

“Well, yeah,” you say with a grin. “Comemierda is a Cuban fan favorite.”

“Which means?”

“Literally? Someone who eats shit,” you laugh. “A stupid asshole, basically.”

Dean’s grin deepens. “Nice.”

“The best one of all time is probably…ugh, my mom would wash my mouth out with soap for even saying it.” You cover your face with both hands, but Dean nudges your elbow.

“Come on, give it to me,” he teases. You peek out at him from between your hands. Then you stage whisper to him.

“Hijo de la gran puta,” you say. It rolls off your tongue in such a way that, even though Dean knows it’s vulgar in some way, the ease in which you say it raises the hairs on his arms.

“I like that,” he says.

You giggle at him. “You don’t even know what the fuck it means.”

“Don’t matter. I just like how it sounds,” he says. “Gimme the Google Translate.”

You shoot him a narrowed look for that one. “It means son of the grand whore. Literally, the chiefest of them all. The grand poohbah of whores.”

Dean splutters with laughter. His hand slaps the table, and you shush him, reminding him that Sam is probably sleeping by now.

“It’s literally one of the worst things you can say to somebody,” you say, though you’re also choking on laughter. By the end of it, you and Dean are chortling like fools and getting high on espresso and sugar.

You teach him how to roll his r’s, and at his request, more slang. You explain how certain Hispanics and Latino cultures use different words for the same thing (at times, very confusing), and how something innocent to an American, like a papaya fruit, means something very different for Cubans.

For Dean’s part, he’s genuinely interested in what you have to teach him. But he also just likes hearing you speak the language. It rolls off your tongue gracefully, effortless and sensuous without you meaning to. He likes it enough that he tells you his honest thoughts.

“It all sounds incredibly hot, I’m not gonna lie,” he says with a chuckle. You blush at that, something he finds endearing.

“You sound like my ex,” you say in amusement. “He only went out with me to help him with his Spanish.”

Dean sobers a bit at that. “What?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle dryly. “He was trying to land some job as a strip club bouncer, but we were in Miami at the time. They needed someone bilingual.”

Dean doesn’t like the resigned tone of your voice.

“Yeah well, the bouncer?” he remarks, trying for a teasing bump of his hand against yours. “Come on. You should at least be aiming for the owner.”

You flash him a brief smile and nod. “Ah, so I set my sights too low. Got it.”

It’s then that Dean starts to wonder about the kinds of guys you’ve gotten with in the past. Not that he has room to judge, but he can see that there was no love lost there for you.

Dean has a thought, deep in his bones, that you deserve someone who sees how special you are. How kind, funny, loyal, caring…

“Seriously,” Dean says. “You can do better.”

“Right,” you laugh. But he’s not laughing. You raise a brow at him.

“What?” you ask.

His lips purse, but he thinks better of what he wants to say.

“Nothing. ‘S none of my business,” he says.

You stare back at him and frown thoughtfully. You think you’re lucky to get a date, the way you constantly move around.

You don’t have stability, and even though you try to keep in shape, try to avoid the shittier fast food, it’s been a challenge to maintain yourself. You worry that you’ve gained five pounds in diner food alone in the past couple of months…

Okay, mostly, you’re happy with your curves. But the way Dean’s looking at you now, you can’t help a flutter of hope that rises in your chest, making your heart beat faster.

Maybe you’re finally ready to know how he really sees you.

“Talk to me, Dean,” you nod, and you reach out a hand to grasp his wrist.

He looks down at your hand. After a moment, he sighs and lays his own over yours. He meets your gaze.

“Look, I think I hear what you’re not saying,” Dean says. “And you’re sellin’ yourself short, sweetheart. That’s all.”

It takes you a moment, but a soft smile spreads across your face. It warms him in a way he doesn’t expect, but maybe he should.

Biting your lip with a bit of embarrassment, you squeeze his hand before you get up to take the two empty mugs with you to the sink.

“Que hombre tan pendejo, hermoso,” you mutter. “Ni siquiera sabes lo que me haces.”

You don’t realize that Dean actually hears you. He perks up, standing from his seat and approaching you from behind.

“What was that?” he asks.

You jump slightly, and a blush burns down your neck as you turn off the sink and spin back around. Dean is there, crossing his arms and staring you down with a raised brow. A hint of a smirk begins to edge around his mouth.

“What?” you ask.

“Oh, no. You said something just now,” he says. Like a dog with a bone, he’s not going to let this one go.

Your lips threaten to smile, but you shake your head stubbornly. “You’ll just have to invest in that Duolingo subscription.”

Dean joins you by the sink. His hand braces on the kitchen counter.

“Well, either you’re insulting me, or you’re flirting with me,” Dean says.

His lips then edge into a smirk. “The first one I could forgive, but the second…might require some retribution.”

Your eyes slowly widen. “What, why?”

Dean has to chuckle, because your expression is all but an admission of guilt. It’s too damn adorable.

“Because you can’t flirt with me without me knowin’ about it,” he says. “That’s just rude.”

His hands brace the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. The only way to get through him is to tell him the truth, or suffer the consequences.

You gaze up at him with wide eyes and a full flush across your tan skin. Is he actually doing this right now?

Your heart beats loud in your ears like conga drums.

“So which is it, sweetheart?” Dean asks. His playful, but singularly focused green-eyed gaze tells you he really does want an answer.

“Well, it was kinda both,” you say with a shy, but mischievous smile. Dean’s smirk deepens.

He tucks a finger beneath your chin and lets his thumb brush your full lower lip…

Then he leans down to kiss you thoroughly. His plush lips move over yours, hot, wet, and sinfully good.

But it’s also short—much too short for your liking when he parts from you to gauge your reaction. He seems to like what he finds in your eyes.

“Was that the punishment?” you tease. “Kinda weak.”

Dean raises a brow. “Consider it a start.”

He pulls you into him by your waist and continues where he left off, with another searing kiss. You hum with pleasure against his lips as your fingers delve into his hair.

His hands move down your back, making a shiver of delight coarse through you. They land on cradling your ass, squeezing and pressing you into him.

You gasp into his mouth. You can feel his length already hard against you. That alone trills anticipation down your spine, and a dizzy feeling, the fact that your touch is turning him on. You nip at his lower lip in response, licking into his mouth. It elicits a sound deep in his throat as his touch becomes more demanding.

He then bends down to reach behind your thighs, and before you know what’s happening, you squeal when he lifts you up on the counter.

You grab his shoulders like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

Damn, he’s strong!

“What’s the matter?” he laughs.

“I’m just not used to being manhandled,” you quip. “These hips don’t lie, but they definitely don’t fly.”

Dean snorts. “Says who?”

“My ex, for one thing,” you joke again. Though it isn’t actually a joke.

Dean, again, isn’t laughing.

His hands aren’t large enough to span your thighs, but it’s not for lack of trying. His firm touch burning up your parted thighs are distracting, warm over your skin, and over your thin shorts. His thumbs dip between your inner thighs, making you breathe a bit more shallowly.

“I get the feeling that you’ve been with some ain’t shit guys,” Dean says. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lump me in with the rest of ‘em.”

Your eyes widen. Dean grins down at you and takes the opportunity to kiss you again. His hand disappears in your hair and he presses kisses down your neck. A pleasant tingle breaks out across your skin as you tilt your head for him, giving him access.

Your fingers begin toying with his collar and glide down his chest. Unlike you, everything about him is firm, you think. But you start to think that he likes your softness, the thickness of your curves.

You didn’t take him for an ass man, but he seems very happy to get a fistful of it. It’s as flattering as it is arousing.

“I’ve wanted to get this perfect ass in my hands since the day we met,” he says. His voice is deep, full of grit and desire, but what he says next surprises you even more.

“Wanted to ask you out that night,” he confesses.

You pause at that. You met Sam and Dean two years ago already. The fact that he’d wanted to ask you out was one thing, but he’d been holding onto this for two years?

“Really?” you ask.

Dean reads your incredulity, huffing a laugh. “You’re really finding that hard to believe right now?”

He rocks against your clothed core so you can feel his reaction to you. You instinctively gasp and hold onto him. You slide your arms around his back to keep him close, even though you’re blushing. He holds you back, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Well, why didn’t you then?” you ask. But he hesitates to answer you.

“Dean?” you press.

“It…never seemed the right time,” he says. “And to be honest, you didn’t seem all that interested.”

Until now, goes unspoken. But you frown up at him.

“You don’t really believe that,” you say.

Dean leans back a bit, so you move your hands to his chest, gripping the fabric of his undershirt to he doesn’t go too far. He looks down at you, a bit uncertain for the first time. You can’t believe that he could possibly be insecure about your interest and affections.

“I attract a lot of crap in my life,” he admits. “Shit you want no part of.”

You soften further at that. Someone who was just going to hook up with you once and never call you again didn’t consider things like that. You grab onto the lapels of his plaid shirt and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Well, that’s a stupid reason,” you say. Is this the real reason he only calls you when he really needs the help?

Maybe it’s his convoluted way of protecting you…while maybe, still wanting to see you.

“It’s really not,” Dean shakes his head. “Truth be told…I’m no good for you either.”

That disheartens you.

You’re in this job too. And while you know that Sam and Dean are often at the center of a lot of Apocalypse-level shit, you still don’t think it’s an excuse to keep both you and Dean from possibly…being happy.

His gaze is steady, until it starts to lower away from you. You take his face in your hands, picking him back up to meet your eyes. Your thumbs caress the prickly stubble along his cheeks.

“Apparently I get with a lot of ain’t shit guys,” you reply, “but you’re definitely not one of them, Dean.”

He flickers at a smile, but he still isn’t convinced you two should do this after all.

So it’s up to you, you realize.

You bring him down to you for a kiss. It’s slow at first. You ply him with short, sweet presses of your lips to his. But then you both inhale as you deepen the kiss, tilting your head and prying his lips with your tongue. He can’t help but welcome you in, and he takes you back into his arms.

You smile against his lips, letting your hands run down his chest and under the top layer of plaid. He shrugs out of it, then the undershirt as you help him tug it up. It falls in a heap on the floor, followed closely by your hole-ridden Journey shirt, then your little shorts.

Dean takes in the sight of your flushed skin, the rise and fall of your breasts, and even the hesitant downturn of your lips. You’re a bit self-conscious, bared for him for the first time, but he doesn’t give you a reason to have any reservations.

His hands cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading, rolling his thumbs over the hardening buds. You let out a shaky breath against his lips, and you veer away from his mouth to burn a hot, wet trail down his neck. His voice rumbles, and you smile, nipping playfully and touching him wherever you see fit.

“Tell me what you said before,” he rasps into your ear.

You remain playfully tight-lipped as you continue to shower his bare skin with affection. But your breath hitches when a hand leaves your breast to once again slide up the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” he says. “That’s why I need you tell me…”

You lean close to his ear and whisper. “Nope.”

Dean’s chuckle shakes his frame. His other hand cups your cheek, slipping into your hair. You hold him to you, and for the first time it’s skin to skin, with your breasts pressing against his chest.

“All right…you sure I can’t convince you?” he asks. There’s a note of warning that you’re just a bit too slow to detect.

His fingers swiftly bypass your panties, pushing them aside so he can tease the seam of your pussy.

You bite your lip and lean back enough to see his face, to see the mischievous edge of his smirk. You inhale sharply when two of his fingers slip in and probe in your wet heat, but don’t go further than your entrance.

“Dean,” you whine. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he insists, “what you said.”

His lips graze your cheek, down the column of your neck. You feel the rasp of his stubble against your skin. Meanwhile, your pussy is pulsing with need, all but chasing his fingers that do no more than brush and tease. Your nails accidently bite into his shoulders in frustration.

He sucks in a pained breath. You gasp and apologize, soothing over his skin.

Dean just laughs and noses along your throat. He knows exactly what you need, but he wants to win the game.

At this point, you just want him.

So finally, you admit it. You confess into his ear the things you whispered in your mother tongue.

“I said, you dumb, beautiful man,” you say, smiling with your cheek pressed against his. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Dean grins into your neck. You really don’t realize it. But to him, your voice is rich as black velvet, and sexy as hell. Doesn’t matter what language you’re speaking.

Two of his fingers sink deeply into your pussy. You whimper, squeezing gratefully around his hand.

“Please, Dean…”

“I got you, baby. Just relax,” he says with a grin.

He explores your inner channel and begins to discover what you respond to, what angles make you grip onto him tighter, make your voice keen higher, especially when his thumb circles over your clit.

You cling to him for dear life, gripping his hair, uttering encouragements (not all of them in English), and finally praises when that hot coil within you snaps and releases.

Dean holds you while you come over his hand. You’re squeezing the shit out of him, really, in every way possible. But when that dam breaks, all you can do is lean against him and try to catch your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he chuckles. He rubs your back, pets your hair.

“I’m…” you trail. You lean back and take his smug face in your hands, and you kiss him. You put into that gesture what your voice fails to confess.

And when both of you run out of breath, Dean pulls back just enough to see your eyes.

“We’re not done, by any damn means,” he says. That coffee still has him wired. And at this point, his cock is throbbing with need. “But let’s head over to my room.”

“Yeah, I think I need to help you with this before you implode,” you tease him with a gentle hand along his rock-hard length. He utters a strained sound that makes you sympathetic.

But before anything else, you caress his cheek fondly. Tonight matters to you, and you think it matters to him too. Dean flashes you a rare, boyish grin that has you smiling even harder.

Damn it. You might just love this man.

He helps you down from the counter, though his arms stay wrapped around you because of your jelly legs. His resolution is to pick you up over his shoulder.

“Let’s fly, baby!” With a swift spank of your ass, he carries you the rest of the way to his room. You squeal and try to stifle your giggles all the way there.

One thing’s for sure. Sam is going to hate you both in the morning.

AN: 😂 Well, that was fun! Please let me know what you thought.

**Just to preface, I am in fact a plus-sized Latina (Cuban, Puerto Rican and Dominican)! 🌶️🌶️

And I just want to say, I wrote a specific plus-sized body type here, but we're all different and equally beautiful in our shapes, skin tones, and otherwise outward trappings.

I like to think of us as a box of lovely assorted chocolates (not the cheap factory-made bullshit either. The chocolatier, handmade assortments that cost an arm and a leg, shipping not included).

Each delectable and unique, with something extra special inside. 😘

Keep Reading:

Yes, this has become a series! Next up is "Devour Me":

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for.

▶️ Next Story: Devour Me (Part 1)

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Tag List:

@sleepyqueerenergy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @skyesthebomb @mimaria420 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @teehxk @hobby27 @luvs4dria

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mmushinroom · 2 months

Text

A short college AU:

Senior and sophomore students SQQ, LQG, SQH, WQW, MQF, MBJ and LBH went skinny dipping in CQ university’s Dean quarter designated pool. In night. Without permission. When the security arrived shouting and blowing their whistles, these idiots ran naked grabbing whatever article of clothing that were in reach and made a dash to the dorms. It was that stupid SQH’s idea!! For fucks sake!

Next day the security identified the culprits from the database, with the use of CCTV footage, and they were summoned to Dean YQY’s office. Only one was missing! Who you may ask, it was that bloody rat man!!

Everyone was reprimanded but since it was SQH’s birthday they did not reveal his identity and bore the punishments themselves.

Now you may ask, how the hell did the most strategic person and the rest got caught but the main instigator managed to escape?

Well…

That night…

Security: “YOU UNSCRUPULOUS BRATS! STOP THIS INSTANCE!!!

everyone except SQH: *ran covering their itty bitty dongs*

SQH: *running away covering his?…

FACE!

*his airplane waving up and down while he ran through the corridors*

Everyone else: “….…”

Security: “……..”

CCTV manager: “………..”

MBJ: “….Daaayum!” *horny gripping*

Smartass Hamster-man 🐹

#svsss #mxtx svsss #shang qinghua #moshang #lbh #sqq #cangqiong #airplane shooting towards the sky

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rizlowwritessortof · 8 months

Text

Worth It

This was written for @stusbunker Stu's Sinema Challenge. My Deadly Sin was Envy, quote is in bold in the fic.

Of course Dean doesn't mind if you go hang out with some guy you knew in your civilian life. You know, the kind of life he never had. It's fine.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: Smut, Oral (male & female receiving), swearing - you know, the usual 😊

The air is thick with the smell of sweat, blood and death. You, Sam and Dean are back to back to back in the middle of the room, most of the nest lying scattered around you. Dean lunges forward and slices another vamp across the chest, then swings his machete in a hard downward stroke, taking the monster’s head and sending it rolling across the floor.

He turns as you take on the last one standing. The furious creature hisses, running at you, and Dean watches in admiration as you whirl and slash in a graceful, macabre dance of blade and blood, sending the undead thing to Purgatory. “Fuck me, nice move,” he says, and you turn, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek.

“Thanks!” you answer with a bright smile. Dean’s stare is like a physical touch, and your smile slowly fades, something primitive crackling in the air between you. Then Sam speaks and the spell is broken.

“You got the last one, I guess Dean’s buying!” he laughs, and Dean huffs as he turns to wipe the blade of his machete on a bale of hay.

“I don’t know why I bet with you,” he grumbles, and you laugh.

“Hey, it was your idea, champ.” You grin even wider at his grumpiness, digging a little more. “I’m feeling really thirsty, too.”

His lips twitch as he smothers a smile, reluctant to give in that easily. “Yeah, yeah. I pay my bets. Let’s burn this dump and get outta here. I could use a beer or six myself.”

You hit your room almost running, anxious to get showered and hit the bar, conveniently located right across the two-lane highway from your motel. You feel alive, a buzzing just beneath your skin - adrenaline and something else, something that’s making you feel a little reckless. You push down the memory of Dean’s expression back in the barn, staring at you like he was just as hungry as those vamps. That’s something you don’t allow yourself to think about, so you focus on the night ahead, hoping there will be some pretty local boy in that place who’s in the mood to get lucky. And who hopefully has the skills to make you get lucky.

The three of you walk into the local dive together, eyes adjusting quickly to the dim, cloudy lighting. Dean heads to the bar to grab some beers as you and Sam stake out a table, waiting for the night’s benefactor to return with the reward for your victory.

He’s smiling as he arrives, handing you an icy longneck with an exaggerated bow and holding his out as you all toast together. “Hate to admit it, but that last move of yours – you deserved to win. This time.”

“Awwww… thanks, you big teddy bear, you.”

“All right, all right,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling and you know he likes it when you call him sweet names, even if he’d never admit it.

Sam is staring towards the bar, and you turn to look. “Oh, Sammy – bartender’s kinda cute, and she’s looking at you!” you tease, and he blushes a little, his dimples flashing as he shakes his head with a grin.

“Shut up, half-pint.”

“Want me to introduce you?” Dean jabs at his brother, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“No. Both of you, get drunk and stupid and do what you do, I can take care of my own shit.” He grabs his beer and heads for the bar, taking a seat and striking up a conversation with the cute brunette.

“Kind of dead in here. Wanna shoot some pool? Maybe you can win something tonight!” You head for the back of the room, Dean following you with a smirk.

“Gloat away, smartass – I’d love to teach you a lesson.”

The two of you play a couple of games, exchanging snarky comments and sexual innuendos as usual accompanied by laughter and more beer. Around 9 pm a small group of guys walk in, and you glance up, followed by an ‘Oh, my god… I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Dean asked, taking his shot, standing when he finishes to look towards where your stare is aimed.

“I know those guys. Well, a couple of them.”

“Oh, yeah – you grew up around here somewhere, didn’t you?”

“I went to high school a couple of towns over. Still, never thought I’d see anybody I knew. I’m gonna go over and say hi. You don’t mind, do you?”

Dean shrugs, shaking his head, turning his attention back to the pool table, one eye on you as you approach the group of twenty-somethings. Of course he doesn’t mind, why should he mind? That self-destructive, uncomfortable feeling is kicking up in his gut, the one that whispers that he doesn’t fit in, that he’s a freak who will never have anything those kind of people have and take for granted. He’s lived with it for years, every time Dad moved him and Sam to a new town, a new school. The armor he’s always worn - the snarky, smart-ass attitude, the I-don’t-give-a-shit bad boy persona – that was its origin, developed and thickened like a scar to keep that fucking feeling from overwhelming him. It’s never so bad when he has backup, which is usually you and Sam, but Sam is busy flirting with the bartender and now you’re talking and laughing with the locals. Guys who got to grow up like normal kids, go to high school, take girls out to movies and proms, have family dinners and vacations. And what makes it all worse is that he tells himself, tells Sam, that the kind of life people like that live would drive him crazy – but the truth is, deep down, that’s what he’s always wished for.

Dean watches as Sam catches his eye with a little wave. He’s on his way out with that cute little brunette, and Dean nods in reply. Guess he’ll be sleeping in the car tonight. He thinks about finishing his beer and leaving, too – instead of watching you flirt and laugh with the normals, probably hook up with one. He thinks about taking Baby and going for a drive, parking out in the country somewhere to sleep so he doesn’t have to see who you bring back to your room with you.

Where the hell did that come from? Not like the two of you have ever even thought about hooking up. Ok, that’s a fucking lie, he thinks about it all the time – just has never allowed himself to actually make a move. Besides, he knows how it would end up. Like things always end up for him. But tonight, watching you with those guys – it’s hitting harder than usual.

The sound of your laughter makes him clench his teeth, and he clears the pool table with a series of forceful shots, one right after the other. An older man comes strolling over to challenge him, and Dean accepts, telling him to rack ‘em up as he grabs another drink. He does a shot of whiskey before taking his beer back to the table. Ok, might as well make a little money, pay for the drinks and maybe make a little gas money. It has nothing to do with keeping an eye on you. He ignores the voice inside him that tells him he’s full of shit.

You’re really enjoying yourself, laughing and talking, reminiscing about high school (which is the last time you saw these guys). Kurt, the one you really remember, is looking good, and apparently the feeling is mutual – he keeps touching you, hand on your shoulder, brushing your hair back, occasionally slipping an arm around your waist. You actually dated him a few times, and you’ve had enough beer and tequila shooters that your edges are softening and your walls are a little wobbly. After all, you were kind of looking to blow off some steam tonight, right?

You glance over at Dean when a little pang of guilt digs at you, but he’s focused on beating some guy at a game of pool, so you push it down and turn back to Kurt. His two buddies are restless, no other prospects for them to focus on. They all head for the bathroom in the back, and you order another beer, letting your eyes wander back towards Dean. He’s heading that direction, too, so you lean back on the bar and nurse your drink. Just want enough to keep the buzz going, keep that pleasant, blurry, happy glow.

You watch Dean come back into the bar, his face stormy. He doesn’t even glance your direction, and you wonder what’s going on with him. He’s probably pissed that you ditched him for some local dude, but you’re allowed to have some fun, right? I mean, you guys can hang out anytime.

Kurt comes back, his buddies vaguely mumbling ‘nice to see you’ and ‘catch you later’ as they head out for greener pastures. Kurt’s staying, so you smile, and he leans in to kiss you as he waits for his beer. It’s nice, not earth-shattering, but beggars can’t be choosers, and you’re to the point of settling in for the night. He’s cute, and he’s obviously interested, and it’s better than the vibrator in your bag at the motel, right? You tell him you’re heading for the little girls’ room, and he kisses you again, letting his hand roam a little, down over your hip, a little squeeze. You leave him with a little smirk, walking to the back hall and into the bathroom.

You wash up, check your hair, decide you don’t look bad for being half wasted, and head out. Dean is standing there, one shoulder propped against the wall by the door. “You know he’s a piece of shit, right?”

You roll your eyes. “You always think any guy I’m with is a piece of shit, Dean.”

He has his mouth held all tight, those little dimples above the corners of his mouth prominent. “Yeah, well, he really is. You didn’t hear him in the bathroom before telling his douchebag friends how he was gonna be balls deep inside you by midnight.”

You glare back at him, instantly pissed off. At Kurt, for being that guy, and at Dean for pointing it out. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s right where I want him.”

Before you can blink, your back is against the wall and Dean’s lips are crushed to yours, his hands gripping your arms hard enough to leave bruises. Your body betrays you, your brain shuts down, and for a few seconds you respond to his touch, the feel of his hard body pressing you into the wall, his lips at once soft and demanding. When you breathe again, your temper flares and you shove him hard, forcing him a step back as your eyes fire lasers at him. “What the fuck, Dean?”

“He doesn’t even know you. He has no idea what you’ve been through, who you are now. He doesn’t deserve to be with you.”

You are even more pissed off when you feel tears stinging your eyes. “First of all, not planning to marry him and have his children. Second of all – none of your goddamn business.” You turn on your heel and leave him standing there, heading out to the bar, reaching for your beer and draining it in one go. You order another, ignoring Kurt’s questions about what’s wrong. “I’m fine. Where were we?” you say, refusing to watch as Dean drops a wad of bills on the bar to pay the tab and stalks towards the door, which closes with a slam as he leaves.

Kurt tries valiantly to get your mood back to where it was before you left the room, you’ll give him an A for effort. But you finally have enough and turn to face him with a tight smile. “Sorry, Kurt, I’m gonna have to take off. Great to see you again.”

“Awww, don’t go. I was hoping…”

“To be balls deep inside me by midnight? Yeah, I heard.” You pat your hand firmly against his chest. “It’s okay, I’m sure you’re more than capable of taking care of that little problem yourself. You’ve probably had a lot of practice. See ya.” You head for the door and don’t look back to see the look on his face, but you can imagine it clearly. You smother a smile as you leave the bar, but it completely fades when you look across the way and see Dean leaning against the Impala, his head tipped back as he drinks from his flask.

“Oh, well – fuck it,” you mutter, squaring your shoulders and striding across the asphalt to reach the parking lot. Dean looks up as your boots crunch in the gravel, then looks back down, avoiding your eyes.

“Where’s the used-to-be frat boy,” he asks as you stop in front of him.

“Licking his wounds, I imagine.” He looks up, wanting to ask, but keeps his mouth clamped shut. “Come on, we need to talk,” you say as you walk to the door of your room and unlock it.

“About what?”

You turn and glare at him. “Just get your ass in here. Please.”

The frown on his brow would intimidate most people, but you’re used to it. He finally scuffs his feet around a little and reluctantly trudges towards you, shouldering his way through the door and crossing the room. He leans against the wall near the bathroom door, arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed, those dimples showing the level of his displeasure.

You close the door and lock it, tossing the key card onto the table as you approach him and stop directly in front of him, staring into his defiant eyes. “Well, go ahead. Tear me a new one,” he bites out.

Instead, you step closer, place your palm against his chest and lean up, your head tilting a little to the side as your lips land on his, nibbling and nipping at that tempting bottom lip. You feel his chest tense up, and you draw back a little, meeting his wary gaze. “What… uh… are you doing?”

“You started this… you will forgive me if I finish it,” you manage, your voice raspy with restrained want as you kiss him again. His arms drop to his sides, and for a second or two he is still, as if he’s afraid to move, afraid he’ll make you shy away. When your tongue teases at his lips, he moves so suddenly that your heart trips up in your chest. He scoops you up, hands behind your thighs, perching you at his waist as he turns to hold you against the wall and return your kiss with a quiet desperation that makes you clutch him tight, your arms around his neck.

He kisses you like it’s what keeps him alive, savoring you, every glide of his tongue against yours a languid, thoughtful caress, and his lips are pure heaven, just like you’ve imagined a hundred times. His fingers are kneading rhythmically at your waist, his hips rocking into you slightly, and you adjust your position so his growing erection is hitting just the right spot, forcing a low moan from you both.

You break apart for a moment, both of you panting for air, and he buries his face in your neck, your name a rough whisper in your ear as he nibbles at your soft skin. You buck against him, your need a raging fire, your voice a desperate whine. “Dean, need you…”

“You got me,” he rumbles, kissing you again, fierce and ravenous, then turning to let your feet slide to the floor. You shove impatiently at his t-shirt, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a little smirk as he complies, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor. He reaches for yours, watching your face as he begins to lift it, waiting for your eyes to tell him to continue before he pulls it off. His eyes are hungry as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall before reaching for him, your breasts crushed to his warm chest as your lips crash together again.

You finally push back, your eyes drifting shut for a moment as he brushes his fingers across your nipple. You reach for his jeans, opening the zipper and looking up at him as his jaw tics, his teeth clenched as you touch his heated skin. “Better get those boots off, yeah?” you smile, and he grins.

You both sit on the end of the bed, boots and socks flung out of the way, and before you can stand back up, he pushes you back on the bed and opens your jeans, tugging them down and bending to kiss your belly button, making you giggle. He works them down your legs, then goes after your panties, his tongue darting out over his lips as he finishes removing the last barrier. Your eyes are riveted to the bulge in his boxer briefs, his jeans barely hanging on to his hips, and you literally feel your mouth water and your pussy clench.

He drops to his knees and kisses his way slowly up the length of your legs, finally reaching the apex and dropping a gentle kiss to your mound. “Can I?” he asks, and you hear the want in his voice. You nod with a little whine, your head dropping back as he nuzzles his face between your thighs, rubbing his nose over your clit. The first sweep of his tongue through your folds punches a moan from your throat, and he responds, sending a delicious vibration over your sensitive flesh. He’s nudging and nibbling, driving you insane, finally spearing his tongue deep inside you as he moans again at your flavor.

He explores you thoroughly until you’re squirming beneath the onslaught, and you gasp as he slides a pair of those thick, calloused fingers inside you, stroking, curling. You’re on the edge already, and when he moves up to suck your clit into the warmth of his mouth, you buck up into him and come.

“Fuck, Deeean!” He keeps you at the peak of pleasure until you are begging him to stop, and he finally backs off, gently cleaning you with wide swipes of his tongue. He rubs a hand over his face, looking very satisfied with himself as he begins to stand, and you glare at him playfully, breathing hard. “Pants off, mister, and get your perky ass up here.”

“Perky? Really?” he says a little sarcastically, but he’s smiling.

“It is perky, and I want to see it naked.” He complies, an extra little wiggle as he finishes, and you laugh. “Get up here, Magic Mike.” You’ve moved yourself up to lie on the pillows, your breath catching in your throat for a second as he turns to walk towards the bed. Your imagination doesn’t hold a candle to the reality, and you take a breathless moment to appreciate him as he approaches, his cock proud and bobbing slightly as he moves. “Wait – side pocket of my bag, condoms…” you manage to say, and he turns to where your duffle sits on the chair in the corner.

He digs a little, then turns with a naughty smirk and raised eyebrow, your purple vibrator in his hand. You can’t help but laugh again at his expression, and he grins. “Another time maybe.” He puts it back, finding the original target and tossing the foil packet at you as he climbs onto the bed.

“Lay back – my turn to play,” you say, and move to let him settle himself in the middle of the bed, watching as you move down between his legs, his eyes glowing with anticipation. His stomach muscles jump as you reach for him, your fingers gently petting his erection, hot and hard and soft as velvet beneath your touch. He exhales harshly, his jaw working as he watches, swearing as you lean down to smother his cock with your breasts, your neck bent so you can run your tongue over the head.

“Jesus! Fff-uuuuuuck…” His hands are clawing into the bedding, the sexiest noises you’ve ever heard being punched from his chest as you suck the tip into your mouth, one hand squeezing at the tense, hard muscle of his thigh. You lift your body so you can bend and take him in deeper, pushing yourself to your limit, working him with your tongue and sucking hard as you pull back up. You do it again, and then once more, finally pulling off completely with a tease of your tongue into the slit. His chest is heaving with the effort of holding back, and when you tear open the packet, he reaches for your hand, shaking his head. “No… no, let me, I can’t...”

You hand it to him, watching as he grips the base of his cock, squeezing, his eyes clenched shut as he backs off the urge to come. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and you can barely hold still, your cunt pulsing, impatient to be filled. Finally he blows out a breath, taking the condom out and rolling it over his length. You climb up over him, attacking his lips as he clutches at your breast, and your sigh mingles with his moan as you lick into his mouth hungrily.

You can’t take it any longer, raising up to reach for him, guiding him to your entrance, mouth open in a silent cry as you slowly take him in. There’s fire in his eyes as he watches you, his gaze moving from your face to where you are joined and back again. You whimper as he fills you completely, piercing the deepest part of you, and you bite at your lip as you savor the sensation of your body shifting, molding itself around him.

Dean reaches to run his hands over the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently. “C’mere, baby,” he whispers, and you lower yourself back down to kiss him. “You feel so damn good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you hum in response, grinding down against him.

“Mmmmm, so do you.” You begin to move, rocking against him, the delicious friction on your clit making you moan. Soon you want more, and you reluctantly abandon Dean’s lips to raise up so you can ride him for real. His fingers dig into your hips as he helps you move, and each time you drop down to take him deep it forces a muffled cry from you. You fuck him until your legs are burning, right at the edge, almost desperate.

Dean sits up, one hand holding you tight against him as he puts the other down between you to rub at your clit, a low groan in his throat as your pussy clenches around him. “Come for me, and I’ll roll you over and fuck you so hard,” he promises. You’re begging now, ‘please’ and ‘Dean’ and swearing, gritting your teeth, and when he leans close to your ear, growling, “Give it to me,” you do. You barely recognize yourself in the sound that bursts from you as blinding ecstasy floods through you, and Dean grunts as your cunt seizes around him with a vicious squeeze.

You’re still riding the wave of your orgasm when he manhandles you, flipping you to your back and seamlessly driving back inside you. You clamp your legs around him, hips rising to meet every thrust as he hits a fast, furious rhythm, his arms caging your body and his face buried in your neck. You’re shaking, fingers tearing at the bed, shouting as he hits his peak and bites down on the slope of your neck. “Fuck!” You feel his cock pulsing as he comes, and it makes you shudder, your muscles seizing up again for a moment before you go completely limp beneath him.

He relaxes slowly, his body heavy and warm on top of yours, his lips and tongue soothing the bite before he goes motionless. You both lie there, chests heaving together, riding out aftershocks with soft little whimpers and moans. He finally moves, pulling out of you, sending a hard shudder through your body, and he laughs softly, making you smile. He rolls to his back, ridding himself of the condom before turning back to pull you close.

For a while there are slow, lazy kisses and roaming hands, and then he turns to his back again, cradling you against his side, your head tucked into his shoulder. His last thought as he dozes off is that maybe he doesn’t have a normal life. But what he has, right now? Worth it.

Tags for my lovelies: @saenalife @deanscarlett @jensensgotyoudean @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @geeklibrarian @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel @darcia22 @winchesterprincessbride @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @deanslittleangel2y5 @melanie451 @spectaculacular-sammy @bookchic20 @jodyri @selma-jean-blog @savingapplepie-eatingthings @kittenofdoomage @masked-maiden42 @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain @undecided-garden @ceeceewinchester @typicalweirdbookworm @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @youtoldalie @tanithlowisabamf-blog @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @kreweofimp @gabavaldman @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @darkx143 @disassociativedogma @ioanashalala @jencharlan @deansthirstblog @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1 @winchestersandwordprocessors @percussiongirl2017 @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @torn-and-frayed @sandlee44 @wingedcatninja @evansrogerskitten @emoryhemsworth @peaceinourtime82 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @sarcasmqueen74 @maliburenee @mrsjenniferwinchester @yeehawbitchs @emily-winchester @hobby27

#worth it #stu's sinema challenge #dean fic #dean x reader #dean smut

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dianawinchester03 · 26 days

Text

Season 1, Episode 4 - Phantom Traveler

Third Person POV

Y/N and Dean are currently asleep. On separate beds of course, in the three bedded motel room. Half asleep, both facing each other on their respective beds, they hear the door start to unlock, instantly jumping into hunters instinct, they go to grab their weapons from below their pillows upon hearing footsteps and the door locking.

"Morning Sunshines" Sam's voice is ridden with humor. Y/N groans from being woken up. "What time is it?" Dean asks, his voice croaky. "It's about 5:45" Sam says. Y/N gets up slowly, turning her head to Sam who has three coffees in his hand. "In the morning?" She groans, throwing her covers from over her, sitting up and stretching.

"Yep" Sam says, confirming. "Where does the day go?" Dean asks rhetorically, getting up also. Y/N looks at Sam properly, seeing a tired expression on his face, "Did you get any sleep last night?" Y/N asks Sam, her voice filled with concern, as she tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Her bed head in a mess.

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours" Sam lies and Dean picks up on this. "Liar" he grumbles back almost immediately. "I was up at 3, and you were watching George Foreman informercial, while Ms. Nicotine over here was snoring her lungs away" Dean says sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Snickering, he points to Y/N who is now by an open window, sitting on the still, one leg crossed over the other, in the middle of lighting cigarette.

She pauses halfway, looking up guiltily, like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The brothers look back at their friend chuckling. "I do not snore" She huffs, taking a drag. Sam turns back to his brother and sassily remarks. "Hey, what can I? It's riveting TV" He shrugs.

"When's the last time you get a goodnight's sleep?" Y/N asks Sam, flicking some ash into the ashtray. "I don't know. A little while, I guess. It's not a big deal" Sam tries to say casually but he talked quickly so they knew he was lying. "Yeah, it is" Dean says firmly. But Sam chuckles, trying to ease the mood. "Look, I appreciate your concern guys— " Sam goes to say but Y/N cuts him off with her usual smartass response.

"Oh I'm not concerned about you. It's your job as my best friend and as Dean's brother to keep our asses alive. So we need you sharp" Y/N says sarcastically and Sam just rolls his eyes nodding. "Seriously, you still having nightmares about Jess?" She asks as she takes her last drag from her cigarette, outing it in the ashtray, getting up to sit back down on her bed.

Sam sighs and takes a seat next to her. "Yeah" he answers honestly, handing a coffee to her and Dean as he talks. "But it's not just her, it's everything. I just forgot, you know, this job. Man it gets to you" Sam stresses. "Well you can't let it, you can't bring it home like that" Dean says nonchalantly sipping his coffee.

Y/N side-eyes Dean while Sam looks at his brother like 'huh'. "Wonderful advice, Shakespeare". Y/N says sarcastically scoffing "So, what, all this, it never keeps you up at night?" Sam asks and Dean shakes his head.

"Never? You're never afraid?" Y/N asks shocked. "No, not really. Are you?" Dean asks sipping his coffee and Sam chuckles, leaning over onto Deans bed, he pulls out the knife below his pillow, waving it triumphantly in the air, with a 'So what's this?' look on his face.

Y/N eyebrows shoot up at the irony. Knowing she has her gun below her pillow but she can admit she's afraid of whatever is out there but doesn't have a choice other than to kill every evil bastard.

"That's not fear. That is precaution" Dean argues. "Alright whatever. I'm too tired to argue" Sam says. "Well I'm not" Y/N interjects. "So you're telling me. Nothing scares you? Not the thought of anything or the sight of anything" Y/N asks, sipping her coffee. Dean just shrugs.

"Not even the thought of losing those you love? Because honestly that scares me" She says and Dean can't help but agree. "Okay, you got me there, princess" He says chuckling at the fact that she called him out in a debate and won.

He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked, sipping her coffee with her cute little bed head, sticking all over the place. Y/N noticed the same with Dean, his hair sticks all over the place as he sips his coffee, his eyes not leaving hers.

A blush creeps up on Y/N face when she realizes Dean is staring at her. She can't help the butterflies that begin to flutter in her stomach.

Their little staring contest is cut off by her phone ringing. An unknown number, looking at it weirdly and back up at the boys. She flips the phone up, answering. "Hello?"

"Y/N? It's Jerry Panowski" She shakes her head at the boys who are listening in, still not knowing who it is. "You and your dad helped me out a couple years back". When the man says this, her memory refreshes. "Oh, right yeah. Up in...uh.. Kittanning, Pennsylvania. The poltergeist thing" She says in recognition.

"It's not back, is it?" She asks warily. "No. No, thank god, no" Jerry immediately says chuckling. "But it's something else, and, uh, well. I think it could be a lot worse" Jerry says. "What is it?" She asks concerned. "Can we talk in person?" Jerry asks and she looks up at the boys.

________________________________

The Impala and Harley make their way over to Pennsylvania. While riding over, Y/N starts thinking that maybe she should park Quinn up at one of their safehouses to save on gas and just ride with the boys. That is until they find their dads and go their separate ways.

The thought of having to part ways with them saddens her a bit. Dismissing the thought, she decides to tell the boys on their pit stop for fuel and food that they can drop Quinn off in her Indiana safehouse, as it's on the way to Pennsylvania and they can just go with Baby. They agree, no hesitation.

________________________________

"Thanks for making the trip so quick" Jerry, the man who called Y/N, says gratefully her and the boys as they follow behind him. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around" He chuckles turning to the boys, "Y/N and her dad really helped me out" Jerry says.

"Yeah, she told us. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asks. "Poltergeist? I love that movie!" A random guy in the background says causing Y/N and Dean to snicker. "Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking" Jerry orders the young man. Before turning to Sam, the trio still walking behind Jerry.

"Damn right it was a poltergeist. Practically tore our house apart" Jerry says. "Tell you something...." He then turns to Y/N "...if it wasn't for you and your dad. I probably wouldn't be alive" And she smiles at this, the boys giving her a look of impress.

"Y/N said you were off to college right?" Jerry asks Sam and he nods. "Yeah, I was. I'm taking some time off" Sam says. "She was real proud proud of you. I could tell. She talked about you all the time" Jerry says. Sam is shocked at this and Dean side eyes him. "She did?" Sam looks off at his best friend smirking and she scoffs. Waving it off.

"Yeah, you bet she did" Jerry confirms and Sam smiles at the thought of Y/N bragging about him going if to college. "Don't give me that look Sammy, I'll still kick your ass" She half threatens her best friend and he chuckles. Dean can't help but feel a bit jealous at their bond, feeling like he's never gotten close enough to Y/N or accomplished anything big enough for her to brag about him.

"Oh, hey, you know. I tried to get ahold of f/n but I couldn't. How's he doing anyway?" Jerry asks. The boys and y/n share a look before Dean says, "He's wrapped up in a job right now, with our dad" lying casually. "Well, we're missing the old man...but we get Sam and Dean. Even trade huh?" He jokes, turning around, walking backwards and turning back. They all laugh.

Sam goes to deny but y/n says, "Even better, trust me. They're the best I know" She smiles. "I got something I want you guys to hear" Jerry says, leading them into his office.

"I listened to this. And well, it sounded like it was up your alley" Jerry says and he puts the CD into the player. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours". He says as the CD slides in. Sam, Dean and Y/N listen intently.

"Mayday. Mayday. Repeat. This is United Britannia 2485 requesting immediate instructions and help" says the captain.

"United Britannia flight 2485, we copy your mayday" the responder immediately followed.

"We may be experiencing some kind of mechanical failure...."

Before the captain's sentence is finished, it's taken over by a hissing and growling noise that honestly doesn't sound remotely humane.

"Took off from here, crashed about 200 miles south. Now they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow, nobody knows why. Over 100 people onboard, only seven got over alive" Jerry explains the situation and it shocks them. "Pilot was one. His name was Chuck Lambert, he's a good friend of mine. Chuck is....Well he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault" Jerry says sadly.

"You don't think it was" Y/N states. "No, I don't" Jerry admits. "Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors—" Sam begins but Dean cuts him off. "Right. And anyways we could take a look at the wreckage?" Dean asks. "The other stuff is no problem but the wreckage...kids, the NTSB had it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance" Jerry says.

"It's no problem" Y/N smiles at him, ensuring they'll be fine.

Later we're outside a store named "Copy Jack". Y/N and Sam are growing impatient of waiting for Dean, leaning against Baby. "Dude, you've been in there forever" Y/N grumbles annoyed and he flashes three fake IDs in their faces. "You can't rush perfection" Dean says sassily and Y/N roll her eyes. "Homeland Security?" Sam questions, taking his ID and Y/N takes hers. "That's pretty illegal. Even for us man" Y/N says and Dean smirks. Heading to the drivers seat.

"Yeah, well. It's something new. People haven't seen it a thousand times" He jumps into the drivers seat. Sam takes shotgun and Y/N jumps in the back. "Alright. So what do you got?" Dean asks Sam as he pulls out his laptop. "Well, there's definitely E.V.P. on the cockpit voice recorder. Listen" Sam clicks the laptop, playing the recording.

It's basically a bunch of static accompanied with a weird voice saying "No survivors".

"No survivors? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors?" She asks, confused. "Got me" Sam shrugs. "So what do you guys think? A haunted flight?" Dean questions. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships. Like Phantom Travelers. Or remember flight 401?" Sam explains while me and Dean nod and agree.

"Right. The one that crashed. And the airline salvaged its parts, put it in other planes. Then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights" Y/N explains the story of Flight 401, Dean looks at her smiling at her beauty and brains. "What?" She asks innocently. "You're such a nerd" He snorts. She rolls her eyes. "Shut it, charming" she huffs.

Sam shakes his head at them, chuckling. "Maybe we got a similar deal" Sam says. "So, survivors, who do you wanna talk to first?" Dean asks Sam and Y/N, looking at the list Jerry gave them. "Third on the list, Max Jaffe" Sam immediately responds. "Why him?" Y/N asks. "We'll for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did" Dean turns to Sam after he says this. "What makes you say that?" Dean asks.

"Well, I spoke to his mother and she told me where to find him" He says

________________________________

Now in the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital, the boys and y/n introduce theirselves as Homeland Security so they can get in to question Max Jaffe.

"I don't understand, I already spoke with Homeland Security" Max says, confused as they stroll through the yard of the hospital. "Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could answer a couple questions" Dean says professionally. "Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual" Sam asks Max.

"Like what?" Max responds and Y/N explains further. "Strange lights. Weird noises, maybe. Voices" He looks at them weirdly before denying it. "No, nothing". they all take a seat at one of the tables in the yard. "Hmm, Mr Joffe-" Dean starts but Max corrects him. "Jaffe".

"Jaffe. You checked yourself in here, right?" Dean corrects himself and Max nods. "Can we ask why?" Y/N asks gently. "I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash" Max says as if it's obvious. "Uh-huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" Dean asks probingly and Max ceases up. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore" Max says getting agitated.

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what" Dean presses. "No. No, I was delusional. Seeing things" Max denies the fact. "He was seeing things" Dean says plainly, looking at Y/N and Sam and they tilt their heads at his bluntness and annoyed behavior. Turning to Max, Y/N softens her gaze, "It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please" Y/N says calmly and Max takes a deep breath.

"There was this man. And uh, he had these.....eyes, these, uh....black eyes" Max shakily begins to explain, the boys and Y/N exchange a look.. "And I saw him. Or, I thought I saw him...." Max trails off. "What?" Dean urges him to continue. "He opened the emergency exit. But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean I looked it up. There's something like 2 tons of pressure on that door" This statement from Max catches their attention.

"Yeah" Dean says. "This man, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage" Sam asks and Max looks at them like they're crazy. "What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right infront of me"

________________________________

"So here we are, George Phelps, seat 20C" Sam says as they pull up to the man who supposedly opened the emergency exit door mid flight. "Hmm. Man, I don't care how strong you are. Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight" Dean says as they all exit the Impala, shutting our doors and leaning on her.

"Not if you're human" Y/N adds, leaning against Baby to face Dean. "But maybe this guy George was something else" She says. "Some kind of creature, maybe? In human form?" Sam interjects, leaning on Baby. "Does that look like a creatures lair to you?" Dean asks and Sam turns around looking at the house.

"This is your late husband?" Sam picks up a picture of George Phelps, asking the newly widowed Mrs. Phelps. "Yes, that was my George" Mrs. Phelps confirms, her tone croaky as if she had been crying. "And you said he was a dentist?" Y/N asks kindly. "Uh-huh. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Did you know that he was petrified to fly?" Mrs. Phelps tells them.

"For him to go like that..." She says sadly, trailing off. "How long were you married?" Sam asks softly and she smile a bit thinking about it. "Thirteen years".

"And all that time...did you ever notice anything strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?" Y/N asks and Deans eyes flicker from her to Mrs. Phelps. "Well....he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean" Mrs. Phelps answers and the trio is bit disappointed.

"I mean, it goes without saying, it doesn't make any sense" Sam says as they leave the Phelps residence. "Yeah, a middle aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified" Y/N says, as they walk back to baby. "You know what we need to do is get inside NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage" Dean says, nodding excited.

"Okay, but if we're gonna go that route, we better look the part" Y/N smirks, wiggling her eyebrows at the boys.

________________________________

Sam, Dean and Y/N walk out of a store named "Morts Unisex For Style". Now dressed up. Sam and Dean in black and white formal suits. Y/N in a black blazer, white blouse and a pencil skirt.

"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers" Dean says, tugging at his suit uncomfortably . "No, you don't. You look more like a seventh grader at his first dance" Sam teases and Y/N snickers. High-fiving him. Dean rolls his eyes, looking down at his outfit.

"I hate this thing" Dean grumbles as they walk back to the car. "You want into that warehouse or not?" Y/N shoots back. She had to stop herself from drooling when she saw Dean in his suit. She never realized she had a thing for suits till she saw Dean in his. She was always more a leather jacket, tattoos and piercings gal.

"Ohh chin up charming, chicks dig suits. You'll be fine" Y/N says, stepping infront of him, fixing his tie, looking into his eyes. She blushes a bit when he winks at her. "You don't look bad yourself, Princess" He smirks at her.

Dean kept himself from gawking at her. How that pencil skirt hugged her waist and her curves tightly. "Damn straight, I look hot" She says cockily, winking back, taking her hands off his tie. 'You're damn right you do' Dean thinks, hiding his blush.

"Guys, enough flirting, we gotta go" Sam groans, from the passenger seat of Baby, sticking his head out the window. Y/N rolls her eyes. "Not flirting, dipshit" She huffs, jumping in the backseat. "Whatever, crackhead" Sam retorts back, snorting. "Settle down children" Dean says in a playful fatherly tone, putting the Impala in drive. "Jerk" "Asshat" Sam and Y/N say in unison, glaring at Dean who laughs.

________________________________

They're now at the warehouse, game faces on, flashing their badges to the security who nods and let's them in.

Now surrounded by large scraps of metal from the wreckage. Dean pulls out an old Walkman. "What is that?" Sam asks. "It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies" Dean explains. "Yeah, I know what and EMF meter is. But why does that look like a busted-up Walkman?" Sam asks.

"Because that's what I made it out of. It's homemade" Dean says, smiling proudly holding it up. Sam looks at his brother judgement on his face, raising his eyebrow. "Yeah, I can see that" And Deans smile drops.

"Don't worry buddy, I think it's cool" Y/N pats his shoulder, reassuring him and his smile's back. His heart leaping at her touch. They walk around, using the EMF reader to scan the wreckage. It starts beeping when they reach the emergency door handle.

"Check out the emergency door handle" Dean says, Y/N leans over, scratching its surface. A yellow powder falls off. "What is this stuff?" She asks. "One way to find out" Sam says, taking his knife out and a little bag, scraping some off into it as Y/N dusts her fingers.

They hear some footsteps coming their way and take that as signal to beat it. Finding their way to the exit they walk out at a decent pace, until an alarm starts blurring. Dean throws his jacket as the reach the fence and jump it. Pulling it off after, "Wow, these monkey suits do come in handy" Dean says out of breath, running off.

Sam and Y/N run behind him. "Told ya!" Y/N retorts as they jump into baby and make way.

________________________________

They meet back with Jerry, who takes them to the lab in the facility he works at to examine the yellow dust they found. Looking under the microscope, "Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfer" He tells them. "You sure?" Sam asks. "Take a look for yourself. If you kids would excuse me, I have an idiot to fire" Jerry says walking out.

"Hey, Einstein. Yeah, you. What the heck are you doing?!" Jerry shouts at the incompetent employee and Y/N goes over to look under the microscope. "Hmm. Not many things leave a sulfuric residue" Y/N says knowingly, looking at the boys. "Demonic possession" Sam says. "It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open an emergency hatch" Dean says.

"If the guy was possessed, it's possible" Sam sighs. "Yeah but this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person but to use it to take down an entire airplane" Dean says, resting his hands on his hips. Y/N shakes her head, holding back a laugh at the reference.

"You ever heard of something like this before?" Sam asks them. "Never" Dean says and Y/N shakes her head.

________________________________

Back at the motel, the walls are plastered with research in the case. Sam is on his laptop by the desk, Dean is on his bed with a book and pen in his hand and Y/N is on her laptop, next to Sam, researching.

"So, every religion and world culture has the concept of demons and possession. Right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it" Sam says, leaning back in his chair. Dean and Y/N look up from their books and laptops. Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this" Dean says.

"Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease" Sam explains. "And this one causes plane crashes?" Y/N raises her eyebrow.

Sam sighs, looking back at his laptop. "Alright. So, what, we have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?" Dean gets up, walking over to Sam and Y/N. "Yeah" Sam says, stumped. "And you know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?" Y/N says looking at the boys and Dean chuckles, trying to mask his fear.

He walks towards his bed but Sam asks, "What?". Dean scratches his head and turns to them, "I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish dad was here" Dean stresses, scratching his head. "Yeah. Me too", Y/N says sadly.

Y/N's cell phone starts ringing. "Hello?" She answers, flipping it up. "Y/N, it's Jerry" Jerry says over the phone. "Oh, hey, Jerry." She says. "My pilot friend...Chuck Lambert is dead" Jerry says and her face drops, the boys look over at her concerned. "Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?" She says sorrowfully.

"He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago. Plane went down" Jerry explains. "Where'd this happen?" Y/N asks. "About 60 miles west of here, near Nazareth" Jerry says and she takes a breath. "I'll try to ignore the irony of that" She mutters.

"I'm sorry?" Jerry asks confused. "Nothing, Jerry. Hang in there alright? We'll catch up with you soon" She says, hanging up. Looking at them. "Another crash?" Sam asks. "Yeah, let's go".

"Where?" Dean asks. "Nazareth" She says.

________________________________

They go to the crash, pick up a sample of the yellow powder to confirm if it's sulfur and head back to Jerry's. Now looking under a microscope, Dean asks Jerry, "Sulfur?" And he nods in confirmation. "Well, that's great" Dean says, turning to Sam and Y/N who're sitting by the desk.

"Alright, so that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him" Dean says to them. "With all due respect to Chuck...uh, if that's the case, that would be the good news" Y/N says to Jerry, respectfully. "What's the bad news?" Dean asks.

"Chucks plane went down exactly after 40 minutes in the flight" Sam interjects, "And, get this, so did flight 2485" He adds and Deans face drops, along with Y/N's. "40 minutes. What does that mean?" Jerry asks, confused. "It's Biblical numerology. You know, Noah's Ark, it rained for 40 days. The number means death" Y/N explains.

"I went back, and there were six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly 40 minutes in" Sam says. "Any survivors" Dean asks slightly surprised. "No. Or not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason" Sam shakes his head. "On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the E.V.P. said?" Sam asks.

"No survivors" Y/N quotes the recording and Dean sighs. "If it's going after all the survivors, it's trying to finish the job" Dean realizes.

________________________________

Sam, Dean and Y/N are in the Impala headed to the airport. Y/N is in the backseat, pretending to be a call agent doing surveys, checking with the survivors to see if they're planning on flying anytime soon.

"Really? Well, thank you for taking our surgery, and if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks" She says in a formal voice before hanging up. "Alright. That takes Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway off the list. They're not flying anytime soon" Y/N tells the boys as she crosses the names off the list.

"So our only wild card is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker." Dean suggests. "Right." Sam says. "Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8 p.m. It's her first night back on the job" Y/N explains. "Huh, sounds like just our luck" Dean says, looking at Y/N in the rear view mirror.

Her head is down as she scans the list, her eyebrows creases whenever she's focused on something. A fact Dean found very cute of her.

"Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel" Sam's concerned voice breaks Dean out of his thoughts, returning his gaze from Y/N to his brother. "Don't worry about it, man. Hey, princess. Why don't you call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can head her off at the pass?" Dean says to Y/N and she lifts her head up.

"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off" Y/N says propping her hand on the door, rubbing her head. "God, we're never gonna make it fellas" She says worried. "Oh we'll make it" Dean says determined, hitting the gas.

________________________________

They make it to the airport just in the nick of time. Running in to look at the flight schedule. Their eyes scan the TVs.

"Right there. They're boarding in 30 minutes" Sam says out of breath, pointing at the flight time. "Okay. We still have some cards to play. I need to find a phone" Dean says, going to look for a telephone box. Y/N and Sam follow behind.

"Airport Services" The woman on the phone says. "Gate 13" Dean says into the phone. "Who are you calling, sir?" She asks. "I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on the flight..um..Flight 424" He says into the phone. "Come on" Dean says impatiently.

"Amanda Walker. Amanda Walker, you have a phone call. White courtesy phone, gate 13." Another woman over the PA system draws to Amandas attention. Picking up the phone, Amanda answers, "This is Amanda Walker"

"Ms. Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hatfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here." Dean says professionally, as Sam and Y/N lean closer to him, trying to hear the conversation. "Nothing serious. Just a minor car accident, but she was injured so-" Dean gives his fake explanation but Amanda cuts him off.

"Wait, wait. That's impossible. I just got off the phone with her" Amanda says and Dean pauses, stumped, caught in his lie. "You what?" He asks, bewildered. "Five minutes ago. She's at her house cramming for a final. Who is this?" Amanda asks, now suspicious and annoyed.

"Uh, well, must be some mistake" He gives a lame excuse causing Y/N to roll her eyes, turning from Y/N and Sam. They move closer to hear. "How would you even know I was here?" Amanda asks suspiciously. "Is this one of Vince's friends?" She asks and Dean just goes with it. "Guilty as charged" Dean chuckles.

"Wow, this is unbelievable" Amanda exaggerates. "He's really sorry" Dean continues to go with it. "Well you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?" She says angrily. "Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight. So-" Dean tries to convince her but she won't budge.

"No, I'm sorry, it's too late" Amanda says, shaking her head. "Don't be like that. I mean come on. The guys a mess. Really it's pathetic." He tries to sway her and it seems to work a bit. "Really?" She asks hopefully. "Oh, yeahhh" Dean assures her. "Look, I gotta go. Tell him call me when I land" She says and hangs up

"No. No wait Amanda. Amanda!" Dean calls out to her but she already hung up. Dean rests the phone back, pissed. "Damn it! That was so close" He says, frustrated. Sam shakes his head saying. "Alright, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane" And Y/N nods her head.

"Now, just hold on a second" Dean tries to reason. "Dean. That plane is leaving with over 100 passengers on board. And if we're right, that plane is gonna crash" Y/N counters. "I know" Dean says, frightened. This makes Y/N's eyebrows quirk up and it dawns in her. He's scared.

"Okay, we get on the plane, find that demon and exorcise it. Look I'll get the tickets. You go get whatever you can out of the trunk will make it by security. Meet me back here in five minutes" Sam quickly maps out a plan, not realizing his brother is scared. Dean doesn't move, looking in between the both of them anxiously. "Are you okay?" Sam asks.

"No, not really" Dean croaks out. "What? What's wrong" Sam asks confused. "He's scared" Y/N interjects, biting back a smirk. Remembering how Dean said earlier that nothing scared him. Deans face drops and Sam looks at his brother surprised. "You have a problem with flying?"

"Well it's never been an issue until now!" Dean counters. "You're joking right?" Sam asks, bewildered. Y/N holds back a snicker, though she shouldn't be laughing she can't help but find the situation ironic. "Do I look like I'm joking?!" Dean exclaims. "Why do you think I drive everywhere?" He justifies his argument. Y/N bursts out laughing, not able to hold it back anymore. Causing Sam to laugh, belting over holding his stomach.

"It's not funny guys!" Dean whisper yells, embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry but it's just. Earlier you were all macho man. And now you're scared. It's ironic" Y/N gasps between laughs. They calm down almost instantly. "Alright. Okay, we'll go" Y/N says, wiping her tears. "What?" Dean asks. "We'll do this one on our own" Sam adds, gesturing between him and Y/N.

"What are you two, nuts!? You said it yourself y/n/n, the planes gonna crash" He says. "Dean, we can do it together. We're not seeing a third option here" Sam defends, still trying to hold back a laugh. "Come on! Really? Man..." Dean says, his voice shaking, going up a octave. He looks around nervously, putting his hands on his hips.

________________________________

"Flight attendants, please crosscheck and prepared for departure" The pilot says over the speaker on the plane. Sam, Dean and Y/N are currently occupying a row on the plane. Y/N in the middle of the boys with Dean on the end. Dean is nervously reading a pamphlet while Sam looks over at his brother amused.

The plane prepares for take off and Dean begins to panic a bit, putting away the pamphlet. "Just try to relax" Sam says soothingly. "Just try to shut up" Dean snaps back and Sam laughs. Deans eyes widen when the plane starts to rumble from take off, Sam smirks looking at his brother.

"Here" Y/N says softly, taking Deans hand in hers. He looks over at her shocked, "I've got you" She in a nurturing tone, giving him a small smile, feeling a little bad for laughing earlier, now looking at Deans panicked state.

He takes a deep breath, looking into her eyes. Feeling a weight lift off of him from her touch, a sense of calmness takes him over a bit and he leans back in his seat. Sam notices this and smiles at their little moment.

A little into the flight, Dean's hand hasn't left Y/N's yet. He feels the panic coming back a bit so he starts humming and Y/N leans closer to hear. "You humming Metallica?" She asks, amused. "Calms me down" He says quickly. "Look charming. I get you're nervous, alright? But you gotta stay focused" She says calmly and he nods. "Okay" Dean says. "How long we got, Sammy?" He asks his brother.

"We got 32 minutes and counting to track this thing down or whoever it's possessing anyway and preform a full on exorcism" Sam says. "On a crowded plane. That'll be easy" Dean retorts sarcastically. "Just take it one step at a time, alright?" Y/N says gently, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb.

Even in the midst, Dean is liking this calm, nurturing side of Y/N. He usually sees her act like this towards grieving families but never really towards him. Maybe they should go on planes more often? He thinks. Nope, scratch that.

"Now who is it possessing?" Y/N says, looking around the plane for any telltale signs. "Well, it's usually gonna be someone with some sort weakness. You know? A chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Someone with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress" Dean explains.

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up" Sam says and Dean beckons an attendant over. "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?" He asks. "No I'm not" She says nicely. "Oh, my mistake" He says apologetically and she walks off. He looks behind to see another attendant that has to be Amanda.

"Alright. Well, that's gotta be Amanda back there. So I'll go talk to her and I'll get a read on her mental state" Dean says, Sam and Y/N look back at her. "Right, what is she's already possessed?" Y/N asks. "There's ways to test that" Dean says, opening his bag and pulling out a bottle. "I brought holy water" He says holding it up but Sam reaches over, grabbing it.

"No. I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God" Sam says and Dean looks impressed, "Oh, nice" He unclips his belt, letting go of Y/N's hand gently but she stops him. "Why don't I go? You stay and relax a bit" She says sweetly. Dean nods, obliging and Y/N gets up to go to the back.

He feels a bit empty now that she isn't holding his hand for some reason. Y/N feels a bit sad also but remains focused on the mission.

"Hey" Sam calls her back. "What?" She asks. "Say it in Latin" He tells her. "I know" She answers and goes to walk off. "Hey!" He calls her back. "What?" She comes back again, slightly annoyed. "Uh. In Latin, it's Christo" He says. "Dude, I know. I'm not an idiot!" She grumbles at him, walking to the back of the plane.

Dean chuckles a bit at her outburst while Sam looks at his brother smirking. "What?" He asks Sam. "Nothing. Just wish I had someone to calm me down mid flight too..." Sam pokes fun at Dean and he rolls his eyes. "Shut up" he growls, hiding his blush. Sam puts his hands up in surrender laughing. "Hey man, I'm just saying" He laughs.

The plane jolts a bit and Dean clutches onto to his seat in fear. Sam reaches over the seat and places his hand on Dean's. "Here, I've got you" Sam snorts in laughter, mimicking his best friends words from earlier and Dean slaps his hand away quickly.

"Touch me again and I'll put bleach in your shampoo" Dean grumbles and Sam just laughs hysterically. Dean has a small smile on his face that doesn't go unnoticed by Sam. 'These two are too stubborn for their own good' Sam thinks to himself.

Meanwhile, Y/N is at the back of the plane. "Hi" She smiles at Amanda who smiles back. "Hi, May I help you with something?" Amanda asks nicely as she's fixing cups on the cart. "No. I'm just a bit of an uneasy flier. Makes me feel better when I walk around a little bit" Y/N says casually.

"Oh, it happens to the best of us" Amanda says knowingly. "Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess flying comes easy to you" She says and Amanda chuckles. "Yeah, you'd be surprised".

"Really? You're a nervous flier?" She asks and Amanda nods. "Yeah, maybe. Little bit" She says smiling.

"Now, how is it being a stewardess, you're scared to fly?" Y/N asks curious. "It's kind of a long story" Amanda says and Y/N apologizes. "Right. I'm sorry for asking". "It's okay" Amanda says softly but Y/N continues. "You ever consider other employment?"

"No. Look, everybody's scared of something. I just, uh...I'm not gonna let it hold me back" She says honestly. "Huh. That's really brave I'd you" Y/N nods and Amanda looks down smiling. "Christo" Y/N mutters. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Amanda asks, looking up. Y/N looks at her in face confusion, quirking up her eyebrows chuckling.

"Christo?" She says as if it were a question, a smile on her face. "I didn't— I didn't—" Amanda stutters, confused. A pleasant smile still on her face. "Nothing, never mind" Y/N gives up, her face dropping as she walks out going back to her seat.

"Alright. Well she's gotta be the most well adjusted person on the planet" She says, sitting back between the boys. "You said Christo?" Sam asks. "Yeah" She sighs, buckling back up. "And?" Dean asks, unconsciously reaching for her hand.

"There's no demon in her. There no demon getting in her" She says, noticing Deans reaching for her hand. She takes it, caressing the back of his palm with her thumb soothingly again and he relaxes a bit. "So if it's on the plane, it can be anyone, anywhere" Sam says, looking around.

The plane jolts more this time due to turbulence and Dean panics. "Come on, that can't be normal!" He exclaims. "Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence" She says gently. And he looks back at her, "Y/N, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like, I'm 4" Dean snaps at her. "You need to calm down" She says, trying to keep her cool.

"Well I'm sorry, I can't!" Dean grumbles. "Yes, you can" She says calmly and he glares at her. "Y/N, stow the touchy-feely, self help yoga crap. It's not helping" He growls angrily and she snaps, squeezing his hand that's still in hers without realizing it.

"Listen to me, Winchester. If you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession. You've basically got a sign plastered to your ass saying 'Pick me, Choose me'. So you need to calm yourself down, right now! Cuz if you don't, that demon is gonna make you his personal bitch so hold my hand, take a deep breath and relax!" She growls back firmly.

Dean feels her hand squeezing his and winces a bit. She loosens her grip and he takes a deep breath. "Good" She says. "I'm sorry for being so snappy at you, princess" Dean says apologetically and Sam's eyebrows cock at this. His brother apologizing? Damn he's whipped. "Everyone's scared of something, even you charming" Y/N repeats Amanda's words to her earlier, giving him a small smile of reassurance.

"I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum" Sam cuts in, flipping through his book. "What do we have to do?" Dean asks. "It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful" Sam begins to explain. "More powerful?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah" Sam answers. "How?" Dean asks. "We'll it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own" Sam says. "Oh, and why is that a good thing?" Dean asks. "Well, because the second part, sends the bastard back to hell, once and for all" Sam says.

"First things first. We gotta find it" Y/N says. Dean gets up from his seat with an EMF reader and begins scanning the passengers subtly while walking down the aisle. A few people look at him like he's crazy but there's not beep on the reader.

Sam and Y/N walk up behind him and he doesn't notice him. Resting his hand on his shoulder, Dean jumps. "Oh, man, don't do that!" Dean exclaims.

"Anything?" Sam asks. "No, nothing. How much time we got?" He asks. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody" Y/N says, checking her watch. "Maybe the things just not on the plane" Dean suggests. "You believe that?" Sam asks. "Well, I will if you will" He says and Y/N rolls her eyes. Suddenly the EMF goes off, in the direction of the co-pilot.

"What? What is it?" Sam asks Dean. Y/N notices the red right on the EMF, looking in the direction Dean is. "Christo" She says and the co-pilot turns to them. His eyes flashing black, walking into the cockpit, locking the door.

They walk decide to ask Amanda for help, walking to the back of the plane. "She's not gonna believe this" Sam says as they walk to the back. "Twelve minutes, dude!" Dean informs his brother. "Oh hi. Flights not to bumpy for you, I hope" Amanda says turning around to Y/N.

"Actually that's kinda what we need to talk to you about" Y/N says smiling as Sam closes the curtains behind them. "Um, okay, what can I do for you?" Amanda asks nicely. "Alright this is gonna sound nuts but we just don't have time for the whole 'the truth is out there' speech—" Dean goes to say but Sam cuts him off. "Look, we know you were in flight 2485" Sam says and her face drops.

"Who are you people?" Amanda asks, suspiciously. "We've spoken to some of thes other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't mechanical failure" He says and Dean continues. "And we need your help to stop it from happening again, here, now" He ordersZ

"I'm sorry, I'm very busy. I have to go—" Amanda stutters, trying to walk between them to get away but Y/N holds her back by her shoulder. "Woah woah woah, wait a second" Y/N says, trying to get her attention and she steps back fearfully. "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me" Y/N reassures her.

"The pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert, he's dead" Y/N tells her and she shakes her head in disbelief. "What? Chuck is dead?" Amanda asks surprised and scared. "He died in a plane crash. That's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" Dean asks her, rhetorically and she stutters.

"Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight too" Sam tries to quickly explain. "Amanda you have to believe us" Y/N pleads with her. And she's hesitant but begins to recall the flight "On...on 2485, there was this man. He had these eyes.."

"Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about" Sam confirms what she saw was real. "Well I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?" She asks. "Get the copilot, we need you to bring him back here" Dean tells her. "Why? What does he have to do with anything?" Amanda asks, confused and frustrated.

"We don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him, okay?" Dean says quickly. "How am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the copilot-?" Amanda starts but Sam cuts her off. "Whatever it takes. Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken. Whatever will get him out of that cockpit" Sam says quickly Z

"Do you know that I could lose my job if-" Amanda begins again but this time Y/N cuts her off. "You'll lose a lot more than that if you don't help us out" Y/N says pleadingly and she looks between all of him before agreeing. "Okay" She says and walks out, towards the cockpit. Knocking on the door and luring him out.

The copilot begins to follow begins her. Sam takes out John's journal and flips to the page of the exorcism, Dean takes out the holy water and Y/N takes out her iron knuckle ring, just for good measure.

The possessed copilot enters, "Now, what's the problem?" He asks and Y/N instantly right hooks him with her ring. Dean grabs him, lifts him up and slams him back down on the ground. Duck taping his mouth shut so he can't smoke out. "What are you doing?! You said you were just gonna talk to him!" Amanda panics, seeing the trio attack the copilot.

"We are gonna talk to him" Y/N says ruggedly as Dean pours holy water on the copilot, his skin sizzling and burning from the touch causing his clothes to singe. "Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?" Amanda can't believe what she's witnessing. "Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain. Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?" Sam gently asks while instructing her. But shes panicking at the scene unfolding in-front of her.

"Can you do that? Amanda? Amanda?" Sam tries to get her attention. "Okay. Okay." She says, fearfully, leaving. Y/N lays another punch on the copilot while Dean holds him down. "Hurry up Sam, I don't knock how much longer we can hold him" Dean struggles trying to hold him, along with Y/N. Sam drenches him in holy water again and starts chanting the exorcism in Latin.

The demon breaks out of their hold, knocking the holy water out of Sam's hand, kicking Dean and Y/N off of him and shoving Sam against the wall. Dean and Y/N recover, holding him back down as Sam chants the exorcism again. Kicking Dean and Y/N off again. He rips the duct tape off and he grabs Sam by his collar and says, "I know what happened to your girlfriend" In a demonic voice.

"She must have died screaming. Even know, she's burning!!". He taunts Sam laughing maniacally and Y/N reaches over, punching him again. She and Dean hold him down, "Sam!" Dean yells at his brother to continue, the hate in Sam's face while looking at the demon building.

He continues chanting the exorcism. Dean and Y/N struggle to hold him down. Dropping the book to hold him down, he yells, "I got him!" The demon kicks John's journal into the aisle. But the demon escapes from the copilots body, smoking out from his mouth and goes into the vents. "Where'd it go?" Sam asks.

"Into the plane" Y/N points to the vent. "Hurry up, we gotta finish it" Dean taps Sam on his shoulder and he goes to retrieve the journal but the plane begins falling rapidly. Passengers screaming, tossing them from side to side. Sam rushes to get the journal but it slides under a seat.

Dean and Y/N try to balance themselves but they fall over at the back of the airplane. Dean falls onto Y/N. He holds onto her for dear life, clutching onto her thinking they're gonna die. She wraps her arms around him trying to calm him down even in this situation, his head in her chest, screaming, as the plane falls. Y/N began praying silently in her mind, she was never a religious person but if she needed to pray. Now was the time.

Outside in the aisle, Sam retrieves the journal that was under a seat. Opening the book, Sam chants the exorcism at the top of his lungs. Lightening sparks throughout the outside of the airplane and the plane is back on track. The demon expelled back to hell.

The entire plane sighs a big relief at the plane stabilizing. Families checking to see if their loved ones are safe.

Dean looks up at Y/N, tears drenching her face. Her eyes are screwed shut. When she realizes the plane settled, she looks down at Dean. Crying if relief, hugging him tightly and he hugs her back even tighter.

They both get up and dust themselves off, looking through the curtains to see Sam is standing having saved the day. Dean looks at her brother shaking his head.

________________________________

The plane is now disembarked. The copilot that was possessed is on a wheelchair, wrapped in a blanket. "Sir, can you tell me what happened?" A NTSB agent asks him. "I don't know. I was walking through the airport, then it all goes blank. I don't even remember getting on the plane" The copilot explains to the agent.

"Is there anything else?" An FBI Agent asks Amanda as Sam, Dean and Y/N look on. "No, that's all" She dismisses, looking over at the trio she mouths a silent 'Thank You' to them gratefully and they nod back.

Dean turns to his brother and Y/N, "Lets get out of here" He says, walking to the exit. Y/N looks at her best friend, knowing he's worked up over what the demon said about Jess. "You okay?" She asks, concerned. "Guys..." He turns to his brother and best friend. "...it knew about Jessica" Sam says, worried.

"Sam, these things, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was." Dean assures his little brother it was all mind games while Y/N nods. "Yeah" Sam says, unconvinced. "Come on" Dean say, walking towards the exit. Y/N notices Sam doesn't move and puts her hand out for him to take. He sighs, taking it, grabbing onto her wrist and they walk towards the exit.

________________________________

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do" Jerry says to them, now outside of the facility where he worked and they nod. "A lot of people could have been killed" He says gratefully, putting his hand out to shake their hands. "I've never met the man, but I'm sure your dads gonna be proud boys" He says to Sam and Dean. "We'll see you around, Jerry"

Turning to Y/N, he gives her a hug which she gladly returns. "I know your dad is proud of you kiddo" He says patting her shoulder and she smiles. "I sure do hope so too" she says to herself softly as Jerry walks off. "He is" Dean reassures her, flashing her a wink and she hides her blush.

They all pile into the Impala and hit the road, part of Y/N misses her bike but she's also grateful she can play backseat passenger princess for a bit and catch up on some Z's.

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#spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction

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regularme12 · 4 months

Text

Supernatural Tickle fic

Summary: Dean, from all these years not seeing his little brother, forgot he was hella ticklish, until one faithful night...

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"Oh my god, Why did I ever think hunting that clown, would be a good thing...?"

Sam and Dean both got back from a fearful hunt, on Sam's part. The little brother found this mystery in a news article, and he acted on it bc he thought that's what their dad would've wanted them to do. After Dean realized what the hunt was about, he made it his mission to tease his brother till they got to the carnival, and hell, even during the investigation he still did it. They got back to their motel, and Sam fell straight on the bed in a Patrick Star pose, with his arms stretched out beside his head, and his legs fell off the bed. Dean, being a good older brother, went to go join him, not to comfort him, to tease him more.

"Wow, Sam. That clown really got to you huh?" Dean laughed, while he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shove it, Dean." Sam threw a pillow at his face, in which his older brother caught it with ease, laughing even more. "Wow, I'm glad you find this soooo funny, smartass." Sam on the other hand didn't.

"Awww, come on, Sammy, You need to laugh more in your life, you're so tense all the time."

"It's Sam, I'm not a little kid no more. And quit teasing me about my stupid phobia, at least I'm not scared to fly." Sam smirked.

"Hey!" Dean got a little defensive over that, "You can die in a plane crash!"

"And apparently clowns kill, who looks stupid now."

There was a moment of silence until the older brother threw a pillow at his younger brother, surprising him in the midst. "Still you, haha"

"Ack! Dean! Quit your shit."

"Oh noo... Sam... BEHIND YOU!!"

Sam got scared and jumped up looking behind him, "WHAT?!"

"IT'S A CLOWN AND IT CAME TO KILL YOU!! OOGA BOOGA!!!" Dean took this chance and skittered his fingers on the latter's sides.

"Ahhh!! Dehehehean!! Stohohohop!!" Sam fell back squeezing his arms to his sides, kicking and squirming around.

"Wow, Sammy, after two years of not seeing you, you are still so ticklish since u were a kid. You know by now u oughta grow out of that." Dean towered over him pinning his arms down under his knees.

"Stohohohop!!! Dean! Please! You knohohow how muhuhuhuch I hate ihihit when you tihihihickle me!!!"

"I don't think I remember correctly, my mind's all foggy, I mean, after you left me and dad alone so you can go to college. I kinda missed pinning you down like this and tickling the shit out of you." Dean went and tazed both his sides, going up to his neck to tickle there, and moved back down to his sides whenever Sam decided to scrunch up his neck.

"Nahhhhaha, Dean!! Quhuhuhuitttt your shihihit, right fuuhuhucking now! I leheheft for two years! Nohohohot a dehehehcade, dumbass!"

"Wowwww, you're in this situation, and you still made it your mission to be a total smart ass? I think bad boys like you should be punished~." Dean jumped up on to his brother's chest, cuffing his legs around his arms to still immobolize him.

"Ugh, Dean, get your ass out of my fa-AHAHAHACE! NOOO AHAHAHAH STOHOHOP I HAHAHATE THAT I HAHAHAHATE THIS!!!" Dean went to knead at his hip bones, rubbing his thumbs in circles inside the hollow area.

"Oh, that's one thing I can remember. You're insanley ticklish on your hips, but it's not your worst spot. Do you want to help me jog my memory and remind me where it was again?"

"GOHOHO TO HELL!!"

"You do know, if u tell me now, I'll stop this whole ordeal and you can go away scott free, but if u don't... I may not stop for another good hour, Sammy."

"Fuck! Ok, whahahit!!"

"I'm not waiting.." Dean slowly started from his hip bone, and dragged his finger up to his worst spot, "Tell me now... or..."

"DAMN!! Dehehehan please, dohohon't."

"1..." He got closer.

"Dean!"

"2.." He got even closer~

"Wait, Dean! Please!"

"3..." Oh, he was right under it, wriggling his finger.

"FUCK!! DEAN!! STOP!!"

"Wow, you must really like saying my name. Wish it was yours, huh? Well, guess I'll just have to find out myself, bc you're not budging!" Dean started descending down with his finger. Until his lee yelled.

"OK!! FUCKING OK!!! It's my navel you basted!! IT'S MY FUCKING NAVEL, NOW STOP!!"

"Ohhh, you mean this part is your worst spot?" Dean started lightly scratching inside of his belly button.

"AH! DEAN! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T!" Sam kicked his knee so far up as a reflex and kicked his older brother square in the eye.

"OW! FUCK!" Dean, got off him falling to the side on the bed, holding his eye.

"Oh my god! Dean! Are you alright?! Here, I'll go get ice!!" Sam hurriedly got off the bed, and scarmbled to the freezer to get an ice pack, but all he could find was peas, so he used that instead.

"I'm fine, Sam. It's my fault. I should've stopped when you wanted me to. But you use to love tickling, you would beg dad and me to tickle you all the time , haha."

"Dean. I was 5, I'm 22 now, so I don't like that shit no more. I didn't know what was going on at the time, I used to love it, yh, but as I grew older, I hate the feeling now, that's all."

"Woah, all this sentalmental talk, you're not gonna expect me to hug you now, right?"

"No, Dean."

"Alright good."

There was more awkward silence, until Dean started chuckling.

"What's so funny now?!" Sam looked over with annoyance in his eyes

"I remember when I used to pin you down, and Dad started tickling your belly button, and you kicked him so hard in the back he had to go to the hospital and get physical therapy, couldn't walk for at least a good three days, give or take. And you were 13, so imagine how my eye feels right now!! Hahaha."

Sam started remembering that time, and chuckled too by how stupid it was, "Haha, shut up!" He punched his older brother's arm. "And don't forget you're ticklish too, if not, worse."

Dean got chills through his body by looking at Sam's evil smirk, inching towards him. The soon to be lee quickly got off the bed in a state of protests, "Wait, Sam, listen, ok?! I tickled you bc u were tense, I had to lay off some steam, you're finna tickle me for the hell of it, that's so unfair! You wouldn't do something like that to someone who's injured, right? Look at my eye! I may go blind now!"

"Just think of it as some revenge," Sam started chasing Dean around their small ass motel.

"NO SAM!! STOP PLEASE!!!" He put up a good race around the bed with a pea pack on his eye for a good 5 minutes. Sam could've easily tickled him sooner, but he loves the chase. He leaped across the bed, and pinned him down, and started tickling him.

Well, guess they both got what they wanted, right?

#tickle #tickle fic #supernatural #supernatural tickle

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layce2015 · 1 year

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Lucky Day

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Next Chapter

(Y/N) was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed, staring at him and holding his hand in between her hands. She was feeling an array of emotions as she stares at Dean's unconscious body. She frowns then let's out a small sigh while Dean was staring at her.

"I feel like I should be saying something...." (y/n) started to say and Dean looks her over. "But...I can't really think of anything. The only thing I can say is...I miss you, Dean. Even when you're being a smartass." She said and Dean smirks a bit at this. "I just..." (y/n) whispers then she holds on to his hand tighter then brings his hand up to her lips and kisses it.

"(Y/n)..." Dean said as he walks up to her then kneels down to her. "I wish you could hear me cause there's alot of things I'd like to say to you." Dean said and he goes to place his hand on her left shoulder.

Just as he does this, (y/n) felt something cold on her left shoulder. She places her right hand on her shoulder then turns her head slightly, almost looking at the spot that Dean was residing. Dean let's out a small gasp as (y/n) looks around the spot and whispered. "Dean?"

Suddenly, Sam enters the room quietly, clutching a brown paper bag in his arms, and (y/n) turns to him. "What's that?" She asked him. Sam looks at her then sighs as he pulls the object out of the bag. "Something I'd hope would help talk to Dean." He said then he looks around the room.

"(Y/n) and I think maybe you're around. And if you are, don't make fun of me for this, but um, well, there's one way we can talk." Sam said and he shows (y/n) a ouija board while Dean stares at his brother as he stands up.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me." Dean grumbles as (y/n) gives Sam a confused look. "A ouija board? Seriously?" She said. "You got any better ideas?" Sam asked her as he circles around the bed. "Good point." She said and the two sit cross legged on the floor.

Sam opens the box and pulls out the board and the two place their hands on the pointer. "Dean? Dean, are you here?" Sam asked as Dean scoffs. "God, I feel like I'm at a slumber party." He said as he sits opposite them in front of the board. "I feel like I should be at an all girl's slumber party." (Y/n) said and Dean looks over at her and grins. "Shall we braid each other's hair, Sam?" She asked, teasingly.

"Shut up." Sam said and (y/n) rolls her eyes at him. "All right, Sam. This isn't going to work." Dean said and he places his fingers on the pointer with Sam's and (y/n)'s fingers and slowly, concentrating, slides it to "YES" on the board. Sam and (y/n) gasp while Dean's jaw drops.

"I'll be damned." He said and Sam laughs in relief. "It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you, Dean." Sam said. "Damn straight." Dean said and he places his fingers on the pointer again and starts sliding it.

"Dean, what?" (Y/n) said, confused, just as the pointer goes to some letters.

"H?"

"U?"

"Hunt? Hunting? What, are you hunting?" Sam asked after he and (y/n) read off the letters. The pointer slides back to "YES"

"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting? Do, do you know what it is?" (Y/n) asked, worriedly

"One question at a time, guys." Dean said then he moves the pointer again. "What is it?" Sam and (y/n) asked and the pointer slides again during the following, to R, E, A, P. "I don't think it's killing people. I think it's taking them. You know, when their time's just up." Dean said and (y/n) gasped.

"A reaper. Dean. Is it after you?" She asked and the pointer slides to YES. "If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it." Sam said as Dean nods. "Yeah, you can't kill death." He said.

"Man, you're, um..." Sam stammers.

"I'm screwed, guys." Dean said and (y/n) starts to sob then shakes her head. "No. No, no, no, um, there's gotta be a way." She said as she stands up and starts to pacing. "There's gotta be a way." She said as Sam stands up.

"Dad'll know what to do." Sam said and he takes her hand and the two leave the room.

Sam and (y/n) enters John's room but they were greeted with an empty bed. "Dad." Sam whispered as (y/n) looks around, worried.

That night, Sam and (y/n) come back into Dean's room while Sam had John's journal in his hands. "Hey. So Dad wasn't in his room." Sam said as (y/n) sits on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Where is he?" Dean asked. "But I got Dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something here." Sam said and he flips open the journal and leafs through it, glancing up at Dean's unconscious form, occasionally, while (y/n) looks at Dean with worry.

Dean comes to stand behind Sam and reads over his shoulder. "Thanks for not giving up on me, guys." Dean said Sam turns to a page that says Reapers. (y/n) stands up and reads the page just as Dean leans over and reads something. His eyes go wide. "Son of a bitch." He growls and he leaves, stalking down the hallway until he sees...

Tessa is sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed differently. "Hi, Dean." She said. "You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last reaper I met." Dean said to her as he paces along the room.

"I was wondering when you would figure it out." Tessa said to him. "I should have known. That whole accepting fate rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out." Dean said to her. "It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want." She replied.

"What, is this like a turn-on for you? What, toying with me?" Dean asked her. "You didn't give me much choice. You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kinda hurts a girl's feelings. This was the only way I could get you to talk to me." She replied. "Okay, fine. We're talking. What the hell do you want to talk about?" He asked.

"How death is nothing to fear." She said as she goes up yo him and touches his cheek. "It's your time to go, Dean. And you're living on borrowed time already."

Sam was standing on the window side of Dean's bed, hands in his pockets, while (y/n) went to find some food. "Dean, are you here?" Sam asked as he looks around. "We couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help you. But we'll keep trying, all right?" Sam said, sadly. "As long as you keep fighting. I mean, come on you can't, you can't leave me here alone with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that. And poor (y/n)...she'd be crushed." He said then he looks down at Dean.

"Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Can you hear me?" He asked.

Dean was staring out a dark window. "Look, I'm sure you've heard this before, but...you've gotta make an exception, you've gotta cut me a break." Dean pleads to Tessa. "Stage three: bargaining." Tessa said. "I'm serious. My family's in danger. See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they need me." Dean said to her. "The fight's over." She said. "No, it isn't." Dean growls.

"It is for you. Dean. You're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same. They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong. The battle goes on without them." Tessa said to him. "My brother and (y/n). They could die without me." Dean said, desperately. "Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Nothing you can do about it. It's an honorable death. A warrior's death." Tessa said.

"I think I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks. I'm not that into prude chicks anyway." Dean said. "That's funny. You're very cute." Tessa said, smiling. "There's no such thing as an honorable death. My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die! No. I'm not going with you, I don't care what you do." Dean yells.

"Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent." She said and Dean turns to her, shocked.

"What are you saying?" He asked. "Dean. How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt." She said and Dean sits on the bed while she behind him. She strokes his hair tenderly.

"It's time to put the pain behind you." She said. "And go where?" Dean asked her. "Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline. Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?" She asked him.

As he turns to look at her, the lights start flickering, a familiar buzzing starts. "What are you doing that for?" Dean asked her. "I'm not doing it." She said. They both turn to a vent in the floor and see black demon ichor pour out of it.

"What the hell?" Dean asked while Tessa looks at it, shocked. "You can't do this! Get away!" She shouts at the black cloud.

"What's happening?!" Dean asked, frantically. Tessa screams as the demon flows into her mouth. She turns to Dean, her eyes glowing yellow. "Today's your lucky day, kid." She said and she places a hand on Dean's forehead; he convulses.

Sam was standing in the corner while (y/n), who had returned from the kitchen, was sitting on the bed just as Dean gasps, waking up suddenly and choking on the tube in his throat. "Dean?" (Y/n) said, shocked while Sam runs to the hallway. "Help! I need help!" He yells.

"I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you." The doctor said the next morning. "Thanks, doc." Dean said and the doctor leaves while Dean turns to Sam and (y/n).

"So you guys said a Reaper was after me?" Dean asked them. "Yeah." Sam and (y/n) said. "How'd I ditch it?" Dean asked them. "You got us." Sam said, shrugging.

"Dean, you really don't remember anything?" (Y/n) asked him. "No. Except this pit in my stomach. Guys, something's wrong." Dean said just as there was a knock at the door; and they look over to see John hovering in the doorway.

"How you feeling, dude?" John asked Dean. "Fine, I guess. I'm alive." Dean said and John nods. "That's what matters." He said.

"Where were you last night?" Sam asked him, angrily. "I had some things to take care of." John replied. "Well, that's specific." Sam growls. "Come on, Sam." Dean said, exasperated.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked John. "No." John said. "You know, why don't I believe you right now?" Sam asked as Dean and (y/n) shake their heads. "Can we not fight?" John asked, pleadingly, and Sam stares at him in shock. "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?" He said.

"John, are you all right?" (Y/n) asked him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired." John replied then he looks at Sam. "Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" He asked. "Yeah. Yeah, sure." Sam said and he leaves the room. (Y/n) looks between John and Dean, feeling that they need to talk. "I'll go with him." She said and she follows Sam out of the room.

John looks after them, sadly, as Dean looks at his father. "What is it?" He asked John. "You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd...You'd say It's okay, Dad." John said then he pauses as tears filled his eyes.

"Dean, I'm sorry." He whispers.

"What?" Dean asked, confused. "You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you." John said.

"This really you talking?" Dean asked. "Yeah. Yeah, it's really me." John replied. "Why are you saying this stuff?" Dean asked as John comes closer and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay? And for (y/n), too." John said. "Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me." Dean said, alittle confused and alittle scared. "Don't be scared, Dean." John said.

Then he leans over and whispers something into Dean's ear. Dean pulls back in shock, processing, while John leaves. Dean stares after him.

Sam and (y/n) walk back to the room, Sam carrying a cup of coffee. The two look into a room and see John on the floor. "Dad?!" Sam exclaimed, shocked. Dropping the cup, Sam runs to John's side, kneeling over him, while (y/n) screamed out for help.

Once again, a crowd of doctors and nurses attempt to resuscitate John. Dean, Sam and (y/n) hover in the doorway, and a nurse tries to push them out. "No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad!" Dean pleads and the nurse moves away as the trio watch. "Come on." Dean said, desperately.

"Okay, stop compressions." The doctor said.

"Come on, come on." Dean whispers as the nurse goes to get a pulse from John. "Still no pulse." She said and the doctor sighs. "Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 am." He said while the boys watch over, devastated, and (y/n) places her hands over her mouth.

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