#Jensen ackles x female reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebiggerbear · 4 months ago

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"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Jensen Ackles RPF Prompt Response

Summary: Jensen says something at a con that initially bothers you that prompts a conversation where you admit that there are certain parts of his job that you could easily do without, not sure how that's going to impact your friendship moving forward.

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen RPF prompt response project I've been working on the last month. I wasn't going to originally add Jensen RPF in there but I had an idea and had to see it through. Speaking of which, this was not the original idea I had lol but after catching up on the Comic Con panel, this idea popped into my head and overtook the other one. The other one I may turn into a future ficlet.

Also, I just want to make it clear that this is not criticism or commentary on what Jensen said at the panel mentioned here or anything else he has said previously or even of his career or persona. This is just a story idea, an exploration of a theme or thread that could be within that world if that makes sense.

This is a kind of sequel to "Come Pick Up Your Ghosts", and can be seen as a possible prequel leading up to "i want better for you...what's better for you than me?" or a standalone in that regard. Jensen and the Reader are still platonic here but if you squint, you might see a tiny little something. ;) Just to clarify, there is no cheating/infidelity going on here, implied, suggested, or otherwise.

All unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: No disrespect is meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I don’t know either of them or anyone connected to or associated with them. I merely take things from interviews, con videos, podcasts, and his public persona to create the “Jensen” seen here. This is purely for creativity and entertainment purposes. Just for fun.

Warnings: language; some angst; smidgen of humor

Word Count: 5372

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch

@rebel-paladin; @nancymcl

You can also read on AO3

Your assistant placed a file on your desk, grabbing your attention. “For the Whitman case.”

You briefly glanced up at her. “Great, Lauren, thanks.”

She nodded, picked up your empty coffee mug, and beat a hasty retreat to get you a refill, closing the door behind her. You couldn’t help but smile as you went back to your computer screen. Lauren had only been working for you a few months since Janice had retired, but she already seemed to be a great fit and had everything down pat.

You still missed your former assistant sometimes, though. Not only had you both worked together seamlessly for years, she had become a close friend and an almost motherly figure to you in times when you needed it most. You kept in touch and she invited you for holiday dinners, but as happy as you were that she was living her best life these days, there were still some moments that creeped up on you when you missed her dearly. And this morning just happened to be one such moment.

Your phone began to buzz with an incoming call. You glanced at the screen, huffing out an irritated breath at the name that popped up. Speaking of some sage motherly-like advice, you sure could use some right about now. Aggravation wasn’t your usual reaction to your best friend calling you, but this morning before you came to work, you had been catching up on some of the highlights of his panel the other day and there was one soundbite in particular that had you clicking your tongue in disappointment. You had briefly spoke to Jensen on Saturday night and he had texted you yesterday but you hadn’t known any of the specifics of how the panel went other than “It went well.” Not until you opened your newsfeed on your phone earlier and a headline popped out at you about Vought Rising and The Boys cast’s appearance on a Comic Con panel this weekend, with a video attached. That video led you to look up others until you finally arrived at the one that made you close everything out altogether and concentrate on finishing your coffee to hurry out the door.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance when your phone continued to vibrate and you hit the button on the bluetooth headset in your ear. “Hey,” you greeted curtly when the call connected. “I can’t really talk right now, Jensen. I’m about to meet with a client and—”

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Shit,” you silently mouthed to yourself and clenched your hands together. You then quietly cleared your throat. “I just told you. I have a full schedule this morning and I can’t—”

“Bullshit.”

Okay yeah, it was bullshit, he was right. Well, actually not entirely; you really had been trying to bury yourself in work since you arrived, earlier than normal (you’d even beat Lauren into the office), in order to prevent you from thinking about what he’d said and why it bothered you so much. “It is not bullshit,” you stated calmly, your jaw tensed. “I have a lot of work to do to prepare for court later this week. I told you that.”

“Y/N, you texted me early this morning, saying and I quote ‘Good morning, going to be super busy this week. Tons of work to do,’” he continued reading the message you had sent him before putting your phone on Do Not Disturb until about half an hour ago. “‘Hope you have a good shoot in Vancouver. Talk soon.’ Really?”

At that time, Lauren had decided to reappear with your new coffee. You gave her an appreciative nod and opened the file she had left for you, scanning the documents inside. “Yes, really. I just told you, I have a full week.” You waited until Lauren left and the door was closed once more. “I don’t see why that’s an issue.”

“You know damn well why.”

You expelled a quiet breath, telling yourself to bite your tongue and remain professional. It usually worked but Jensen had always had a way of getting under your skin.

“You knew I was going to call you once I got to set this morning. We even agreed on the best time for me to call.”

You did and you knew that your text was going to bother him once he received it, proven by him immediately trying to call you after you had sent it. But you just needed some space to think.

Jensen was up North shooting an episode for a series he was guesting on, coming off of Comic Con in San Diego. He had asked you if you wanted to go with him, since you had never been, but you had politely declined knowing you had an upcoming court case that you needed to prepare for. And now, having seen the video and heard what you did, you were glad you hadn’t taken him up on his offer. You would have been unable to hide your disappointment the entire time until you both went on separate flights, you going back home and him heading to Canada.

“What the hell, Y/N?”

“I’m just busy,” you muttered, gazing over the papers in front of you, pen in your hand, poised and ready.

“You forget how well I know you. That text is your polite way of saying ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ which means you’re pissed at me and you don’t want to talk.” You winced at his matter of fact tone. He wasn’t exactly wrong. “So again, what the hell?”

Now that he had you on the phone, calling you on your attempt at temporarily pushing him away via text, you started to examine just why you were annoyed with him — something you had been trying to avoid much like his attempts to contact you the last few hours. Suffice it to say, he wasn’t going to let this go, you both were bound to get into an argument, and then you were going to get the space you wanted, albeit a cold and tense space, until one of you caved and apologized. Something that had become somewhat of a routine in your friendship, though rare since you both usually got along very well.

So now that he was holding your feet to the fire per se, now that he was not letting you push him away so easily, you had to really think about why you were pissed, why your gut had clenched when you first heard the voice of your best friend come down the line, and why his careless off-the-cuff joke had bothered you so much.

“Y/N,” he spoke to you in a quieter tone than a moment ago. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and tossed your pen onto your desk, sitting back in your chair. Fuck it. “‘Old titties’? Really?”

There was a beat of awkward, tension-filled silence, before Jensen immediately filled it. “Wait a second. That’s what you’re pissed at me about?” He let out a laugh of disbelief. “Seriously?”

You flinched and immediately sat up straight, grabbing papers and loudly straightening them into a neat pile on your desk. “You know what? I have a court case to prepare for and I also have a 12:30 who just arrived. I have a full day, you have a full day of shooting, so let’s just end it here, shall we? Have a great week, Jensen, and good luck. Talk soon.”

The laughter immediately stopped. “Whoa, hold up a second. Y/N, don’t—”

His voice was cut off as you pressed the button on your headset and then grabbed it, tossing it angrily onto your desk. Your phone started to buzz again but this time, you snatched it up, put the call to voicemail, and powered down the device before dumping it into your handbag and shutting the drawer it sat in. You clicked a button on your office phone and a moment later, Lauren’s voice filled your office.

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I’m going to be working on the Whitman case for the next couple of hours so please hold all calls.”

“Absolutely. Would you like me to order lunch for you in the meantime?”

A little bit of your fury went out of you at her sweet offer. Right, you were a professional, and no matter how much your friend had just pissed you off, you wouldn’t allow it to affect your work. “That would be great, Lauren. Thank you,” you let out in a deflating and tired breath.

“Of course. If you need anything else in the meantime, Ms. Y/L/N, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the phone. “Thank you.” You clicked off the button and dropped your head in your hands. You could still hear Jensen’s laughter and “That’s what you’re pissed at me about? Seriously?” You couldn’t completely blame him for his reaction; you knew it was something small and stupid to be angry with him for. His response to Jeff’s question on that panel had nothing to do with you after all. But the minute he’d said those words, you couldn’t help but think back to that scene he had filmed with the two older actresses from season 3. Granted, a sexual attraction to much older women was part of Soldier Boy’s character, but at the time you’d watched that scene, while it had been amusing as it was meant to be, you couldn’t help but have respect for the two actresses willing to strip down and put themselves on display for the camera like that. That couldn’t have been easy, no matter the type of the career they had embarked on, and you were in awe, wishing you could have confidence like that when you reached that age. Hell, you could do with some of that confidence nowadays. You hadn’t had sex in forever and no one had seen your bare body outside of your doctors in the last five years or so. You also hadn’t been to the beach or any pools in that time so no one had exactly seen you in any swimwear either.

Truthfully, aging was a bit of a sensitive issue for you. Not in a superficial, skin deep kind of way, but very much in a holy-crap-my-body-is-starting-to-turn-against-me-with-every-single-year way. As you got older, you continued to have more and more compassion for your elders, knowing that someday you would eventually reach that phase of life yourself. It made you appreciate your present everyday life all the more, but that didn’t mean you liked being reminded of where you (and every single person on the planet) were eventually headed. So any new gray hairs you found; any sign of aging in your skin; the fact that you absolutely had to get up at least once a night to use the bathroom now, no exceptions; how you couldn’t go without at least 7 hours of sleep a night or you’d be exhausted the whole day and even sometimes still were, not to mention the day after that and the next — you weren’t exactly thrilled to get those reminders.

You knew what Jensen had said had nothing to do with you in the slightest and you weren’t narcissistic enough to act as if it had or take personal offense to it. Even though you had been disgusted at his choice of joke, you knew he was simply on and he was providing entertainment for the cast and crowd, like he always did. People laughed at the joke and you knew none of them viewed it the same way you did. Not one of them felt as if it was an unfair indictment of your sex when they got older (something that couldn’t be helped) or if it was a commentary of disgust at the average older woman’s body as she aged or even something completely misogynistic (and even if it was, it was in character which is usually what Jensen tended to aim for when doing these appearances). No, you knew it had been taken as a simple joke as you should have taken it but you couldn’t help your visceral reaction of irritation followed by massive disappointment in your friend.

The Jensen you knew was not the Jensen the world saw. In your friendship, you had gotten to know a very different person altogether. While he enjoyed garnering laughs from people and was very quick to make witty remarks and jokes that added to a pleasant atmosphere that he encapsulated, you found over time that you really didn’t care for his public persona at times. Or at least when it came down to things like that. You knew it came with the job he was in, but you much preferred your friend to the Jensen Ackles that was solely for public consumption and engagement. Which is why you supposed you never took him up on his offers of visiting sets he was on, attending any Hollywood events such as The Boys Season 3 premiere in Brazil, or even meeting him at any of the several conventions he had booked over the years. Early on in your getting to know him, you had trouble reconciling the man you saw privately with the man who sat up on those stages or in front of those cameras. There was nothing wrong with either of them but over time, you found you much preferred it when there were no cameras, no screaming fans, no celebrities or Hollywood executives around — just him.

That didn’t mean you didn’t support his career; of course, you did. He had been successful on this chosen path way before you ever met him and he loved doing it. How could you not cheer on your best friend in a job that not only was he good at but also made him happy? But God, sometimes you wished fame, PR, and performativity weren’t part of the package. Despite the very nature of the business he had chosen to be in.

You straightened up and pulled the Whitman file closer to you. He hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing that you should feel angry with him for, and you would apologize to him later. Right now, though, you needed to get your head back into your own career and prepare for court that would be happening in the next two days’ time.

This whole thing was going to have to wait. Until you could make sense of things for yourself at least.

You watched as the couple on your screen awkwardly flirted, popping a yogurt-covered raisin into your mouth. The film wasn’t one you would usually check out; romantic comedies weren’t really your thing, especially the ones made these days. But there had been a particular selling point that caught your eye, that then had you watching the trailer, and before you knew it, you were fully invested in the movie and actually laughing at some of the cringe-inducing moments but also blatantly honest humor present throughout the story.

You were so invested that you jumped when your phone began to loudly buzz on the coffee table. You paused the movie and leaned forward to glance at the screen that had just turned on with a notification, sighing tiredly when you saw the name on it.

You picked up your phone and clicked on the message.

Just got back to the hotel. Long day. I’ll be up for a bit though. Call me if you want.

You pressed your lips together, thinking it over for a moment. You still hadn’t spoken to Jensen since your terse call earlier and you had cowardly kept your phone off for the rest of the day. Which meant that when you turned it back on the minute you walked back in your door, you had several voicemail messages (two were from him) and quite a few text messages (most were from him) suddenly blowing up the device. Everything from justified disbelief to annoyance to explanations to apologies to requests for you to answer him saturated your last several text messages. You hadn’t responded to anything from him just yet; you had been waiting until you felt ready to embark on that conversation, not sure how much you wanted to delve into when you both had it. He would want to know exactly why that joke had upset you, as any other person naturally would, and you weren’t sure if you felt comfortable enough to tell him and dump some of that crazy of yours at his feet. You knew you weren’t crazy obviously, but how could you tell your best friend that his doing a part of his job (successfully you might add) bothered you? And that you got mad at him for it? What, was he supposed to change that up because it hurt your feelings or added to your discomfort with said part of his job? Now, that was crazy.

You took a deep breath, ate a few more raisins, sipped your water, and decided the hell with it. Time to face the music. You pressed the phone icon next to his name and put your bluetooth in, waiting for the call to connect as you braced yourself for any justified irritation you might encounter. You were going to rip the band-aid off and apologize; he deserved nothing less from you after you had avoided him all day.

“Hey,” his voice greeted you warmly, something you hadn’t been expecting. It completely disarmed you, especially when you could hear the exhaustion lacing his tone.

“Hey.”

“You ready to talk now?”

You hadn’t really been truly ready about a moment ago even though you were going to push through it. But now, hearing the tired voice of your best friend after a long day of not being able to talk to him because you felt like you couldn’t — yes, you were. “Um, yeah.”

“Good.” You could hear him shifting in the background, letting out a weary sigh as he presumably settled wherever he had moved to. “Are you going to tell me why?”

You bit at your lip. “I just didn’t care for it, I guess.” You then dropped your head into your hands. Oh God, you did sound crazy.

“Oh-kay. Was it the word choice? Because I only—”

“No. No, it…” You expelled your own sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It had nothing to do with any of that.”

“Then what did it have to do with?”

You chewed at your thumbnail, not really wanting to tell him since you would sound even worse than you already did.

“Y/N,” he prompted. “What pissed you off about it?”

You dropped your hand to your lap and shook your head. Fuck it. “I just hate the forced performativity sometimes, okay? I get it, it’s part of your job, and I need to just shut up and stay in my lane. But you’re my best friend, I care about you, and sometimes I really, really dislike watching or hearing that side of you. Which is exactly why I choose not to engage with that world you’re in. Because to me, no matter how good you are at your job, and you’re incredible at it obviously, that performative bullshit isn’t you. Not the you I’ve gotten to know, anyway, and certainly not at that level. Like, sure, you try to make people laugh all the time and crack jokes, and I know you were probably a little nervous being on that panel so you had to break the ice somehow, I get it, but Jesus, Jensen. I just…” You let out another sigh and pinched the bridge of your nose, clenching your eyes shut. “I’m just not a fan of when you have to tap into that. I feel like sometimes you say things for the audience’s sake that just make me cringe sometimes and that I just can’t get behind. And that pisses me off because I want to support you but when you say shit like that, like some of the soundbites you’ve had these past few months, I just can’t. And I hate that, because I know that’s not you. And I absolutely fucking hate how judgmental I know I’m being right now but I can’t help how I feel. So that is what pissed me off about that stupid, insensitive, frat boy-ish, sexist, and quite frankly ageist joke, okay?”

A deafening silence filled the conversation then and you mentally cursed at yourself. Great. Well, this might be the end of your friendship and where you two parted ways. While the idea of it broke your heart, you couldn’t really blame him. You had just unleashed an incoherent rant of a word salad that anyone might take a second look at the concept of continuing a friendship with you for. You had called him to apologize…how had you gone this far off the intended track?

“Okay.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Okay?”

“Y/N,” he started gently, sounding like some guy on a nature documentary or something who was trying to soothe a wild animal into not seeing him as a threat. “It was meant to be a joke for the character. Just something to make people laugh while staying in character.”

“I know that. I get it, but—”

“There’s nothing more to it than that for me. We were promoting the prequel, promoting the last season, they even had me sit next to Ant since we’re going to dive deep into the whole Soldier Boy and Homelander dynamic when production picks back up. That’s all it was.”

Guilt and shame started to gnaw at you. He had explained these things to you, back when you were getting to know him, and he took you through the ins and outs of his job — even the things the public didn’t see or know about too much.

“As for the other stuff, I have to be honest, I’m not really sure what to say. I know you’re not crazy about any of it. I’ve known that for a while now. Every time you turn me down when I ask you to come to one of these things, always with the excuse of work or having to go to court. I didn’t push you on it because I figured maybe someday you’d be comfortable enough to say yes and let me show you how it all works. I get what you’re saying, I do…but, it’s my job, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment brought you up short and then made you feel even worse. It’s not that he hadn’t used it before, but something about the sad resignation that coated his voice right then caught your attention. What did he feel resigned to? “I know,” you whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” His voice sounded a little thicker than before that had your brows knitting together. If you didn’t know any better, he sounded slightly upset. Perhaps this had definitely been a step too far and he was now going to give you the boot. Or perhaps it was something else…something else he hadn’t told you yet that was bothering him and that’s why he had wanted to talk to you today when he asked yesterday what the best time to call you was. Oh shit.

“Jensen?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and you could hear him moving again, presumably sitting up. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You let out a quiet breath of relief when he sounded better than he had a moment ago. “Yeah.” You let a moment pass before you asked, ”You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Another minute of silence happened, slightly less tense than before but a little more awkward. Like neither of you knew where to go from here and you both were waiting for the other to break it to give you some sort of direction.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that it?” His voice broke at the end of his question but he cleared his throat once more. “Are we…done?”

It suddenly hit you what he was really asking, why he sounded so resigned earlier. Your heart broke a little more at the realization and you silently cursed yourself again. Instinctually, you knew exactly what to say to lead you both out of this pool of uncertainty you had unwittingly pushed you both into. You let out an amused snort. “Dude, you saddled me with an angry poltergeist that cost me a small fortune in repairs and I didn’t show you the door then. What makes you think I would now just because you were doing your job?”

Another moment of quiet passed and you started to worry that you had ruined everything when he finally responded with, “I can’t believe you’re still going on about that. And I offered to pay for those repairs even though we both know ghosts don’t really exist.”

Your lips relaxed into a relieved smile. “Says the ghost magnet who knows they do exist.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered into the phone. “How is it that a successful lawyer like yourself still believes in that crap?”

“Probably because said crap destroyed my house while I had to stay in a hotel for two weeks. And how is it that a guy who played a ghost hunter for fifteen years, who dropped a very real ghost on my doorstep and saw the damage it did live on facetime still doesn’t believe in that crap?”

“Because they don’t exist.”

“They do.”

“They don’t.”

“They do and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t let me smudge you every time you drop by.”

“I only let you do that because it makes you happy and this way I only have to hear ten times that night how I supposedly brought a temperamental ghost the last time I walked in without being cleansed, compared to the usual fifty if I don’t.”

“Oooh, buddy, guess what you’re getting for Christmas this year,” you teased. “I’m placing the order online right now.”

“Christ,” he mumbled. “Don’t you dare or you know what I’ll be sending you in return.”

“You better not. I’ll hand deliver it to your doorstep and let your ghost friends have fun with it and you.” You weren’t really going to mass order sage and send it to him like you had threatened a few times before which had prompted him to threaten to send you several ouija boards in retaliation. Your friendship was a strange one sometimes, you’d be the first to admit it, but truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thinking about that, your smile faded and you pressed your lips together. “Jensen?”

“Mmm?”

“I really am sorry.” You truly were. You felt badly for even getting pissed at him in the first place. You still weren’t entirely sure why seeing him like that bothered you so much, despite already knowing the performativity was part of his job. It didn’t change the Jensen you knew and when he was on, it didn’t affect you. So why would it disturb you that deeply? You refused to look at it any closer, though; you had done enough living in your head for one day. And right now, you wanted to make things right with your best friend.

“It’s okay.” From the way he said it, you knew he was telling the truth. “But can you promise me one thing?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Can you just…talk to me next time and not ice me out like you did? I was wracking my brains all day trying to figure out why that joke would bother you enough for you to clam up and push me away like you did. You’ve never done that before, no matter how pissed off I made you or whatever arguments we’ve had, and I just— I need for you to talk to me when that happens. No matter how pissed you are. I know that you need your space sometimes, I do too, but…don’t shut me out. Not like that. Okay?”

“Okay,” you choked out, clearing your throat and scrubbing a tear from your cheeks. You were definitely not on the verge of crying. Not at all.

“We’re still going to talk about the job thing but I’d rather do that in person if you don’t mind,” he murmured. “I don’t really want to have that conversation over the phone.”

“Okay,” you repeated.

After a moment he asked, “So, what are you up to right now?”

You wiped away another tear that was absolutely not rolling down your cheek. “Um, just watching a movie.”

“Oh yeah? What movie?”

“Uh, Anyone But You? The new Glen Powell movie on Netflix?”

“Glen Powell,” he scoffed, making you smile when you heard his tell-tale annoyance at the mention of your current celebrity crush. While you both loved the Top Gun movies, something you had in common, he had finally figured out why you wanted to watch the sequel more times than the original. He would literally grumble and wear his grumpy Dean expression, much like you imagined he was now. Sure enough, he grumbled, “What do you see in that guy?”

You couldn’t help but huff out a chuckle. “Everything you don’t.” You stared at the image on the screen of a shirtless, wet Glen that you had paused on. “Like lots and lots of muscles,” you answered honestly as you eyed the fine looking man on your television. You were biting your lip again but this time for a whole other reason.

“Muscles,” he muttered.

“And the most gorgeous green eyes you’ve ever seen,” you added.

“Seriously?”

“And a killer smile. Plus, he’s from Texas, did you know that? Austin, your old neck of the woods.” You knew he knew all of this but you couldn’t resist needling him a little. His reactions were always amusing as hell.

“Oh yeah, I know,” he said in a mocking tone that betrayed that he was less than thrilled at your listing off of Glen’s attributes.

“You know, maybe I should take you up on your offer to go to one of these public events if he’s also going to be there.”

“That’s why you would finally say yes?”

“Among other things,” you teased.

“If I find out he’s going to be there, I’m not inviting you.”

“Jensen!”

“I’m just kidding…maybe.”

“You better be,” you growled.

“Yeah, yeah. Glen Powell,” he muttered again, making you smirk. “Lots and lots of muscles, green eyes, killer smile, from Texas…” An aggravated sigh came down the line. “Fine. What part of the movie are you on?”

“No, you have to watch it from the beginning. I’ll watch with you.” You eagerly clicked out of the movie and went back to its menu.

“So you can see more of Glen’s fine muscles?”

“It’s about the definition, not the bulk.”

“Uh huh.” He faked a gagging sound, making you chuckle. “You’re lucky I care about your happiness, Y/N. That’s the only reason I’m even indulging in this ogle fest masquerading as a chick flick.”

“Hey, it’s not a chick flick and Sydney Sweeney is in it, too, so don’t act like this great selfless sacrifice you’re making is going to be hellish torture for you.”

“Sydney Sweeney? Now, why didn’t you start out with that? Hell yes, we’re watching this movie. Let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and smiling. Typical. “You ready?”

“Not sure how long I’m going to last before it puts me to sleep, but yeah, ready when you are.”

“Okay.” You pressed the start button and saw the familiar production logos pop up.

A moment later you heard, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you laid your head down on your couch pillow. “Me, too.” And you were. Regardless of anything else, no matter your disagreements past or present, first and foremost he was your best friend. As he began to tease you when Glen first appeared on screen, you couldn’t help but smile; in the end, that was all that mattered.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

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#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles fanfiction #thebiggerbear writes #what do you see in him? everything you don't #jensen ackles rpf

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soaringeag1e · 11 months ago

Text

Time

Jensen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Sadness, Heartache, injuries, Blood, Sweet Caring Jensen {I know, doesn't seem really Christmasy haha, sorry, not sorry.}

Words: 2,252

Main Masterlist - Patreon

She spent the day putting up her tree and decorating her apartment, keeping busy and trying to keep her mind off other things. She desperately wanted to feel the spirit of Christmas, feel excited and cheerful, but those moments didn’t last long unfortunately. Even with lights hanging throughout the space, her tree bright green and sparkling with twinkling white bulbs, she just wasn’t feeling it.

She was sucked in by the lights on the tree as they took turns lighting up, a few knocks going unnoticed as she was spacing out, lost in her thoughts. It takes a few more attempts from her visitor before she finally gets pulled out of her trance and hears the thuds against her door.

Glancing down at the glass in her hand, the melted ice tells her that she’s been spacing out for a lot longer than she thought, but that doesn’t surprise her honestly. Setting her holiday drink on the table, she moves towards her door where a few more knocks come through. Peeking through the peephole, she grows a bit confused when she sees who it is and quickly pulls on the locks to reveal her friend on the other side. He gets startled after the long dragged out silence but smiles when they lock eyes nonetheless.

“Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t home.”

“No, I just um…” she pauses, looking back into her apartment to where she was glued just seconds ago. “I’m sorry.” she apologizes in a quiet breath, hesitating to look her visitor in the eye before changing the subject. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were in New Mexico working on…” When she can’t continue her sentence he raises his brow, a smartass smirk growing on his face.

“Big Sky?”

“Yes! That.” She looked embarrassed as she couldn’t remember the name of the show he was currently involved with.

“Well, it’s nice to know that you’re so into it.” he tells her, the sarcasm not going unnoticed.

“Hey, I’ve been busy.” she counters, letting him in the apartment. “And I’m halfway through season two now, so…”

“So…you haven’t even made it to my episode. Good to know.”

“Did you just come here to give me a hard time? Because I’ve had enough of that this year.” Her tone changes as she closes the door. “Best friend or not, I’m just not in the mood.” As she roughly rubs at her eyes, his heart sinks. The relationship he has with her has always been playful. It was his job to mess with her and it always made her smile, but sadly he has underestimated the pain she has taken on in the last year and hasn’t adjusted his teasing accordingly.

Her body flinches just a tad when he slides his arms around her, but she quickly melts into him, dropping her arms into his chest and letting him squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers faintly, kissing her temple sweetly but never loosens his grip. He feels her relax more in his arms, the tension he could feel in her entire body slowly slipping away the longer he holds her. Minutes pass and he doesn’t know how many, but honestly doesn’t care. But what she says next fills his heart with pride.

“I needed one of your hugs today.” He can hear the emotion in her voice but knowing that he was able to bring something good to her keeps his happiness up. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You always seem to know when I need you the most and I don’t get it.” Jensen smirks, his pride only being fueled more.

“Magic.” he tells her as he pulls away, locking eyes with her. “If I told you my secret, I’d have to kill you.”

“Please, do.” She comes back with a not so sarcastic response and Jensen just has to remind himself that pain and anger makes people say that kind of stuff. It wasn’t long ago that he felt the same way.

“Can’t do that. Sorry.”

“Why?” she whines, dropping her head to his chest.

“Because you mean too much to me.” he says simply, but the feelings behind it are anything but. Which in turn makes the next few moments painful even for him.

She scoffs and pulls away from him, moving towards the table where her drink waits, the ice practically gone now.

“With the group of friends you have? Trust me, you won’t be missing me long.” He swallows back his initial reaction, pushing the sting his heart took way down and attempts to forget about it.

“You’re wrong.” There’s no joking in his gaze now, not that she expected it. But she doesn’t see that look often and it was definitely one that hit her hard. “Listen,” he starts before taking a few steps closer to her. “I know what you’re going through is hard and I know you’re hurting, but I promise that it will get better.” Honestly, he expected an eye roll or something, but it seemed that she understood he was being serious. “He may not know what he lost but we do, and we won’t make that same mistake.” Her eyes dropped to her drink, emotions coming to the surface again. He’s not sure what to say now because he’s finally let go of some of the things he’s been holding in. At least the more appropriate things. But as he scans the apartment and sees the tree all dressed up in the corner, he smiles, grateful that you were able to at least decorate for the holiday.

“It looks great.” he points out, stepping around her to get closer to the holiday staple. “I was afraid you weren’t going to decorate at all.” he admits, not taking his eyes off the twinkling lights.

“I almost didn’t.” she confesses, not moving from her spot. “But, I was hoping that it would help pull me out of this a little bit.”

“I think it will.” he nods softly as he turns back to face her.

“I don’t know about that.” she tells him, emotion heavy in her voice. “It hasn’t done anything so far.”

“Just give it time.”

“Ugh.” she grunts heavily, spinning around to make her way into the kitchen. “Time. It’s always about time, right!?” She raises her voice a bit as she makes it to the counter and pours more alcohol into her glass. “After being torn away from your family as a kid, give it time. You lose someone you love, give it time. Your husband cheats on you and throws away sixteen years of your life, give it time!” she cries, tears slipping from her eyes as Jensen makes his way towards her. Her body trembles from anger but she tosses back the liquid she just added to the glass, not really bothered by the strength of the drink. “You know what they all have in common, Jay!? No matter how much time you give them, they never go away! Ever!” she screams, slamming her glass down onto the counter as the anger she was feeling made her lose all control over her actions. Seeing this, Jensen surges forward but it all happens way too fast.

The second the glass touches the counter top, it shatters. Chunks of the glistening pieces fly across the counter in all directions, falling to the floor and sliding with their momentum. But it was the painful cry that Jensen was focused on. Glass crunched under his boots as he rushed to her side, blood dripping onto the counter and the fallen shards of glass as she raised her hand to see what she just did to herself.

“Let me see.” Fully concerned, he reaches for her hand, gentle so as not to hurt her more than she already was. She quietly huffs and moans in pain as he inspects it. It takes him a moment to see how bad it is and he becomes grateful when it doesn’t look like she needs stitches, but he does see a piece of glass sticking out from her wound. He glances up briefly, seeing that she’s only focusing on the cut. “Hold still.” he tells her before carefully removing the shard from her hand. She hisses in pain but it needed to be done. “Here, come here.” Keeping her hand elevated, he swipes the towel from the counter and then escorts her into the living room, helping her onto the couch. “Keep it up, I’ll be right back.”

Careful not to slip on the glass near the kitchen, Jensen rushes down the hall and into her room. He’s gone maybe thirty seconds, if that. He’s been in her house before, he knows where everything is. Especially the first aid kit. This wasn’t the first time he had to patch her up after hurting herself, but this definitely was the worst injury he’s had to help her with.

“Alright, let me see.” he says as he re-enters the room. Grabbing onto your coffee table, he pulls it closer to the couch and then takes a seat, situating himself so that he could fix you up without having you stretch your arm out too far.

“I’m sorry.” you whimper softly and he glances up through his lashes before focusing back on your hand.

��You don’t have to be sorry.” It falls silent after that for a bit. She flinches a few times as he cleans up the wound and checks to see if any more glass was hiding inside, but otherwise he gets it as clean as he can and then starts to bandage it up.

“You’re right.” he finally breaks the silence, not looking up from his task as he continues. “It never does go away.” he admits and then falls quiet again. But only for a minute or two. “But, eventually you will get to a place where you won’t think about it as much. And if you do, it won’t hurt as bad as it does now.” Silent sobs shake her body a bit as she listens to him, the pain of what she’s been through tearing through her more than that glass did to her hand. “Listen,” he says as he tapes off the bandage, making sure it’s secure and then he looks up at her. “Your scumbag husband lost his fucking mind.” The anger is visible in his gaze, but she knows it’s not meant for her. “To have one of the most amazing women on this planet choose him and love him and do anything for him just to turn around and…” his jaw locks as he reminds himself to keep calm. But that’s just something he can’t do fully.

“Fuck him. Okay? You deserve a million times better than him. You deserve someone who cares about you and takes care of you just as much as you do for them. No more of this eighty, twenty shit, you hear me?” Tears continue to slip from her eyes and though he knows they won’t stop, he reaches up and wipes a few away anyway. “So, yeah, it’s going to take time and it’s going to hurt like hell, but I swear to you, somewhere down the road you are going to look back at this and see how much of a blessing this was. You’re going to be able to wake up every morning and not feel like death when you roll out of bed. You’ll be able to drive home, take showers and fall asleep without crying every time. Right now, it doesn’t seem possible, I know, but it will happen. I promise you.”

Silence fills the apartment after that. The two of them soaking in the speech and just letting the moment be for a minute. Then Jensen reaches up and wipes away her tears again, this time clearing her face as no more were falling at the moment.

“Ready to get some sleep?” Unable to speak, she just nods softly. “Alright.” pushing himself up from the table, he helps her up and escorts her to the edge of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go and climb in bed, I’m gonna…” he pauses, looking over all the glass everywhere. “I’m gonna clean this up.” When he looks back at her, he gives her his best grin. She takes it and slowly turns and starts walking down the hall, but she stops a few feet away, looking back at the man in the kitchen, setting the dustpan on the counter and beginning to sweep the floor.

“Jensen?” Hearing his name, he stops. “Thank you.” A smile grows on his face and he sends her a nod. But when she doesn’t move, he pushes her a bit.

“Go on. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” This time, he watches her walk down the hall and disappear into her room.

The feelings he’s harbored for her for so long now have a chance to come out, but he has to hold them back for a while longer. Yes, she may be single now, but with the healing that she has to go through, he can’t be jumping in the deep end right away. The last thing he wants is to become the rebound or end up hurting her even more because he gave into his desires too soon.

He loves that woman, more than he realizes to be honest. So the only way to keep her is to wait. To give it time.

#Time #Christmas #jensen ackles #jensen fanfic #jensen fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen x female reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female reader #jensen fic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural rpf

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years ago

Note

Drunk and/or high sex? W/ Dean or Jensen 😇🙏🏼

A/N: Picked Jensen for this since I already had a bunch of Dean requests! I imagined New Orleans in summer for this and thought the "love drug" was quite fitting. It was kinda inspired by the story of how Alison Brie started things with Dave Franco, which she told in a recent interview. Thought that was hilarious, so of course I had to use it. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking & drugs (weed & mdma), flangst, smut (thigh riding, p in v)

Word Count: 1.4k (I'm really trying here lol)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Lavender Haze

There’s a visible haze flowing through the room, a midnight blue veil with particles of shimmering glitter in between that glistens like the night sky outside the French window. It feels surreal, like the fabric of the stars itself is blanketing you, enveloping your entire being as his plump lips touch every inch of your skin, ignite it as he worships your body. The entire universe is suddenly in your room.

The air smells of sweat, a mixture of drinks lingering on your breaths, and the damp summer heat that filters in through the open window despite the cool night air. You can’t remember how you got back to your hotel; too many shots have been downed tonight to care. Did you take a cab? Did you walk the busy streets till you landed back here? All of the above?

All you remember is the laughs, the music, the drinks, and the joint you shared with a friend in a dark alley. You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d land here – with him. More drinks flowed, his irresistible smile blinded you, and a few clumsy touches of his hands on places where he had never touched you before kindled your heart and soul. He was a kid playing with matches, too stupid, too innocent to know what he was doing, what dangerous game he started to play, and you were drunk enough to set both your bodies ablaze without wasting a second thought on it.

It was a harmless text from your friend that started this whole mess: Jensen – I think you should hit that tonight. Of course, your blurry mind thought it was a glorious idea. After all, you had wanted this, wanted him for a long time now.

You never thought he’d say yes, but if you were honest with yourself, you were always scared to ask in case he did agree to your insanity, knowing you weren’t good enough, knowing you’d only ruin it, knowing you could never dream this big. Maybe that’s why you posed the most outlandish question you could think of, hoping with certainty he’d deny your request and gently turn you down.

“I have a Molly… Wanna split it and have some fun in my hotel room?”

It wasn’t like him to agree to something like this. Maybe you’ve always been a bad influence on him, but you were still majorly surprised when he didn’t even blink. He just smirked at you and nodded like it was the million-dollar question he’d been waiting for.

And yes, maybe you knew he wanted you just the same, knew he harbored a crush on you for years, knew he craved the same things you craved. It’s been written in the stars since the two of you met and caught each other’s eyes for the very first time. But call it Southern gentlemanliness or whatever, in all these years, he never made a single move – not obvious ones, at least. True to form, he was never pushy, always waiting for your pull. And God, once you handed him that rope, he lassoed you like the coolest cowboy and tied you up good.

When your back hits the door, your lungs are barely able to catch a breath as Jensen is on you the second you enter the hotel room, scared if he gave you any wriggle room, you’d leave, even though you’d never dream of it. His ample lips find yours first, claiming you in a bruising kiss that leaves you speechless. You’ve kissed before, sharing the odd professional movie kisses between your characters on a set with an audience, but this kiss is entirely different.

Real. Raw. Breathtaking.

Then, his sinful lips trail down your jaw, find your throat, and mark your pulse point purple, green, and blue. His addicting hands have been on you nonstop since you each downed that little love drug with a bottle of water. It started with minute touches – his large palm on the small of your back when he guided you out of the bar, his warm hand on your knee in the back of the cab, his fingertips trailing up and down your spine in the elevator, and by the time, you’ve unlocked the door, he was ready to downright bounce on you. He loves touching you, loves to feel your skin ignite like a chemical reaction underneath his fingertips whenever the two connect.

His aura is emerald – soft, lush, and full of hope. Relaxing. Safe.

Yours is lavender – mysterious, sensitive, and full of passion. Inspiring. Chaotic.

With every touch and every kiss, his aura intoxicates yours, infecting every vein in your body until each drop of blood feels fused to his. A haze of green and purple, inseparable by the end. It’s surreal in the best way.

The tips of your fingers tingle whenever they smooth over an inch of cinnamon-freckled skin. He’s hot to the touch, his warmth swaddling you like a snuggly blanket that feels like childhood memories and home. You never want to let go. This feeling should last forever. The strong heartbeat behind his ribs tells you he feels the same.

His knee sneaks between your legs as his hand crawls inside your panties and finds an ocean waiting for him there. His groans reverberate against your skin, your throat, your chest as you needily seek more friction on his thigh, grinding your clothed cunt against the rough denim fabric as his thick thumb strokes your clit.

“God, this is so hot… you’re so hot,” he murmurs against your neck, his free hand pushing parts of your shirt and bra down to grope one breast, pinching the nipple between his fingertips until it hardens. “Wanted this for so long… So, so long…”

“Me too,” you whisper breathlessly, your cloudy brain torn between an orgasm and a love confession.

His attacks on your tit and cunt seize and still, his head slowly rising as he finds your gaze. The look in his eyes is overflowing with surprise, desire, and hope, showing a longing that’s finally sated. The hand on your breast leaves its place and cups your cheek, caressing it with gentle care.

“Yeah?”

A smile twitches on your lips as you nuzzle your nose against his and nod. “Yeah,” you admit your secret. “Of course, it is. All I need is you. I just wanna stay here forever with you.”

Jensen’s lips curl into a smile, one that hides something behind it you can’t decipher. “Good,” he says and entangles you in a kiss so deep it leaves you breathless once more as he sucks the air from your lungs while you start to think that this might be the sweetest death you could’ve ever imagined.

His hands grab your thighs, lift you up until your legs wrap around his waist. His full-grown erection presses against your pussy as you grab and bite and hold onto whatever of him you can get between your hands and mouth. Clothing items drop in haste, not sure who removes what from where, but you’re positive your lips part as he enters you in one thrust until his long, thick cock is fully sheathed by your heat, stretching your walls like no one ever has before. The delicious burn, the pleasurable sting between your thighs is a new feeling you could find yourself growing quite addicted to.

“Shit, ’m sorry…,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck at his eagerness and apologizes for his temporary loss of control, which you find quite flattering as his cock throbs inside of you while his fingers gently caress your head and comb through your hair to soothe the bits of pain you feel. “I love you,” he whispers softly against your lips and claims them in the same breath.

You smile shyly, happiness wrangling with sadness inside your heart. “It’s the drugs,” you tell him and excuse his irrational behavior, having been through this circle a few times before.

However, he shakes his head with all the stubbornness he can gather and cups your cheek, thumb caringly brushing over its rosy apple. “No, it’s you, sweetheart. Promise,” he assures you.

With a thick swallow, you nod and drop a tear on his thumb pad. “Okay… I love you, too,” you accept and cry out as he pushes back inside and never stops again.

Considering the other drabbles I did up till now and the nature of this request, this turned out oddly romantic and sweet *pats self on back* 🥰

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

#dirty drabbles #jensen ackles x female reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles smut

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kazosa · 2 years ago

Text

Wildwood Sequel: Interlude

Summary: Jensen and the reader are in a soft, blissful part of their relationship before reality fully kicks in. They go back to Y|N’s house, with the touches she added with Jensen in mind, to slowly ease back into the swing of their lives. They have a lot to do before they go to Texas, like breaking the news to Y|N’s mother and brother. Jensen still has some secrets to reveal.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x female reader

Word count: 18429

Warnings: really covers the gammut... swearing, drinking, yelling, jealousy...

a/n: this is pure fiction in regards to the real life celebrities. They are merely a face-grab for characters of my creation.

Tags: @coffee-obsessed-writer @leigh70 @sandlee44 @coldhearted93 @djs8891 @magssteenkamp @babykalika2001 @ladysparkles78 @supernatural3002

The dog days of summer were ending and it felt more like fall the morning when they left Wildwood. He’d taken care of the cabin the night before and even cleaned out the fireplace. It meant there would be no heat running in the cabin, but he and Y|N had found ways to stay warm. Going back to reality would be an adjustment to both of their lives and he was confident they would figure it out together.

Before Y|N got to the cabin, he’d been so out of sorts. He couldn’t make any sense about what to do about his situation. Then, as time passed, he was beginning to wonder if she would find him. When he finally realized it was her walking down his road, the relief set in. The giant, swirling abyss dissipated. She, somehow, always would show up when he needed her most. Sure, he’d given her a clue, but she showed up. She still cared.

He looked over at the passenger seat where she sat in his truck. She’d only gotten more beautiful as time had passed. He couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her and she’d caught him more than once. Y|N would smile a little, tuck her hair behind her ear and look down. When he would catch her watching him, he knew she still had some kind of feelings for him, too. Even if it was pure lust, or just pent-up years of desire, he would take it because he had been holding them in, too. He really couldn’t get enough of her.

They were basically driving into the sun, but it didn’t bother her too much. She had her head down, writing in the notebook she’d forced him to stop to buy. It was bright enough that she still wore sunglasses as she wrote and the sun gave her hair a halo. His angel. Once in a while, she would whisper two sides of a conversation, or other bits of dialog before putting the pen back to the paper to continue the flurry of writing. She went on like that for a couple hours before she lost some speed.

She turned yet another page in the notebook and wrote something at the top of the page before she finally gave him her attention again.

“Okay, we need to talk about some stuff. I need your opinion on things,” she said.

“God, finally,” he said. “You’ve been so quiet, except for whispering dialog, I thought you forgot me.”

“Oh honey, I could never forget about your fine self. Look at you, you sexy sonofabitch,” she said. She smirked when she saw how pink his ears got. “I was writing so I could get the scene out of my head so I could get to you.”

“Get to me?”

“I’m starting a new book in a series I do and I want your input,” she explained.

“I thought you were never going to use me as your smut muse?” he said. “I think we have a pretty good story going.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” she said, “you really are adorable. Let me ask you this, have you read any good books lately?”

“Not lately, but yeah. It’s this guy, a lawman, who fell from grace, gets a job as sheriff in some backwoods area during prohibition, tries to take down bootleggers and other bad guys…”

“... encounters some weird shit in the woods and has an eye for the lady that runs the diner?” she finished for him.

“Yeah, you know the books?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, it hit him. “Are you telling me you’re Ross Black?”

You laughed, “Yeah. Honestly, I thought you knew. I did kind of make it obvious.” You waited as he thought it over. “It’s basically you and all of the cool western lawmen and broken lead characters. Dean, Clint, you, Longmire. Rolled ‘em all up to make Hobart Gibson. Hell, I even gave him your physical description.”

“Hold on,” he raised his index finger at you as he drove. “I need to process this.”

You patiently waited for him to think it all through.

“So, you’re Nova Scott, who, from what I can tell since I’m not allowed to read the books, is on par with Nicholas Sparks and Danielle Steel, and have published however many of those…”

“...about a dozen,” you answered.

“A handful have been made into major motion pictures. Not only am I not in any of those movies, I’m also not the muse. And yet, every single one had some big name in it and made a shitload of money.”

“Are you telling me you want to do a romance movie?”

“No. …I don’t know… maybe?”

“Well, what do you think of Whiskey Hollow and Bart Gibson?” you asked. You’d spent a lot of time and energy getting the character just right.

Jensen looked at you a moment, “He’s a total badass. I love how salty he is, but is soft for Lill.” He paused, “You ever gonna get them together?”

“Do you think they should?” you already had it in the plans but you wanted to hear his opinion.

“She’s obviously in love with Bart.”

“It’s obvious?”

“Every time Bart goes to the diner, Lill personally makes his favorite sandwich and gives him a cookie. If she didn’t love him…”

“... no cookie?” you grinned.

“No cookie,” he tipped his head, his eyes still on the road. “Sugar was precious in the depression. You don’t just slip random people a cookie.”

“Unless she’s in love?”

“Unless she’s in love.”

“Is that why you give me ring-pops, ‘cause you’re in love with me?”

He looked directly at you before switching back to the road and back to you again, “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Depends on your answer.”

“Have I given you more than one?”

“Jay, you don’t forget much. I know you remember.” There have been many over the years.

He sighed. “I knew it was a trap,” he muttered. “You already know I love you.”

You nodded, “I know that.”

“Is Bart going to make a move on Lill? Are you getting any movie options offers coming in?” he asked.

“Lillian isn’t going to make the first move, I can tell you that much. If he has any kind of warm fuzzies for her, he has to tell her. Cookies and ring-pops won’t cut it. They’re gestures, she wants to hear him say it.”

“He’s not going to say it just because she wants to hear it. If he’s going to tell her he’s in love with her, he’ll do it when he’s ready.”

“Nearly three decades isn’t enough time to work up the nerve?”

“I knew we weren’t talking about Bart and Lill anymore…” he let out a sound of annoyance.

“Who do you think Hobart and Lillian are, Jay?”

“We were only able to get together a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen you in person in over three years. If we, you and I, are going to be together, I want to do things the right way and that means taking things one step at a time, getting familiar with each other again.”

“Don’t I get a say in this? Relationships are give and take and I feel like I’m doing all the giving. I left my job to come find you. I know I don’t need the job, but that isn’t the point. That’s a burnt bridge.”

“Just like you can’t demand I tell you I’m in love with you. If I want to say it, I will when I’m ready. Individually, you and I have been through too much shit to not try to give us the best shot possible and that’s exactly what I want to do. Are you going to do the same or are you going to keep fucking pushing?”

“Knowitall,” you grumbled.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re the same way. You’re one of the smartest people I know, but you also know you’re smart and don’t leave room for other people’s opinions.”

“Even if they’re wrong?”

“See?” he raised his index finger and wagged it in your direction. “That right there. That’s why it’s an opinion. Just because it’s different from yours, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“Oh really? You sure were vocal when you thought I was wrong about things,” you countered.

“When?! Examples.”

“Every single guy I dated was either an asshole or a douchebag, as you were all too happy to point out.”

“But they were douchebags and assholes. Knew from the start Grant was a manchild freeloader.”

“That may be true, but in that case, your opinion was irrelevant because he was my choice. And not all of them were bad guys, they just weren’t a good match for me.”

“And that’s what makes them douchebags.”

“You married the one I told you was a stuck-up, snobby-assed bitch. What’s really got a bug up your ass, Jay? Seems like we both made dumb choices in the name of love.”

He went silent. You weren’t entirely sure if you’d really made him mad or not. He had both hands on the wheel and slightly tipped back, the expression on his face was changing from annoyed to resolve over and over again.

“Jesus, I can see you thinking in there. You're gonna say what’s on your mind or do you need to pull over and walk it off?” your tone was still snotty.

He clenched his jaw and you decided, maybe too late, to shut up and cool off, yourself, while you rode in silence. He needed to do the same, you supposed. You forgot that he liked to take time to think things through. You should have known not to push him so hard. He needed the time to consider all options and you were more in the moment and needing immediate action.

“Hey,” you wanted to apologize, but the truck began to slow down. He might have needed to walk it off after all. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t say anything, he only pulled over and stopped the truck, putting it in park. He got out and you watched as he walked around the front and came to your door.

He flung open your door, “I take it back.”

Confused, you asked, “Take what back?”

“When I said we shouldn’t try to be together because of our careers. When I said it wasn’t “our time” I was full of shit then and I knew it. I wanted you. I always wanted you. I knew that Christmas at my parents’ house that I didn’t want to let you go. When you told my mom we were just friends? I didn’t like it. All of those boyfriends you had were douchebags because they weren’t me. No one would ever love you, or treat you as well as me.”

He stepped on the running board, leaned in and unbuckled your seatbelt, then turned your knees toward him as he stepped down.

“I should never have let you get on that airplane. I knew I was in love with you then, just like I’m in love with you still.”

He took off his sunglasses and looked up at you in the truck.

Your hands went to his face and neck, touching him wherever you could reach.

“Promise me one thing?” he asked.

“Anything,” you whispered.

“Never be away more than a couple days,” he said.

You nodded.

“Honey, I need you to say it.”

You slid to the edge of the seat and out of the truck. Jensen kept his hands on you, helping you down to the ground, his arms around your waist.

“My sweet boy, I promise, never to be away more than a couple days,” you managed to say while looking into his beautiful green eyes.

The intensity that Jensen exuded could often be overwhelming or scary depending on the situation. He wasn’t one to throw away words. He said what he meant. He was in love with you.

His forehead rested on yours as you stroked his head and neck. “I could never give my whole heart to someone because you had it, Jensen, my whole heart, since the day we met. I was so scared I would never see you again. I cried when we left the hotel, just like I did when I got on the airplane. I shouldn’t have left.”

If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly to his body, you might have started crying. As it was, you felt like you could barely breathe. Putting words to feelings you’d held down so firmly and for so long seemed to have robbed you of oxygen. It was amazing to finally be able to say it out loud and to the man you’d loved since he was a boy.

He tipped his head down and to the side, his lips meeting yours with subdued passion. The occasional car driving by reminded you both you were still in public. Jensen had been extremely private in his relationship with Danneel. Making out with him on the side of the road felt somewhat out of character. It wasn’t until the last car that went by and honked their horn that he decided to come up for air.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said.

“Jay,” you stopped him. He came back to you, his hand cupping your face. “I’m sorry for pushing too hard. I didn’t mean to upset you, that was the last thing I wanted. I just get hyper aware of what I want and get too focused on it.”

“Mhm,” he grumbled, “you’re forgiven.” He gave you a quick peck.

“Hey Jay, remember when we did the photobooth?” He nodded, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I was really glad to have you as a friend, but that’s also when you were more than a friend. No one has ever been good enough since then, because, whether I knew it or not, I was in love with you, too.”

“Now you’re just sucking up so you can see my half of the photo strip.”

“Please, can I see it? I didn’t even know you still had it,” you said. “I didn’t take you for that kind of sentimentality.”

He went to the back of the truck and hopped in with his usual athletic grace that still irritated the crap out of you. He barely put any effort into staying fit. Minimal cardio, minimal weight training, and he was good at everything. He went to the box you hadn’t even noticed he’d put on the truck. It was inside a bungee’d bin and he pulled out the box you’d seen at the cabin with “Nova” written on it. Sliding the box to the end, you were there to open the tailgate and join him when he sat down.

He opened the box for you to see all of the contents loose inside. Most of the letters that he kept were in their envelopes and only a few loose cards and pages. He’d kept a few things you’d given him, including a bottle of sand from the lake trip when you were kids, to the trinket you won at the arcade in Dallas. Something caught your eye at the bottom of the box, though.

“Are you kidding me right now?” you couldn’t believe your eyes. You immediately recognize the white and black material and black nylon straps.

“I guess it wasn’t so bad after all,” he shrugged.

“Now I know why you wouldn’t let me dig in the box at the cabin,” you said. “But why now? And how did you even sneak this out of my apartment? How did you find it?”

“When I was looking for stuff that belonged to fuckface to throw out. I had a moment of weakness. Look inside,” he said.

After you unzipped the main pouch, you looked inside to find a piece of folded paper. Opening it, you saw what might have been the first letter you ever wrote Jensen. You remembered the aquatic stationery that you’d been so happy to find. In the folds of the paper was the bottom half of the photo strip. The edges were worn and some of the edges of the pictures were damaged, but the important parts were still there.”

“I think you were laughing at some dumb face I was making. And that bottom one, that’s my favorite,” he said, shyly. “You still look at me like that, you know.”

It was the picture of your forehead on his that got you, the bottom picture. Your face had a happy smile, your hand on his chest next to his neck and your other arm around his shoulders. The look on his face and the body language of you both spoke volumes. You put the picture down and looked up at him, speechless.

“I thought about it… kissing you… really wished you had tried. I was too shy and scared of your dad to make a move,” he admitted.

You wiped your eyes, “Honestly, I wish I had too, but I was too scared and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing to even attempt it.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “but I was willing to find out, if you were.”

You couldn’t stop looking at the pictures. The top half was in your house and you’d seen them many times, but the bottom half was so different. There was an undeniable shift in the bottom. The top was just two kids having a good time. The bottom was two kids having a very intimate moment.

Jensen started putting things back in the box and gently took the photo strip from you. “Alright, let’s just pretend you didn’t see those.”

“Nope, too late. I already know the truth.”

“What’s that?”

You watched him put the box back in the bin and secure the bungee cords.

“Despite years of blatant denial, you are, in fact, a hopeless romantic, Jensen Ackles.”

He hopped down from the truck bed and stood directly in front of you, pushing your knees apart to stand closer. You locked your legs around him as your fingertips went under his shirt to caress his warm belly. His skin shuddered at your touch, his breath catching.

“Sweetheart… you tryin’a jump my bones on the side of the road?” he asked, not hating it.

“Maybe.”

“How long to your house?”

You eased up on him, but it was hard to not keep going.

“Not sure, but I think we’re at least four hours away, still,” you said.

“Grab on,” he said, then quickly added, “around my neck.”

You did as he asked, then he did the rest and carried you to the passenger side of the truck where he put you down. He did it like it was nothing, not even so much as a grunt. He took a moment to give your ass a smack before moving on to close the tailgate and get back inside the cab of the truck.

When you were back on the highway, your mind went back to Bart and Lill.

“Jay…I do need to talk to you about Whiskey Hollow and…” you trailed off. It wasn’t like one of your books hadn’t been turned into a movie before, but this time was different.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“You do like the series, right? And the characters? I mean, I did write Bart for you, specifically…” you really needed the validation from him.

“Yeah, I really do. Bart isn’t strictly me or any of the people you mentioned, but an amalgamation. I like him a lot. A good man who does the best he can and isn’t perfect. Bart’s backstory is good and it definitely explains why he is the way he is.” He gave you a pointed look, “I’d tell you if I thought it was shit.”

“Okay, good. Please always give me your honest opinion… when it’s work-related.”

“And if it’s not work-related?”

You smiled, “I always look good in whatever outfit I choose.”

He nodded once, “That won’t be a problem.”

“So… my agent was begging me to write a script for Whiskey Hollow rather than have another writer do it. She wants to shop it around to studios and see if anyone will pick it up. But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve never written a script before and have no clue about what’s important. I want to do a good job and I need your help. I don’t want to embarrass myself, especially on my own story.”

“You won’t embarrass yourself,” he said. “Alright, hit me. How can I help?”

Over the next two hours, you wrote as fast as your brain and hands would allow. Thankfully, you’d adapted a shorthand method that made getting your flow of words out quickly without losing anything. Eventually, Jensen needed to pull over for gas and you both took the opportunity to use the restroom and grab some food for the ride, especially since you were sure there wasn’t anything to eat at your house.

“What’s all this?” he pointed at your purchases on the counter.

“Milk. Bread. Jelly. Peanut butter. Chips,” you said. “Pretty standard stuff.”

“How are we going to make sandwiches in the truck?”

“Very carefully.”

You pointed him in the direction of the paper plates and plastic cutlery to complete your grocery shopping. You paid for all of the food and gas for this stop and were back on the road fairly quickly after. Jensen held out the keys to you and told you he needed a nap. Gladly, you took the keys and got comfy in his truck. It never failed to amaze you at how quickly he could shut off his brain and go to sleep. Before he was totally out, you let him know you needed to make some calls and he gave you a thumbs-up without opening his eyes.

When you got your earbuds in, you pushed a button on your phone, then said, “Call Jen.”

She picked up on the third ring.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“I told you,” you spoke quietly, “I needed to find Jensen.”

“That was almost a month ago, Y|N.”

“It took a minute.”

“Does that mean you found his fine ass?” Jen asked.

“I sure did,” you still kept your voice low. “About three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago?! So you found him almost right away? What the hell were you doing? Were you doing him?”

“Shh! Yes, we were making up for lost time. I’m with him right now, in his truck, and we’re going to my house. I know I don’t have to remind you, but please keep this quiet. We’re going to need to go to Texas at some point.”

Jen was only just beginning to process what you’d told her. “How was the sex? Was he any good? Did you scream?”

“Jen!”

“I can hear your friend,” Jensen said, quietly.

“Oh my god, he can hear you,” the blush quickly rose to your cheeks.

“No, go ahead, tell her. I want to hear your answer,” he paused. “Tell the truth,” he cracked open an eye.

“I’ll talk to you later, Jen,” you were mortified. “I need to call Janice, too.”

You disconnected the call and turned down the volume in your earbuds. You were about to call your manager, but Jensen was curious.

“Well?” he asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” you countered, hoping he would drop it.

“I can take constructive criticism,” he said.

You decided to just say it. “You are the only person to crack the code. A few have gotten close, but you… are masterful,” you couldn’t bear to look at him.

He gave a sleepy little fist pump and grin before crossing his arms over his chest again and closing his eyes. You waited a good twenty minutes before you attempted to call your agent, Jan. The two of you discussed the books you had going and what you’d been doing, then caught her up to the details about the script she wanted you to write.

“Sweetie,” she began, “you know I love that you have two secret identities, but you need to give me more to do. You have phenomenal numbers in BOTH fan bases. When will you let me get you on TV for some promotion? We really need an author reveal. Also, I have a big-wig on the hook for your script, really need you to get that to me as soon as you can, sweets.”

“I promise, I’m making progress. I bought the software. I have a consultant. I just need a few moments peace to crank the sucker out,” you liked Jan a lot, but there were times you wanted to kick her, not super, hard, but enough to leave a bruise.

“What would it take to get you out on a promotion circuit?”

“A miracle.”

“Pretend I’m a magic genie. If we’re gonna do a reveal, let’s go big,” she said.

“I have conditions,” you said.

“Lay ‘em on me, sweetie. Genie Jan is ready,” she said.

“If you manage to sucker someone into buying the script… if the studio or producers give the green light… I will do TV with whomever is cast as Bart. I want it noted with emphasis that Jensen Ackles should be strongly considered for Bart. He is, after all, whom I was thinking of when writing Bart. I will do Seth Meyers with Jensen.”

“Jensen Ackles? Are you sure? Isn’t he kind of imploding right now? Aren’t they still looking for him?” Jan asked.

“He’s on my wishlist, Jan. He is the one who should play Bart,” you reiterated.

“Sweetie, I understand. I just want the best possible outcome.”

“Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be found soon. That woman’s story isn’t ringing true, either. I think she was just trying to scam money out of him.”

“And you want Seth Meyers? Why not one of the Jimmy’s?” she asked.

“I’m a fan and I dated a Jimmy, It didn’t go well. Besides, Seth is funny and the only late night show I’ll watch,” you explained.

“If I can get you on Seth’s show, you’ll do it and not back out?”

“My conditions are simple. I will do it, but it must be like that.”

“Alright, I can work with that,” she said.

You ended the call shortly after that and felt a lot better about things moving forward, not just with your career, but also with Jensen. When you did get home, you were going to look into that “hussy”, as Donna called her, and see what you could find out, maybe enlist the help of Shelley. You just wanted to ask the woman why she was targeting Jensen. You drove on in silence thinking of all the things you wanted and needed to do when you got to the house. Before you knew it, you were driving 25 mph down the main drag of your hometown and Jensen stirred awake at the speed change.

As you got closer to your old apartment, you looked up and noted the light was on in the living room.

“Mom is still up,” you looked at the clock, 10:09 PM.

Jensen looked up at the windows as you stopped for the stop light. “It’s weird not going to your apartment.”

“I know. Before today, now, it didn’t bother me, but it does feel strange.” The light changed and you drove on toward the bridge. “I hope you like my house, though. I did a couple things with you in mind.”

“You did?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s for me, too, but I thought you’d find them appealing,” you said.

“You didn’t have to do that. Your apartment was great though,” he said. Curiosity got the better of him, “What things?”

“I’ll give you a tour when we get there,” you said, crossing the bridge that went over the river. “I’ve had to buy a lot of stuff just to maintain the land, it’s ridiculous, and I had to have out buildings built. I’m a proper adult.”

He snorted, “Do you use the equipment?”

Sometimes it was annoying how he could see through your bullshit so easily. “Sometimes. Shut up!” you laughed. “I hired a guy I went to school with to come out to mow and plow once a week and as needed. I use the mower to keep my trail growth down and the snowblower is hella cool.”

Jensen just stared at you as you turned onto your road.

“Stop looking at me like that, weirdo,” you pulled up to the gate and entered the, very particular to you and Jensen, code. You’d embraced your secret life, the one where you were a notable author with a hot and famous best friend, who had become your boyfriend. It was something like your own inside joke. If anyone had ever guessed how you were able to buy land and build a house, no one ever said anything to you. You found most people didn’t ask questions if they got paid well for their work and you were a generous tipper. Every little bit helps.

The gate came to life and rolled open, enhancing the anticipation. You really wanted him to like what you had created. When it opened and you pulled ahead and stopped for it to close before moving on. The driveway to your house was lit with small lights to lead the way. The house itself wasn’t visible from the road and you followed the driveway to the left and through the trees around a small hill. After the trees, the land opened up into a clearing where your house stood. Every time you drove through the trees and the house appeared, it struck you that the modern appearance of the home was so well complimented by its surroundings.

“Whoa. That’s… I don’t even know what…” Jensen sputtered.

“Good, though, right?” you were quite proud of your home.

“Yeah, I like it. I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”

You pulled around to the side where the garage doors were and parked in front of the middle door. When you hopped out and went to the hidden keypad by the door, Jensen crawled into the driver’s seat and pulled into the open garage space when the door fully opened. You went to the inside control panel to close the garage and turn on the lights.

The stark white interior was nearly blinding from driving in the dark for so long. Jensen had gotten out of the truck by then and was looking all around the inside of the garage. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the classic car in the third stall.

“What have we here?” he said, admiring the car.

He was about to cup his hands around his eyes to peek in the window when you said, “My dad’s car.”

Jensen immediately stood up straight without touching the car in the third stall. “Your dad’s?”

You nodded, “Mhm. I started looking for it before the pandemic. It was a bitch to do, but my aunt works in the treasurer’s office and hooked me up with the VIN. Made it a lot easier to track down.”

“Wait, this is his actual car?” You nodded. “How long was it gone? And what condition was it in when you got it?”

You sighed heavily. “It was in pretty bad shape. Dad sold it before I was even born. He loved it.” It was impossible to not be a little sad and a lot mad. You had put these details in letters you’d sent to Jensen in Austin. “She kept a lot more from you than I thought… I put all of this in the mail, Jay.” You tried to keep the anger out of your voice, but you knew it seeped in. If anything, you understood why she did it. You and Jensen were so close, but it still made you mad since you both had tried so hard to stay platonic.

He stood silent for a few moments, “Alright. Can we go inside and talk about this?”

He grabbed the bags out of the truck and followed you inside. You led him through the laundry room and into the main house. You noticed he looked around to take everything in. The house itself wasn’t huge, but you’d also gotten creative with the design. Hidden spaces, secret doors, everything you’d ever wanted in a house when you were a kid.

Jensen put the bags on the counter in the kitchen and started putting things away. You got out a couple plates and started making the two of you something to eat. Silently, you handed him a plate with a pb&j on it.

He sighed loudly, “I asked her if she – misplaced anything from you. She denied it. It wasn’t just her jealousy. It was the lying and manipulation that hurt the most. I’m ashamed to say that I started to believe it. There was a lot more I wasn’t even aware of.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “I asked what her relationship with Dan was,” he continued. “She insisted nothing was going on and that he was stalking her.”

“Did you believe her?”

“At that point, I didn’t know what was real and what was a lie. After that, I knew not to trust her word.”

“I wouldn’t believe a single word that comes out of her mouth in the future, either.” Jensen looked at you with an expression that told you he was done for the moment.

“Finish up and I’ll show you around the house,” you told him.

He took another bite and talked with his mouth full, “All I’m interested in is the bedroom.”

“Your mother will be shocked at your table manners, sir,” you said. “Also, you’re a perv.”

“Stop. You’re the perv. I was sweet and innocent until I met you,” he countered.

“So now it’s my fault you’re like this?”

“I said what I said,” he smirked, looking you over, his eyes resting on his favorite places.

You didn’t know what to say either to his words, or his scrutiny. “Alright then,” was all you could muster.

Jensen woke you up in the morning in the most pleasant way. Eventually, you both made use of your extra large, spa shower. You couldn’t help but stare at him. You stood in the shower and stretched as the hot water ran over your body. You could see the reflection of Jensen behind you at the 2nd separate shower. He was already looking at you like you were his next meal…again. You turned to face him and returned the gaze. He’d always been fit, but the muscle he’d put on for The Boys, and the work on the mountain had maintained it, was something to behold. He stood staring back at you as he washed his torso, a little, pleased smile on his face.

“You’re staring,” he noticed.

You rinsed your hair, “It’s like looking at a marble statue.” You stepped across the stall to where he stood, reaching out to trace the lines of the muscles on his arms, shoulders, and torso. “Are you going to keep these?”

He stepped backwards into the water to rinse the soap. Stepping forward again, he flexed a little, “You like ‘em?”

“I don’t mind ‘em. It’s kinda hot, but you’re just hot anyway,” you said. Your fingers traced the ‘V’ that formed at his waist, loving the sounds it elicited from him. “Love the hair and beard, too. The beard needs a bit of a trim, but still, dirty hot look for you definitely works for me.”

“Depends on the next role, but the beard is driving me crazy. Takes too much damn time to maintain. Same with this mop,” he said finishing up his routine. He suspected if he didn’t get out of the shower soon, they would need to wash up again.

“Such little butt, though. Nice shape. Not flat, but little,” you observed.

You turned to grab your conditioner and Jensen shut off the water on his side.

“Do you want me to keep it?” he asked.

“It’s good for ‘sports’ but I would have climbed that scrawny kid I knew way back in the day,” you said. “That sounds terrible.”

“Not everyone can have a perfect ass like you,” he said and gave your butt a solid smack, the sound amplified by your surroundings.

Reeling, not only from the stinging of your buttock, but also from the rush of heat to your lady parts. Rubbing the now hot skin on your butt, you called after him, “I still have you!”

He just laughed and added, “Touche!” as he wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom. Almost as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, something felt off. His clothes were in the bedroom and needed to grab the bag. Brushing the feeling aside, he walked through her closet into the bedroom. His peripheral vision caught the small dark figure near the door at the same time as a soft gasp met his ears, making him freeze in his tracks. His hand immediately went to his towel to make sure it didn’t go anywhere.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my daughter’s house?” the woman asked.

He pushed his shaggy hair back off his forehead with his free hand and turned to look at Y|N’s tiny mother.

“Hi Deb,” he said, feeling very, very self-aware as it took her a moment to recognize him.

“J-Jensen?! Oh my god!” She quickly covered her eyes. “I didn’t know you kids were back in town. I was just coming over to check on the house, water the mail and check the plants. Oh god, you know what I mean! Where’s Y|N?”

If it had been happening to anyone else, he might have found it funny how Y|N clearly got some of her more amusing traits from her mother. Instead, he was beyond mortified that her mother had now seen him nearly naked and obviously sleeping with her daughter. “Finishing up in the shower,” he hated the awkward pause. Pointing back toward the bathroom, he said, “I’m just going to go…” he trailed off and took long strides back through the closet to the bathroom.

Y|N was out of the shower in a robe and was putting her hair up in a towel when he walked in.

“Babe,” he waited for her to look up. “Your mom is here,” he pointed, “IN your room.”

You looked at Jensen and how pink he looked and nearly naked. One plush towel was the only thing saving his modesty. The image of your disheveled bed flashed into your mind’s eye and you’d obviously just gotten out of the shower right after Jensen.

“I guess I don’t have to tell her we’re together,” you chuckled.

“Do you have another one of those robes?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’ll be right back,” you told him and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, Mom loves you.”

Quickly, you went to your room and gave your mom the “one second” hand signal, grabbed Jensen’s bag and took it to the bathroom for him. He mouthed a relieved “thank you” and took the bag from you. Back out in your room, your mom was still standing by the door waiting for you to return.

“Oh my god, honey, I didn’t know you were both here. I came in through the front door, I didn’t even know you were home. What happened out there? Is he okay? I think we were both pretty shocked,” she said all at once.

Your mom was well aware of what had been going on in Jensen’s personal life. Donna and she still talked fairly regularly. “It’s okay, Mom, he’ll live,” you chuckled. Your mom had a funny smile on her face. “How about you? Are you okay? Did you get an eyeful?” you teased.

She put her hand on your arm, “Honey.”

“I know,” you chuckled again.

“So you two got together finally?” She looked hopeful.

You smirked and thought of all the inappropriate things to say. “Yeah, we’re finally going to give ‘us’ a try. Please, don’t make a thing of it. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Y|N!” she smacked your arm. Her eyes went wide then a little teary.

“You’re making it weird,” you told her. “He wants me to go with him to Texas and wherever else he needs to go. Guess I can quit the grocery store now.”

“You could have anyway. You don’t need that job at all,” she reminded you.

“I like the structure,” you told her.

“You know, I tried to call you.”

“I know. Soldier Boy threw me in the river and it was in my pocket,” you explained. “I made him buy me a new one.”

“Soldier Boy?”

“The reason he looks Hulked out. He was at his batcave and the physical work kept the muscle. It’s kinda hot.”

“I’ll say,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Okay,” you laughed. “We’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

You shuffled her out the door and gently closed it behind her. When you heard her on the steps, you went back to your bathroom. Jensen stood in there, fully dressed, looking like he was finding stuff to do until it was safe for him to step out.

“Smells expensive in here. Did you try all of my products, or just the ones that you thought smelled nice?” you asked.

He was studying the bottles of perfume. Finding the one he was looking for, he picked it up and showed it to you saying, “This one is my favorite. Warm and spicy, like you.”

“That’s my favorite, too,” you admitted. It was one you had found in one of the little shops near your hotel when you visited him in Rome. “I told my mom we would come down to talk with her. She’s going to want to know what the plan is for Texas and after.” You took the bottle of perfume from him and opened your robe to spray it on your body and put it back on the vanity.

“If we make it out of this room,” he said, snaking his hands inside the robe and pulling you to him. His hands moved over your bare skin.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ackles,” you warned him.

His full lips met yours, parting for his tongue to gently mingle with yours, stoking the embers that seemed to always be threatening to ignite around him. His right hand went up your back between your shoulder blades while his left reached down to grasp your ‘perfect’ flesh. Your heart raced in your chest despite the somewhat tender moment. He broke the kiss, but held you still, not wanting to fully break the moment.

“Love you like crazy, Nova,” his eyes were closed, forehead touching yours.

Despite the heat from your body and his, his deep voice and breath on your face gave you goosebumps. “Love you so much, my sweet boy.” You smiled with your eyes closed as your hand went up the back of his neck.

“You better put some clothes on before we go down,” he said, sounding a little like Dean, his lips brushing your forehead before he kissed you.

He left you standing there in a little daze to collect yourself and get ready as quickly as you could to meet with your mother.

Mercifully, by the time you and Jensen went down to the kitchen, your mother had rallied and was pretending like she hadn’t just seen Jensen nearly naked. She was looking through the cupboards for something.

“Honey, where’s your Keurig pods?” she asked after hearing you enter the kitchen, but she still kept opening cupboard doors.

You went to the pantry and showed her what you had for your selections.

“You don’t have any coffee?” she asked.

“I only keep that around for you. When you were here last, you used the last one. We only got here last night, so I haven’t gone to the store yet.”

You thought you heard a grumble from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here either,” you said over your shoulder to Jensen.

“Well, how long are you kids going to be in town? Do you want to put in an order at the store? I could go pick it up for you,” she offered.

You moved to the end of the island to stand next to where Jensen was sitting.

“We haven’t really talked about how long we will be here. Jensen needs to go back to Texas to deal with some stuff and I want to go with him. We’re not in a huge rush to get down there, but we do need to go, soonish.”

Jensen nodded. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it on the way here. I was thinking we could ease into it. Take care of as much as we can here, then go down, maybe in a week or less.”

“I think it’s going to be crazy once we get into the full swing of your career,” you looked at him.

“Um, your career is doing pretty well. I’ll probably be the one keeping up with you,” he said.

Your mom looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you going to go public? You, Y|N, with who you really are? I mean about your writing.”

You nodded. “At some point. That’ll make my manager and agent very happy…and publisher.”

Your mom clasped her hands together. “Oh thank god. Please do it soon! It has been so hard to keep this a secret for so long, especially from your brother. I think he suspects something but I don’t know what.”

“Drug dealer,” you joked.

Jensen perked up, “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“No,” you admitted, “but he probably thinks that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” your mom admonished, “but he will draw that conclusion soon if you don’t tell him soon. He wondered how you were able to build this house. So far, he’s buying your NRC cover.”

“The government pays well,” you noted.

“Be that as it may, you’ve got to at least tell your brother the truth,” she said.

“So he can ask for even more money?” you grumbled. “It would be one thing if it weren’t so frequent.”

“I’ll handle him, even if you don’t tell him. His feelings will be hurt if you don’t tell him before you go public.”

You looked at Jensen. He shrugged, “Deb has a point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you admitted. It had been a long time since it all began. He didn’t really ‘deserve’ to know, in your opinion, but he should know, you supposed. “I guess I better make a to-do list of shit to get done while we’re here.”

“I know, and he’s terrible about keeping a secret. Anyway, I should go,” your mom said. “You two probably have a lot to take care of while you’re here.” She picked up her purse. “Let me know if you need me to run any errands for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said.

She patted Jensen’s shoulder, “I was always rooting for you kiddo. I’m happy for you both.”

Your mom was going to leave it at that, but Jensen turned toward her. “Thanks, Deb,” he said and hugged her. “I feel like we’ve gotten closer today.”

They parted and your mom was blushing again.

“I’m so sorry, I was just so surprised,” she said.

Jensen chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. It was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you, too,” she said innocently. Then the realization of the double meaning washed over her features before she practically ran to the door.

“Now I understand where you get it,” Jensen smiled.

“She’s my mom, not blind. She’s always appreciated a hot guy,” you told him. You reached out to touch his neck. “This grizzly look is working, big time.”

“I don’t know if I can wait for Texas to get this cut. Do you have any scissors, razors, clippers or anything?” he asked.

“I do, but you’re getting the dullest ones I have,” you told him. You sighed, “We can probably get some at the store when we get groceries.”

You could feel the cosmic pressure to get back to work coming from your agent, publisher, and manager. You gave Jensen a quick tour of the house but you eventually ended up at your desk in your office. You tapped the ctrl button a few times to wake up your system. Jensen left for a few moments while you opened your emails. You knew he’d noticed your secret, but you waited and kept reading.

After you answered a couple emails, Jensen reappeared to ask, “What’s with this wall?”

You tried to look confused, “It’s a bookshelf? I think I need one of those cool rolling ladder things.”

“You should definitely do that,” he pointed a finger at you for emphasis, but turned back toward the wall of shelves. “But…something is off…”

“What do you mean? Is something out of place?” you got up to join him. He was so close to discovering your secret.

Jensen scanned the shelves until his eyes fell on a book that seemed out of place from the others.

“Nova, you are the coolest chick I’ve ever known.” He stepped forward and tipped his head to the side to read the spine of one of the books. “Aerospace Engineering. Now I know you do a lot of research, and are smart as hell, but I read all of the Whiskey Hollow books and Bart wasn’t engineering shit.”

“Okay, smartass. How about you check the inside cover. It’s inscribed to me,” you gave him a playful shove.

Jensen reached for the top of the book to pull it off the shelf. When he grasped the top corner of the book and began to pull, there was a soft click and the bookshelf moved.

“No you did not do a secret library door! Where does it go? Can I go in? There isn’t a trapdoor for me to fall through is there? I can’t believe you Scooby-Doo’d your office.”

You went to the bookcase and pushed on the right side while pulling on the left. The bookcase moved easily and quietly opened like a regular door. It locked into the open position and the lights inside the room turned on to reveal both a spiral staircase going down and a room you had turned into a quiet office for your zoom meetings. It worked great for the meetings where you needed to focus and not get distracted, looking out the window.

It was cute to watch him. He looked like a kid in a candy store. The walls in the open space of the room were covered in a mural of muted greens and grays, displaying a misty forest scene and the lighting was adjustable to your mood.

Jensen stuck his head inside the booth and poked around looking at the mic and camera, but his eyes kept going toward the staircase.

“There is a trapdoor next to the staircase, but it isn’t a drop door,” you said as you motioned to the stairs, “After you, sir.”

Jensen went to the spiral staircase and looked down into the darkness.

“Make sure you use the handrail,” you told him.

Eager to discover more surprises, he rested his hand on the rail and began the descent. The lights turned on and got brighter as he went down each step. He immediately stopped, lifted his hands and took another stop to test his theory. He then ran his hands up and down the rails and the lights dimmed or brightened with the motions.

“Coo-ooo-ool,” he said then ambled all the way down the stairs which ended facing directly into the big surprise you’d incorporated into your house, just for him. “You did this for me?”

He went to look at each guitar, instrument and piece of equipment you had gathered for his in-home recording studio.

“How? Why? Babe… this is too much,” he said, though his voice was still far away, exploring and marveling at the gift.

“I hoped,” you began, “I hoped, that someday, you would be here and could use it. And… that you and I would be where we are now… You probably don’t even know you sing along to the radio, like, all the time. If you’re not singing, it’s humming. I wanted you to have a place like this where you could be creative if you wanted to. You never know when inspiration might hit.”

He was still quiet looking at things, “I tried to involve you in this, but I called some guys you know and they helped me pick out the right pieces and equipment,” you explained. “I didn’t mean for this to be a surprise. I just wanted you to be happy here. Happy to come visit.”

Jensen put down the acoustic guitar he’d been strumming and crossed the floor to where you stood watching him. He stood over you looking down into your eyes. You saw they had gone a deep green color as he looked into yours. His hands cupped your face and neck as he spoke softly to you.

“I want you to hear me and take this to heart, my Nova, as long as you’re with me, I’m a happy guy. I hope I never made you feel like I didn’t want to be around you. Hell, I even asked you to move closer to me,” he pulled you to him, his lips pressing to yours, one arm around you, the other touching your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me, but I promise, I’m all yours.” He turned his head to the side, leaning down to kiss you again.

He broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. You were still floating somewhere close to heaven with your eyes still closed.

“It was Steve, wasn’t it?” his voice rumbled, breath on your face. His fingertip traced your lower lip.

“Steve who?” you were in a love daze.

“Carlson,” he kissed your jaw near your ear.

“Mhm,” you ran your hand through his hair, “and Jason, too.”

He moved to your neck and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “You’re mine.”

“They really liked helping me,” you prodded. “They’ve even been here before you. …and stayed overnight.”

“Never again,” he said against your neck, his beard scratching your skin.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, playfully.

The way he rocked and swayed with your body, it almost felt like you were dancing.

“You’ll never have to wonder where I am, or how much I love you, ever again,” he said.

“Why are you so sweet to me?”

“I give back what I receive,” he said simply, kissing you softly. “You set a high bar.”

You composed yourself and remembered you needed to get back to work.

“Hey, give it all a try and the amps. I won’t be able to hear a thing with the soundproofing,” you went back toward the stairs. “I really need to get back to work.”

He gave you a look of longing, but also a thumbs-up as a signal that he heard you and was already looking at his options. When you got upstairs, you left open the bookcase so you could hear him anyway. He could sing the alphabet and you would want to hear him. Steve and Jason had both been at your house at the same time for one visit and they had their own little jam session down there to test out all of the equipment. With all of the soundproofing, being in the basement, and closing the bookcase, you’d forgotten they were even there until they emerged several hours later.

Once you’d gotten resettled at your desk, you were disappointed to find that your unread emails and open documents were still there, unread and unfinished. Resolving to at least get through your emails, you trained your focus to your computer screen.

When the emails were all read and responses sent, you decided to take a break at your desk and listen to the music coming from below. You heard the last of “The Sounds of Someday” before he started “City Grown Willow”.

The lyrics to “City Grown Willow” had always resonated with you and you didn’t know why. It just felt like it was mean for your ears. It just hit differently now. The video he and Steve had done… the lyrics… it was almost like he’d been calling out to you with the song. You passed off the notion as wishful thinking and got back to work on the screenplay. It would be the introduction of Hobart and Lillian to the viewers who may not be familiar with the books, but also, you wanted to stay somewhat true to the first book, while assuming the viewers half-way know what’s going on in the universe.

The software package you bought was a life-saver and you were flying through pages and pages of script. Dialog had always been easy for you. Hearing the character’s voices had always been very clear for you. Thankfully, describing setting didn’t need to be wildly descriptive and it was the content of the scenes that were more important.

Whiskey Hollow had lived in your mind for years, but it was somewhat difficult to reintroduce the characters because they had come so far since the beginning. Thankfully, you still had your written notes and outlines from your original book and that was an incredible help. With your notes handy, you wouldn’t reveal too much, too soon.

It wasn’t until Jensen arrived with a bowl of cereal and a drink that you realized how much time had passed or that he’d even left the studio.

“Figured you might need that,” he said, pulling up a chair to eat with you.

“I’m sorry, Jay, I got in a groove and I had to go with it,” you explained.

“No worries,” he waved you off. “I got carried away down there, too. You did great with it. Whole thing,” he waved his hand in a circle, “A plus.”

“Well, you can thank Jason and Steve. They were a big help.”

“It was your idea. So I’m thanking you. I can’t believe you did that.”

You only shrugged. It didn’t seem extreme to you. You’d only wanted a space for Jensen to be creative in a way you knew he would love and not be held back by anything it could be lacking…but you did realize the truth of it.

“I think that, though my brain knew we were not a couple, my heart didn’t listen and wanted…to express my love for you,” you couldn’t believe you admitted it out loud. “Some people’s love language is touch, mine is outlandish gifts.”

He nodded as he chewed his cereal. “I know you don’t love people touching you, pretty much ever, but I love that you let me. Touch is my language and… it makes me feel important, special, that you shower me with your attention.” He took another bite of cereal, “I put a lot of what’s going on in here,” he tapped his temple, “into the songs I write with Steve. It’s not a love language, exactly, but… it also is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve heard me perform. I’ve seen your vinyls of mine…” he was getting shy. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“Off My Mind,” you answered quickly.

Jensen smiled, “Yeah, that’s a good one. We ran with that one. I was feeling a certain kind of way with that one.”

“Did you write that?”

“It was mostly Steve, but I put in my two cents. Any others, maybe off volume 2?” he asked.

““City Grown Willow”,” you answered.

“"City Grown Willow" is about you,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Us,” he said, pointing back and forth between you and himself.

When you just sat staring at him in confusion and disbelief, he continued, “That video call, that one in December 2019.”

“The one where you didn’t get my spot on Edna Mode impression?”

“I know who she is now. Good movie.”

“I know…”

“Can I tell you this or not?”

“I’m sorry, please, go on,” you chuckled.

“After that call, it kicked things in motion. You were on my mind a lot and I needed time to process. Wrote the song to kind of push things out and into being.”

You remembered that call quite well and what he’d just said made you ask, “So talking to me made you realize that you had love feelings for me. You tried to stay with Dee, ultimately divorcing. Then you write the song. Then you go out and shag everything with boobs. Get into a situation. Text me the most cryptic text you’ve ever sent, and that’s saying something, and went into hiding hoping I would come find you.”

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound as good. We can edit that when our grandkids ask us about our story.”

“We’re having grandkids?”

Jensen shrugged and took a drink of the milk in his bowl. “We’ve been ‘shagging’ like rabbits for weeks…I know I wasn’t using anything, were you?”

“Holy crap,” you said. “I didn’t even think about it. I’m getting a little – seasoned. We better get to the store and pick up some tests, just in case. I didn’t think you wanted kids, Jay.”

“I didn’t think I did. I didn’t think it would be a good idea until now,” he said.

“What changed your mind?” you wanted to know.

“The right partner,” he answered. He seemed apprehensive, “I want you to know it’s okay if we don’t. I know you went through stuff with Dan…”

“For the record, before you say more, you came for me when I needed you, too. And while I was very sad to lose that pregnancy, I didn’t want to have a child with him. I felt really guilty about that for a long time, but I knew he wasn’t the one.”

“--are we doing this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. This is kind of out of nowhere, Jay. I don’t even know if my body can handle it at this point. What if I decide you’re a douchebag and kick you to the curb? What if I’m not the best thing since sliced bread and you decide you want soup?”

“Sweetheart, I’m a sandwich guy and that’s not gonna change. Not now, not ever,” he said with finality.

“You’re such a dork, though! Oh my god. What if I’m pregnant right now and this kid gets your sense of humor? I don’t know if I could take it from two of you!”

“You’d love it,” he said playfully.

You avoided his gaze for a few moments, feeling a little overwhelmed. You hadn’t even thought about your cycle since before you left. You didn’t even know if you could have kids at this point in your life. It was possible, of course, but risky. “Jay, let’s not rush things, okay? I… I’m a little skittish after everything. Dan and Grant and all of the other disasters, I just… they all cheated on me and treated me like shit, used me for whatever reason… As my friend, I trust you implicitly…”

“I understand,” he raised a hand, as though to indicate, ‘say no more’. “I don’t want to rush either. I’m just saying if it happens, I’m going to be happy about it, and if it doesn’t, I’m good, too. I love what we have going on right now, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Babe. I promise. You can trust me. Always.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go get some groceries,” he said.

“Hold on now,” you said, finishing your cereal and milk. “How long do you plan on being here? I don’t want to buy a bunch of food only to throw it out.”

He leaned back in his chair, extending his legs to go across your lap. Absently, your hands rested on his legs. Jensen stretched his whole body shit his hands clasped on top of his head.

“How does staying the week and leaving on Saturday morning sound? IF we drive all day, we’d get there Saturday night.”

“Do you have your own place down there, or did you get to keep the house?” you asked.

“I let her keep the house,” he said. “It was never really mine. She picked just about everything. I got a little place on Lake Austin. It’s small, but it is secure, has a good view and access to the lake.”

“What did you do with the Impala,” you were suddenly fearful. “You still have it, right? Tell me she didn’t try to take it from you.”

“No, I made it clear there would be pushback if she tried. Clif is looking after it for me, for now. Also, she wanted a prenup and I signed it. I don’t go after her stuff, nor she mine. Another reason I didn’t want to have kids with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we’d had a kid, she could get half of my shit and alimony and child support.”

A thought sprung to your mind and you didn’t know if you should ask it or not.

“I can see your wheels spinning. Just ask.”

“Is there any-thing that is going to come back and bite you in the ass?” you asked.

“No?” he pulled his legs from your lap.

“Jay… I don’t trust her. I just get the feeling this isn’t over with her. She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out about us.”

“She can be mad all she wants. Divorce was final four months ago.”

“Okay, let’s go get some food,” you said, not wanting to discuss it any further. You just couldn’t shake that feeling of dread regarding anything to do with his ex wife. She didn’t strike you as one to give up on someone she wanted, or let go of a goal. She played the long-con for years and did what she could to keep you away from Jensen during that time.

“Can we make your pasta?” he asked.

You grabbed your bowl. “I told you you’d get hooked on it.”

Jensen drove you both into town to the local grocery store. Your little town has changed a lot over the years, including the grocery store. When you were growing up, there were two stores. Nowe there was only one and it was in a brand new building and location.

Jensen wore jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and a trucker hat. He looked funny with his hair smashed down and his beard sticking out. It was the little things that mattered though. He took your hand when you walked through the parking lot. Little touches as you shopped. The need to be separate, to hide your feelings, was gone.

People said hello to you both. Jensen got some second looks, but nothing to make them stop and ask questions. A few of the people you worked with stopped to chat and Jensen continued on shipping. When he found you again, your former boss, former classmate, and former neighbor, Brian was chatting you up.

“You look great, Y|N. You look really happy. What have you been doing?” he asked.

Apparently, Brian hadn’t noticed Jensen approaching. You turned at the sound of the cart and Jensen making noise as he got closer. Somehow, he’d taken on a rougher version of Dean, one who’d seen too much and he looked quite imposing.

“Me. She’s been doing me, Brian,” he said reading his nametag.

The blush in your face was rising. He could never just be cool when a guy was talking to you.

“Brian, this is Jay. Jay, this is Brian, whom I just told I quit. I’ve also known him since we were kids,” you introduced your guy to your friend.

“Huh. Me too,” Jensen said. “Good to meet you, Brian.” He extended his hand to the other man. “Baby, I got us set for the week. Are you ready to go home?” his voice was full Dean and half an octave lower.

Dominance Asserted.

“Yes, hon, I’m ready. Did you find what you wanted?” you replied.

“Sure did,” he planted a kiss on you. He pulled you and the cart with him, leaving Brian behind you.

The two of you went to the register and a high school kid you didn’t know rang up your selections. She was quick and friendly and barely gave Jensen any attention. You paid and thanked her and left with Jensen pushing the cart to the truck.

“Jay? You good?” you were putting bags into the back of the truck.

“Do you know everyone here?” he asked.

You nodded, “Kinda. It’s a pretty small town and I did work here… Didn’t like Brian, huh?”

He shook his head, “Nope. He was looking at you like you were a full meal after being half-starved.”

“Seriously? I’ve known him since his family came to town. Literally my next-door neighbor.”

“Yep, dead serious. Maybe he didn’t ‘see’ you then, but he does now. Does Br-i-an know how you wrecked your friend’s bike when you were seven?”

Jensen put the cart away with emphasis. It crashed to a stop in the coral.

“Jay!” he stopped in front of you. “Only my immediate family, Lance’s family, and you know about that accident. My love,” you patted his chest, “wild horses couldn’t take me from you, you know that, right?”

He grumbled, “Nova, I don’t think you realize how hot you are. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d still want to do dirty things with you. People are always drawn to you. Friggin Glen practically ran to talk to you.”

“Glen is an old man,” you laughed, “and you were being an aloof mountain man. I think he was worried for me.”

“Old, not dead,” he said.

“Ooookay, I think you’re blowing things out of proportion. I know who I’m going home with and it sure as shit isn’t Brian…who is a total douche, by the way. Constantly cheats on his wife. And definitely not with crusty Glen. I’m the one who is supposed to be neurotic, not you.”

He sighed heavily, “It’s just that… I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here.”

At your house, you and Jensen got the groceries put away and he’d gotten back to his normal self. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said and your curiosity was killing you. It had gotten close enough to dinner that the two of you could start preparing food.

Jensen helped cut the tomatoes while Y|N did the rest of the food prep. She hated cutting the tomatoes and it was the least he could do to help out if she was willing to do the rest. By the time the water was boiling, he had half of the tomatoes done and in the bowl where she was steadily adding the green onions and other ingredients. When the tomatoes were added to the bowl, he excused himself to get cleaned up for dinner and grabbed the bag that held his purchases from the pharmacy.

Upstairs in the bathroom he pulled the boxes out of the bag and saw the pregnancy tests at the bottom. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be a father, but if Y|N was pregnant, he was happy to be a parent with her. Seeing them also reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember. He had to tell himself that Y|N was not at all like Dee and wouldn’t do what she had done. Normally, he was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but the last few years had severely tested his resolve.

He set up the clippers and got to work. He didn’t take off too much since he didn’t know what the next job would need… if he got another job. He just hoped there would be a next job. Tomorrow, he would start making calls. Hopefully his career was salvageable.

Y|N had asked him if he wanted to retire. He supposed she asked because she already knew the answer. He didn’t want to retire and she had already pulled him out of headspace that had been quickly going down that path. It was hard being around her again and not think about all of the things Dee had been trying to brainwash him with. Despite knowing Y|N so well and trusting her, Dee had managed to cast doubt inside him.

“Everything is going to work out,” Y|N had told him. “Tomorrow, I’m going to show you how to use everything and you’re going to get back on track. Maybe you can finally start that production company you’ve always wanted to do, too. Maybe quietly start developing shows, actively look for new ideas and writers who are also in love with you.”

Dee had never said anything like that to him, never been so encouraging. He should have known not to doubt Y|N. She was always in his corner and had never waivered. He flipped on the clippers and set about taming his overgrown beard. There was no denying she made him happy. Hell, he couldn’t get enough of her. All he wanted to do was be around her, to touch her, to love her. It was nice to shower affection on her and have it returned rather than withheld. After all she had been through, it seemed like she needed it, too. Maybe they just needed it from one another.

You took the candle stick holders from the mantle and put them on the table in the dining room. The pasta definitely wasn’t a romantic dinner, but you wanted to make it special somehow. Jensen was probably going to be very busy in the lead up to going back to Texas and you had a lot of writing you needed to get done. That morning was a good start, but there was so much more to do.

You were busy getting the candles set up and the bowls dished when Jensen reappeared, looking very over-dressed for a simple home meal. And yet, also slightly casual. He was rolling up the sleeves on a white, button down shirt, which was neatly tucked into black dress pants. No belt. No socks. Somehow, he’d managed to tame his glorious mane of hair and had it brushed back from his face. His tan skin enhancing his good looks and green eyes.

“Whoa,” you heard yourself say.

He looked up with his eyes and gave you a wry smile as he finished cuffing his sleeve.

“I am wildly underdressed…It’s really not fair that you make this whole combo look so fucking hot. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“You can take your clothes off,” he put his hands in his pockets, not moving from the dining room entry. He could see you thinking about going to change your clothes. “No. Not change. Off. Or as you are.”

Goddaaaaaamn. He raised an eyebrow in question at you. “I choose my modesty, I guess.”

“Hmm.” He entered the room and pulled a chair out for you to sit at the head of the table. He pulled the palm of your hand to his lips, your fingers touching his beard, which felt softer.

The man made you feel giddy inside. Of course, you’d been friends forever and he’d always given your heart a rush, but your relationship had shifted dramatically the day you found him at his cabin.

“Jay – you don’t have to try to be someone else for me, you know that, right?” you asked. “You don’t have to be Dean, or anyone else. I just want my friend and confidant.

Jensen seated himself to your right. “I’m not trying to be anyone else. Now that you and I are together, I get to show you all sides of me…the ones I couldn’t show you until you found me on that mountain.”

You took a bit of food and reached for his hand. He took it and held it on the table. “You held back?”

He nodded, “Mhm, big time.” His thumb stroked the top of your hand.

“Me, too,” you admitted. “Like every time. Was it like that for you, too?”

He nodded again, taking a smaller bite, “Had to.”

A couple of bites passed with him holding your hand on the table top. “Were you –in love–with me–the whole time, too? Cuz–I was–with you.”

Jensen let go of your hand, used his napkin, then leaned way over to kiss you. “Mhm.”

It took you a few moments to collect yourself after that. You knew you would never get tired of hearing him say things like that to you. When your heart and stomach stopped jittering, you got out your phone and told your sound system to play music. You and Jensen chatted over your meal and you were using your elbow and the palm of your hand to hold up your head. You couldn’t help but stare at him. His skin was tan, hair somewhat lightened due to being in the sun, his green eyes shining. White button down shirt highlighting his already ridiculously good looks. The music was playing and invading your thoughts while you appreciated the view.

“Can you dance like John Travolta?” you asked.

His fork stopped before reaching his lips, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Only John Travolta can dance like John Travolta.”

“Hmm,” you smirked. “Stayin’ Alive’ was playing when it finally hit you who Jensen had been reminding you of with his glorious mane. “Barry Fucking Gibb!”

“Maurice Gibb,” he said confused. “The hell are we doing, naming BeeGees?”

You sat staring at him, both shocked and proud of yourself for finally pin-pointing who he’d been reminding you of.

“Oh my god!” you laughed and clapped your hands over your mouth. “No! You’re reminding me of Barry Gibb!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yes it fucking is!’ you laughed. “Oh god, do I think Barry Gibb is hot?”

“That’s it, it’s coming off tomorrow,” he grumped.

You sat considering his thick hair. You’d really gotten to like running your fingers through it. “We could really complete the look with a spectacular blowout.”

“Woman, if you come near me with a blow dryer, I swear…”

“You’ll spank me?”

He put his fork down and wiped his mouth. “You’re filthy. You’ve spent too much time around ex-cops and ex-military.”

“No, I’ve always been like this, I just couldn’t say it before. You always had a lady on your arm,” you paused, “Does it bother you?”

He smirked, “No. I guess not. Guess we need to get to know each other again.”

“In a new way,” you agreed.

When you woke the next morning, it was not to Jensen’s kisses. He wasn’t even in the bed with you. You’d reached to touch the spot where he had lain and it was cold. Still waking up. Your brain wasn’t processing information. You looked around trying to figure out where he’d gone. Only briefly, you wondered if you’d dreamed it all. Then the sound of a song softly sung reached your ears. It wasn’t quite the deeper tone of Steve’s voice, but you recognized “Off My Mind” right away.

Getting out of bed, you went into your bathroom and found Jensen in front of the mirror with the trashcan on the counter under him. He hummed the song when he was on his neck, then would vocalize the lyrics when he cleaned the counter of the bits that missed the trash.

Catching you watching, he said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You thought maybe you grunted in response. Jensen asked, “You gonna miss it?” He was taking off what was left of the beard. He turned the clippers back on and another soft plop of beard landed in the bin.

Moving to where he stood, you leaned against the counter with your back to the mirror. You’d caught a glimpse of yourself and were not impressed. You shrugged slightly, “It’ll be nice to see your face again. Are you taking it all off?”

“I was thinking I’d leave some. Dean still looks back at me sometimes,” he said. “I should have just taken it all off last night. Thought I’d be able to stand it a little longer.”

“Do you miss him?” you asked.

He nodded and continued taking the beard down to a thin layer.

“I miss him, too. It’s okay with me if he shows up once in a while. It was really hard watching that last episode,” you paused, remembering. “I probably won’t ever watch it again, though.”

“That bad?”

“That traumatizing,” you said. You could feel yourself getting emotional. “Not only did I have to watch Dean die, I felt like I was watching you die, too. You and Dean are so intertwined, it felt so real. To have Dean go out like that… the writers did you dirty. I get why they did it, but I hate it! Dean deserved to be happy and have a life, too.” The tears were welling up. “If you ever bring him back, please, let someone love him. Someone who loves him for exactly who he is.” The tears broke over your cheeks.

He took a step to the side to hold you, “Baby, I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I know!” you mumbled into his chest, still crying. “You had me on radio silence and I had to suffer alone.”

“He had to die sometime,” he rubbed your back.

“Not like that! Not so young! They barely left room for you guys to come back. And don’t give me that bullshit about COVID and needing to make changes. They did not need to kill Dean in a dirty BARN with a random piece of absurdly large rebar in shitty lighting. Give me Dabb’s phone number.”

He squeezed you once more before letting you go and resuming shaving.

“I’m not giving you his number,” he said.

“Well…okay,” you sputtered, “but I’m going to fix it. I’m gonna plot out a whole thing and my sweet Dean will live.”

“Like fan fiction?” he asked, still shaving. Large clumps of beard falling into the trash can.

“No, not like fan fiction, butthole. Like a fully plotted out, written scripts that will fucking resolve that bullshit.”

“Don’t you have a whole movie to write?” he asked.

“Listen, Ackles,” you gave him tone and he grinned knowing he zinged you. “O’ll make it happen. Just you wait.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “You do that. Can I help plot it out with you?”

“Of course!” you were feeling better now and excited about the prospect of potentially bringing your favorite character back to life.

Jensen put the final guard on the clippers and ran it over his face. He made sure he got any long pieces he may have missed, then cleaned up the mess he’d made on the counter. You were patiently waiting for him to show you his face. It still surprised you how long his hair had gotten, though.

“How long were you growing out your hair, for real?” you asked. “You were up there a couple months, but this grow out is a good six months or more.”

“About that,” he agreed.

“Do you want me to take some length off? I have scissors somewhere,” you offered. “Can’t guarantee it’ll look good, but I’ll leave enough a pro can fix it.”

“Knock yourself out,” he agreed and sat on your vanity chair.

Grabbing a towel, all of your hair clips, brush and comb, you got ready to cut Jensen’s hair. You draped the towel around his shoulders and reached around from behind to clip the towel together in front of him.

She brushed his hair, running her fingers through with each pass. Her nails scratched his scalp as she seemingly massaged his head.

“Mm. Your scalp is tense. How is your scalp tense?”

“Might be because I have a nearly naked woman dancing around and touching me all over,” he remarked.

She looked down at her bare legs under his shirt. “So…if I lifted my arms above my head like this,” she flashed him, “that do anything for ya?”

It really did. He didn’t know why it was so hot when women wear their partner’s clothes, but it was. The shape of her ass just barely concealed.

“Yep. Like it. Like it a lot,” he was trying not to think about it.

“Oh…okay,” she said, and he knew she would tease him the whole time she cut his hair.

She brushed it back and tried his hair in different styles. He just let her do her thing until she could picture the style she wanted.

“Too bad, Barry Gibb is pretty hot on you,” she teased and got to sectioning his hair.

When she was done, he’d gotten his face full of her at least three times, and two views of her butt in the mirror. She took off about three inches of hair from all over his head. She brushed it again and checked her work, looking for missed, long hairs. She then got out the clippers and shaved his neck and evened out the line of hair. He was then given a mirror so she could check the final product while she cleaned up the floor gracing him with one luxurious view of her backside.

“That’s a lot of hair, hon,” she said, putting the clippings in the trash. “So?”

“Actually, not bad.”

“Really, or are you trying not to hurt my feelings?” she asked.

“Baby, I would tell you,” he assured her.

“Alright, let’s get some breakfast going. Then I can show you how to use all of the equipment,” she said.

After breakfast, you showed Jensen all of the things and where you kept your cheat sheets for him to use if needed. He seemed to catch on fairly quickly and you left him to it so you could get your own work done. Almost as soon as you got on your computer, you got a zoom call from your manager, Eleanor Mitchellhill.

“It’s very early in the day, Eleanor,” you answered the phone. An icy chill flowed through your screen.

“It’s not early here Y|N,” she snipped in her British accent. “Where the hell have you been? It took you longer than a couple weeks.”

“I was in an undisclosed location spending time with my friend who needed me,” you explained.

“Does this friend have a name?” she pressed.

“Elle…,” you stalled, “I don’t think you need his name yet.”

“Oh, I see,” she drew out the word. “It’s a he. Is this man the reason you’re practically glowing?” she wanted to know.

“You could say that,” you nodded.

“Well, whatever fuels your fire, I suppose,” she acquiesced. “We will come back to this soon enough.”

“I don’t need a background check, Elle,” you said, “but you’re right, we will need to talk about him later. I need a week. He needs to go to Texas.”

“And you need to go with him?” she guessed.

You sighed, “Elle, it’s complicated and yes, I’m going with him.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it in a week,” she said, dryly. “Right, let’s talk. For the love of all that is holy, when are we going to get you in the public eye? You’re cute as a button and the people will just eat you up. And my god, when they know about the mystery series…” she kissed her fingertips. “Perfection.”

“About that, I want to go public with the mystery series pen name first. The romance one, I don’t want to do yet. And I want to go public with the mystery one when the movie is about to release. Like, on the promotion circuit.”

“I suppose you’ve already talked to Jan about this?” she asked.

You nodded, “She’s aware. I also told her that when I get this script done, I want Jensen Ackles to get a shot at playing Hobart. So if he does, you’re gonna be okay with it.”

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, “Why would I need to do that?”

“He’s my friend, Elle, and I based the character on him. There really isn’t anyone better to play him.”

Eleanor sat quietly, just staring at you while she thought. “Alright. Now get that script done. And as soon as you get to Texas, I expect a call, immediately, Y|N.”

“Understood,” you confirmed.

After a few more calls and answered emails, you were able to get in some steady work and the words flew from your fingertips into the script. It was like you were putting what you could see so clearly in your head into the script. You still had the notes from when you wrote the first book so it flowed really well. The story of Whiskey Hollow was precious to you and it would have been hard for you to let anyone take over writing the script for the movie adaptation. You just hoped that what you were creating would be appealing to whichever studio wanted the script. Jan, your agent, would be working hard to find takers and you wanted to give it your best effort.

A few days later, you and Jensen had put in three very long days doing all manner of work on your script and getting his affairs in order. You had written a ton in the script and were nearing completion, but something had come up that needed to be dealt with. Your brother and mom were coming over and you were not looking forward to finally telling him your big secret.

You sat on the couch in your living room with a notebook and pen, jotting down a few words here and there as Jensen looked around while he waited. He liked to look at your things. He did it a lot when he would visit in the past. You supposed he just liked to get to know you by the items you kept, as well.

He turned toward the mantle. The light from outside shone on some glass pieces that had caught his eye. Stepping closer he realized the sparkle came from one of the crystal candlestick holders he’d sent her as a housewarming gift from himself and Danneel. Dee hadn’t wanted to sign the card, but he’d insisted. With one candlestick was the glass orb his mom had gifted her years ago and the Swarovski star he’d left for her at her apartment. Behind the glass art was a picture frame that held multiple pictures.

He needed to step closer to get a better look.

“Need my glasses?” Y|N asked from the couch.

“Hush,” he returned. The pictures were of his family on various occasions through the years. He didn’t remember some of them.

“Where was I for this one?” he pointed to the picture in the top right location.

She put down her pen and paper to join him.

“Oh, I think you were in …shit…wherever Dawson’s Creek filmed… North Carolina?” she put her hand on his back. “Your mom said I was welcome to come by anytime I was in Dallas, so I did.”

“You did? How often did you go?” he was surprised she would go to his parents’ house without him also being there.

“Maybe once every two or three years. It was usually for work when you weren’t there. You knew when I was there for the conventions.”

He looked down at her, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I wasn’t there to see you,” she smiled. “I went to see your mom and dad…and have your mom’s cooking.” She got on her tiptoes for a quick kiss. “You’re hot as hell, but even my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

She moved to go back to the couch and her notebook. He put his arm around her to keep her close. “Hey,” he waited for her gaze to meet his, “you know I don’t think that, right?”

“I wondered sometimes,” she admitted.

“When?”

Her demeanor changed and she looked uncomfortable.

“You can tell me,” he tried to reassure her.

“That time you asked me to move to Austin, or LA, or Vancouver to be closer to you.” A harsh blush rose to her cheeks. “It felt like it was only to make you happy. You were with Dee and it made me feel like your side-piece, especially when I was sure you knew how I felt about you.”

It shocked him to hear her say it, but it was hard to deny her viewpoint. Neither one of them had been very good at concealing their feelings for each other, he was realizing. It had been selfish of him to ask, but he’d truly just wanted her closer… maybe he’d just been lying to himself a lot longer than he thought.

“I didn’t realize what I was doing. I shouldn’t have asked to put you in such an awkward position,” he held her tight to his chest. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” she said. Her hand snaked up the back of his t-shirt, her nails scratching the skin of his back. “I was so close to saying, fuckit, but I would totally have tried to be a homewrecker.”

He remembered asking her and he remembered that they had gone to the fair that trip. “I should have done something after you kicked fuckface to the curb. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to make things worse. I thought Danneel and I deserved a shot. I did love her, but not like how I love you. Even she knew. It’s probably why I didn’t get any of the letters you sent to Austin. She kept them from me because she knew how much I looked forward to them, even before we got engaged.”

“You were right though. I didn’t know who I was or what I needed after the Grant situation. I thought about making a move on you, too, but I didn’t know if I just wanted to feel better or if I truly wanted to start something with you.”

“Remember that night I fell asleep on your bed?” he paused when she looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Totally watched you change your clothes.”

“Oh my god,” she hid her face on his chest for a moment. “You dirty dog,” she chuckled.

“Worth it.”

“You liked what you saw?”

He nodded. “You were my dream girl before I even knew what that meant. I should never have let you get on that airplane,” he lamented.

He released her from his embrace and watched as she went back to the couch to wait for her brother to take his sweet time arriving. When she bent down to pick up her pen and notebook, he got a good look. She still has a great ass, he thought.

There were a lot of pictures on the mantle. Mostly, they were of their respective families and some convention photo ops. Far too many with Richard, he thought. At the opposite end of the mantle held the matching candlestick and more pictures that included her travels and himself. His eyes fell on the picture of them at the lake on the deck. They’d had such a good time that trip. Young enough to be carefree, old enough to be left to their own devices. They’d gone to the tiny amusement park and rode the rides over and over. Of course, Nova had liked the Ferris Wheel the best because it overlooked the lake. She loved the water, Ferris Wheels, and me, he thought with a smile.

Finally, a half hour late, your brother, Jarrod, rang the doorbell and you let him into your house. He greeted Jensen and Jensen poured drinks for everyone while Jarrod got settled.

“Mom told me you two finally got together,” he said in his usual loud voice.

“Yeah, Jarrod, it’s true,” you said.

“If you two ever need security, I’m available. You know I’ve got that training…” he said.

You tried not to roll your eyes where Jarrod would notice. Jensen stood behind him for a moment and did it for you before coming around to sit in one of the armchairs and sip on his whiskey.

“Clif has his own guys that Jensen uses, but I will tell Clif that you might be interested if there’s an opening. But the reason I wanted you to come over is because I need to tell you something…”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Jesus Christ, Jarrod. No, I’m definitely not pregnant. I need to tell you that I don’t work for the government and haven’t for years. I did work for the NRC, but I haven’t for years.”

He just looked at you like it was old news. “You’ve been at the grocery store for a while. I assumed you just had a good retirement plan.”

Sometimes it still amazed you that you and he had the same genetic material.

“The government doesn’t pay well enough for me to buy a whole goddamned city block in town, Jarrod.”

“Don’t get pissy with me. So if you didn’t work for the government, who did you work for? You obviously had some serious cash coming in.”

It was all you could do to not attempt to strangle him. “I write books. Lots of them. And I sold a lot. I am Nova Scott and Ross Black.” You waited for it to sink in. All he did was stare at you blankly. Your brother was not known for quiet reflection and was beginning to scare you. A whole new list of worries sprinted through your brain. “I need you to be cool about this, Jarrod, and to keep it quiet.”

“Does Mom know?”

“Yeah, from the start. Like three people in the profession know, Mom, Jay, and my one employee, Jen. Now you.”

“He knew before me?” you could hear the anger rising in his voice.

Jensen said nothing but carefully set down his glass.

“Barely. I only just told him about Ross Black. He knew about Nova Scott a few years ago.”

“What about your dumbshit exes?”

“No, Jarrod. Dan knew I wrote, but he didn’t know what or under what name,” you explained.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” his voice boomed despite your plush furniture.

“I had my reasons,” you said simply.

He was obviously angry and hurt. He stood on the opposite end of the mantle from you. The sheer size of him was daunting and he scared the hell out of you when he was mad. Even if you got the upper hand, you knew you couldn’t take him. He was 8 inches taller and 150 pounds heavier, severely skewing your odds of being successful.

“Boy, nobody fucks you like family,” his volume only increasing.

“How the fuck is protecting my privacy about you?! I didn’t tell you for very good reasons.”

“You always thought you were too good for this family. Always smarter than me. The favorite child.”

“For fucks sake, Jarrod. This childish resentment needs to stop. I’m not smarter than you. I just tried harder. You’re mad at me about shit you could have fixed but didn’t and that’s on you.”

You didn’t realize you had so much built up rage.

“How long have you kept this from me?”

“Oh my god,” you were getting a headache. “I don’t have an obligation to tell you jack shit. I’m only telling you now out of courtesy because the press is going to find out about me and Jay and they will dig into who I am.”

“If you’ve been incognito this whole time, why now? You’ve known him forever. Has no one ever approached you?”

You shook your head. “What about you?” Jarrod shook his head. You sighed deeply as you told him about the plan. “If I tell you, I need to know I can trust you not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Not even Jenna.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not risking this leaking before its time. If you can’t promise me, I can’t tell you and you can leave now. Once it’s public then you can talk.”

Finally, he agreed and you told him everything. Jarrod went from fuming to understanding and back and forth as you told him your plan.

“So let me get this straight. You find out Bob is doing sketchy shit and your ‘source’ agrees to get you evidence of said shit. You find out other methods of embezzlement, not giving Dad a raise for 20 years, dad dies, you flip out at the funeral… I’m guessing that was the tipping point?” You nodded. “Debbie tries to start shit and you said what you said to her… so, are you going to do it soon, or are you just going to hold it over her, or them, or?”

“As long as they mind their own business, we’re cool. If they want to come at me, talk shit, or say any disparaging words about me and/or Jay, I will burn those motherfuckers to the ground.”

“Holy shit,” Jarrod muttered. “Still sounds like you’re the smart one.”

“No, I just hold a grudge and am willing to play the long game,” you told him.

Jarrod turned to Jensen who had been quietly listening to the exchange. “What about you? Are you good with this?”

“I know better than to get in her way. I trust her and the plan and will back her up to the end …not to mention happy to stay in her good graces,” Jensen answered, picking up his whiskey again.

“Guess I better do the same.”

The rest of the week continued to fly by. You were writing like crazy and Jensen was working with his lawyers, and team, to start getting him back into auditions for his various interests. He was collaborating with Steve, sending in voice work for his various cartoons and other voiceover work, calling all sorts of people to get his interests turned into reality. Meanwhile, you were writing, researching, asking Jensen questions and fielding calls from people like your agent, Jan.

“Hello Jan,” you answered. “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you to call again this week.” You’d sent her what you had of the completed script on Wednesday morning and she had called Thursday morning.

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you put in that script but the studio called back already and they want to have a meeting.”

“A meeting? About what? Is that good?” you asked, worried.

“In all my years, this has only happened a handful of times. You need to get over there so they can ooh and aah over what can only be a masterpiece.”

“Or they want to tell me to my face how it’s total shit and need to redo the whole thing,” you lamented.

“Sweetie, the studio doesn’t fly you out to talk about garbage. When can you be ready?”

“Um…I don’t know…I need to talk to Jensen, but I’m thinking we can go out tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Is this a package deal?” Jan asked. “If he’s included, I need to know now. I can try to get them to pay for the ticket, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“Book it regardless. He’s coming with me,” you told her. “We can cancel if need be.”

“Please tell me you’re going to get away from that tiny town you live in. You need to either be in LA or New York. You’re killing me with all of these connecting flights.”

You chuckled at her exasperated tone. “It may happen sooner than later. Hang tough, Jan. I want to try out the London West Hollywood this time.”

“Why not the Beverly Wilshire? You love that place and you can walk to the studio, you love that healthy shit.”

“Jan, that’s the Pretty Woman hotel and I’ll be going there with my new boyfriend.”

“So what, put it in one of those books you write. You are a pretty woman and that new guy of yours is a hot piece. You have your Pretty Woman experience, sweetie, you deserve it. And for what it’s worth, I like him and I don’t believe a word of the allegations. Nail that bitch to the wall. I did check around and couldn’t find anyone who had a bad word to say about him.”

“It means a lot, Jan,” you admitted. “I didn’t know you didn’t like the other guys.”

“Sweetie, you’re like family at this point. I tried to like ‘em, but it wasn’t my place to tell you who to love. I’ll get it set up and email you the details.”

“Thanks, Jan,” you signed off.

You got up from your computer to go find Jensen. The last you’d seen him, he’d gone through the bookcase. Inside the room, you’d expected to see him inside the soundproof room, but it was dark inside. You were reasonably sure you hadn’t missed a smoking hot man leave through your office, so you went for the spiral staircase to descend into the basement studio.

Jensen was at the soundboard with headphones on. His eyes were closed and you would have thought he was sleeping if not for his fingers tapping the beat on his chest. Your fingertips touched his shoulder first. He merely tensed his body before relaxing under your touch as your hand moved across and down his body. He held your arm against him then pulled you onto his lap. He reached for the keyboard and touched a button before turning his attention to you and took off his headphones.

“This is a nice surprise,” he held you gently as you settled. “I thought you were working.”

“I could say the same about you,” you returned.

“I took a little break to listen to some tracks and a few caught my ear. What’s going on?” he asked.

“Jan called. There’s interest in the script and one of the studios wants to meet on Friday. She’s going to book us a flight either for tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“That was quick. Told you they’d love it. You sure you want me to go with you? I’m looking like damaged goods lately,” he said.

You touched his face and noticed the chop job you’d done on his hair. “Diamond in the rough, maybe.” You leaned in to kiss his full lips. “Of course, I want you to come with me. No more than a couple days, remember? Plus, the hotel is across the street and there’s hella good shopping all within walking distance.” You were softly touching his face all over. “Do I have to twist your arm?”

“No, just making sure.”

“My sweet boy, I will always want you. I’ve always had your back, I’m not stopping now, so will you go with me? Did you have your heart set on driving to Texas? I promise your truck will be safe here.” You paused briefly, “We still can, I just didn’t want to rush.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he agreed. “I’m so proud of you.”

His warm hand went under your shirt and up your back, expertly unclasping your bra. You pulled the garment from your body through the arm hole of your shirt.

“You’ve done that more than once,” you noted, kissing him again and feeling his lips smile against yours.

“It hasn’t been worth it til now,” his hand covered your breast, kneading your soft flesh then moving to your nipple. “Have any other hidden rooms down here…with a bed?”

His voice had gotten deeper and quieter.

“I have a sofa in my office,” you offered.

“That’ll do.”

You sat at your desk, both working and waiting for Jan to get back to you with travel plans. You were still adding things to the script and tweaking scenes here and there when the email finally dropped in. Jensen was reading a book on the sofa. You couldn’t really see the cover from where you sat, but you thought it looked vaguely familiar.

“Time to get packed,” you told him.

He closed his book and said, “I think we can go to Texas from California. My truck will be fine here. What hotel’re we staying at, anyway?”

“The Beverly Wilshire,” you mumbled.

“The Beverly Wilshire?” he asked. Reveling in her suddenly shy demeanor.

“I’m gonna tell Jan to change to the London,” you blustered.

He sat up on the couch, “The one from Pretty Woman?”

“You know it is, jerk.”

“Nice hotel.”

“Yes it is.”

“Have you stayed there before?”

“Yes, I’ve been there before,” you told him, “For the romance movie deals.”

He got up and put the book back on the shelf and you saw he was near the section that held your Nova Scott and Ross Black books, but your mind was on other tasks and couldn’t see which one he put back. You didn’t want to assume he was reading anything other than Whiskey Hollow and let it go for the time being.

“Are we going to the mighty SooFoo tonight, or in the morning?”

“Tonight,” you answered. “Jan somehow managed to get us in with only a short layover in Denver.”

You left your office to go up to your room to pack what you would need for a few days and clothes for the meeting.

Jensen stayed behind, waiting to make sure she had gotten all the way upstairs before he went back to the bookshelf and pulled off the book he’d been reading. It was the first time he’d seen it in a long time, not since he was on set with all of the cast members reading the first #1 seller for Nova Scott. He tucked it into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over to hide it. He thought he would bust it out on the airplane and take the consequences there rather than asking her to finally let him start reading them.

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles x female reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles x you #Interlude #kazosa

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deanwinchestersgirl87 · 1 year ago

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Send me Jensen and Jared and misha stories please I'm home alone on Thanksgiving please

#jensen ackles x female reader

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wildwestdean · 5 months ago

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. ��Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

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zepskies · 5 months ago

Text

Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

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@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant

@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373

@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

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figthoughts · 1 month ago

Text

but like imagine dean fucking you with sam asleep in the same room… 18+

warnings: smut, caught in the act (dean x fem!reader)

*°࿐

“mmmph-”

you moaned against dean’s hand as he rocked his cock up into you, his tip brushing against your cervix.

“shhh, baby…” he cooed quietly, glancing over at his brother asleep in the bed next to yours.

“mmm, can’t…” you murmured against dean’s hand, following his gaze to the younger winchester. sam’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his lips parted as soft breaths flowed in and out of his lungs.

dean’s hand stayed clamped over your mouth as his eyes flickered back to yours. your walls squeezed around him in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from gushing down his length again; you knew you couldn’t stay quiet if that happened.

“baby, come on,” dean muttered through laboured breaths, “shhhh.”

you couldn’t help the little whimpers and grunts that escaped you as dean continued to thrust his hips up into you, his girthy cock stretching your pussy so deliciously.

“ahh, dean,” you moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as the pleasure continued to build.

“shhh…” dean whispered again, his cock twitching up into your cunt, “you wake sammy, babe, and he’ll be so mad.”

you felt your pussy tighten around dean’s cock again, nearing another orgasm at the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position. dean bit his bottom lip and scrunched his face, trying to hold in a groan at the feeling. he was barely keeping himself together.

the quiet but lewd sounds of him pumping into your wet cunt filled the room, along with both your soft grunts and the squeaking of the motel bed.

sam let out a groan and rolled over to face you and dean. you both froze, watching and waiting for his hazel eyes to flicker open and catch you two in the act.

but they didn’t. instead they stayed shut. dean hesitantly slid himself back up into you, keeping his eyes on his brother. you watched sam too.

your thoughts started racing around in your head and you couldn’t deny it, some fucked up part of you kinda wanted to get caught riding dean.

dean’s fingers began rubbing your sensitive clit again, making you whimper as he thrusted in and out of you.

“shush, i’m serious.”

you pouted against his hand, “c-can’t… feels too good…”

he gripped your face tighter, “we’ll have to stop if you can’t keep quiet, baby.”

his words sent a flash of panic through your body, your head instantly shaking as you grinded on him, desperate to show him you can be good.

“that’s it. nice and quiet,” he said breathily, feeling you clench around him even more, knowing you were about to let go, “stay quiet for me, angel.”

you hissed and tried to hold back whimpers as you came all over his cock again, your juices leaving a creamy ring around his length as he pumped into you.

dean groaned at the feeling of you gushing all over his cock. his own release washed over him. he shot thick warm ropes of his seed deep into your cunt, making you whimper and clench again as his hips jerked up. he pulled you down against him and buried his head in your neck, letting out louder grunts and moans.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” sam groaned. you felt a pillow hit the side of you as you laid flat on dean, his softening cock still inside you. you laughed softly in dean’s ear.

“sorry, sammy,” dean smirked as he rubbed your back. he moved his head to look over at his brother, who had turned away and pulled the blanket over his head completely.

dean laughed and pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered in your ear, “oops.”

A/N: wrote and edited this high so ignore it if something’s grammatically incorrect or doesn’t make sense LOL anyways poor sam :( i’m laughing so hard

requests and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! thank uuu <3

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester drabble #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles drabble #sam winchester #supernatural smut #supernatural drabble

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fake-bleach · 3 months ago

Text

HOTEL ROOM | SOLDIER BOY x READER

"babysitting" a nearing hundred year old supe wasn't your ideal day, nor was it ever on your bucket list. but, maybe it'll be worthwhile.

word count: 7k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, slight slow burn but very much worth it, porn w/ somewhat much plot & angst/fluff, praise/degrading, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, etc), drugs i.e. snorting shit (oops, but what else did u expect w/ him..), handjob, piv, unprotected gradual rough sex, tiny bit of hair pulling, coming inside, i thinkk that might be it? happy ending :p another disclaimer: soldier boy's def much softer/vulnerable here cus i feel like reader can change him :) (i'm delusional) :) hope u enjoy! <33

ao3 link! | my masterlist

it’s not like you wanted to babysit.

and by babysit, i mean watching a 100 year old supe that was still very much alive and well. did i also mention that he was an asshole?

probably not, but you should know that too.

“butcher! no fucking way, there's no fucking way i’m doing this shit!”

you whispered loudly in the british man’s face, trying to make sure that supe couldn’t hear you. but, god, what could that man not do?

butcher rolled his eyes at you, that constant, smug smirk plastered on his face as he shook his head. “oh, c’mon love. you’ll be fine. all he’ll do is watch the telly, snort some shit, and talk ya’ ear off,” he laughed as he stared at your annoyed expression, “i need you here, anyway. can’t have anything happen to you, you got that?”

you turned away from him for a moment, crossing your arms and glancing at the infamous man sat on the hotel bed. you bit the inside of your cheek, sighing out as your head hung low, staring at the floor. for once, you just wanted butcher to take you seriously. to bring you along for the important shit, not this.

but, what else could you do?

you moved to face him again, letting out a noise of disapproval, but your words showing otherwise. “fine, fine, okay. just this one fucking time, okay? you owe me.” you spoke loudly now, your irritation extremely evident.

“oh, come on, doll. am i really that bad?”

soldier boy’s ben’s voice made you flinch; his booming voice sending a rush throughout your body. one part of you was afraid, and the other annoyed. you whipped your head to look at him, his large frame stood in front of you now. he was more than just large; he was powerful.. intimidating. and you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t at least a.. little attractive to you. but, you couldn’t let that affect you.

he also had an unbearable ego that practically everyone around him could sense, his arrogant smile directed towards you nearly making your blood boil.

“considering how much of a conceited asshole you are, i’d say yes,” you bit back at him, returning a condescending grin in response.

ben whistled then, his smile never faltering as he took in your powerful presence and words. “phew! she’s a feisty one, yeah? she yours or is she for the taking?” he teased butcher as a low laugh erupted from him, making you groan. to your surprise, though, his question sounded genuine.

“oh, fuck you! i’m not anyone’s!” you let out, tightening your crossed arms as your eyes moved to butcher. he all but laughed, pursing his lips as he shook his head at ben, pausing for a moment. “oi, play nice you two. can’t be coming back to this room in shambles..” his eyes flickered between you and ben, licking his lips, “but, to answer your question; no, she ain’t, but good luck tryin’, mate. i tried it myself.”

you punched butcher’s shoulder at that, scoffing. “don’t encourage him, you asshole.”

butcher laughed, raising his hands in surrender and giving you an almost apologetic look as he backed up, starting to walk towards the hotel room door. “alright, bye now, love. and you–” he pointed towards ben, his face hardening for a second, “behave, will ya?”

you watched him open the door, shutting it behind him as dread filled your every being. you turned to ben again, his eyes already fixed on you with that same smirk.

“oh yeah, i’ll definitely behave.”

only a few hours in, and you already feel like you’re going insane.

a ton of snarky remarks and about a million snorts of cocaine later, you’re just fighting the throbbing headache that’s building up. hell, anyone would feel the same in your position.

ben was sitting at the small table, you at the end of the bed right next to it, surrounded by fast food and pills. using the end of his knife, he was crushing the small tablets on the table, turning them into fine, white powder. it made you cringe, to say the least.

you watched him as he lined it up, sliding his nose through it eagerly as he sniffed, snorting the line completely. he let out a groan of satisfaction, the white powder stuck on his skin as the high he so desperately craved filled his body.

you let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. for one of the greatest supes in the history of mankind, he was certainly a treasure.

not.

“what are you laughin’ at, huh?” ben looks at you, his face firm as he poses the question. your lips flip, pursing, then frowning slightly as you shake your head. “oh, nothing, nothing. you just.. love that shit, don’t you?” you accuse, a small chuckle escaping your lips again.

his face shifts, a faint smile presented. “what? you want some, is that it?”

“oh no, god no. don’t want any coke of yours, no thank you.” you turn him down instantly, almost as if you couldn’t dream of it.

he laughs now, the deep gravel in it making you shudder slightly. “s’not cocaine, sweetheart. something like it, yeah, but not coke,” he informs you, watching intently as you return your attention to him, interest piquing. you didn’t know much about these kinds of drugs, surprisingly enough considering the people you surrounded yourself with, but you weren’t completely innocent.

he takes notice of your sudden curiosity; your eyes widening just a tad bit more than usual. the way your body language shifts. he notices it all.

cocking his head slightly, he lets out a small chuckle again. “you ever done drugs before, sweetheart?” he asks sincerely, wanting to know. you deny, shaking your head, “no, i mean– i’ve smoked weed maybe once, but i don’t know– never had a reason to do it again, i guess.”

he raises an eyebrow at that, leaning back against the chair he was sat in and crosses his arms. “that so? i’m shocked,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek at he stares at you, “powerhouse like you, i woulda’ expected you to do allll that crazy shit.”

you snort, looking at him in disbelief. “you got the wrong idea of me then, soldier boy.” you tell him, emphasizing his name. boost his ego a bit more for the fun of it, y’know?

he snickers, staring at you as if you were some puzzle he needed to solve. “do i?” he pushes, leaning a bit forward, “i don’t think i do.”

you roll your eyes at him. “and why’s that?”

he breathes out, grinning even wider. “sweetheart, you’ve got it written all over you.”

your eyebrows furrow at him, confused. the fuck did he mean by that?

before you could question him, he beats you to it, laying it on you.

“i mean, your attitude with butcher earlier? i don’t know about you, but that don’t sound like someone who takes shit.” he scoffs, his eyes locked on you as he pauses.

“...and you’re not taking any of mine, are you?”

you breathe out through your nose, licking your drying lips and taking in his words. “no, no i guess i’m not,” you admit, appreciating the slight bit of generosity from him, “but, what’s that gotta do with me and your drugs?” you laugh, unable to connect the two.

ben shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and moving his forearm on top of the table, leaning on it. “you’re a curious one, aren’t you? that’s why you didn’t wanna stay with me, right? y’wanted to go out there, save the fuckin’ world, huh?” he inquires, giving you the perfect opportunity to tease him instead of taking him seriously.

“well, no. i actually didn’t wanna stay with you because you’re an–”

“stop being a fuckin’ nag and answer the question.”

his voice booms in your ears, the direct intimidation from him working on you like a charm. you swallow, eyes shifting to look at the table for a moment before returning to him.

“fine, whatever, i guess you’re right, yeah, i’m.. curious. but, fuck..” you lick your bottom lip, shaking your head as you stare out in front of you, “you try being part of this shit for years, and not being given any opportunity to..” you trail off, huffing.

“to be a hero?” ben questions.

you turn to him now, sad eyes staring into his own. “to be a hero.”

he shakes his head, wiping his mouth and nose as he inhales sharply. “you don’t want that life, kid. trust me.”

your jaw falls open a bit at him, your voice rising, “what the hell do you know about what i want? you don’t know me.”

he huffs, his hand pressing into his knee as leverage as his body leans in towards you, scoffing.

“the fuck did i go through? huh? i was asleep for decades, sweetheart. much before that, i was tortured and experimented on and treated like a piece of fucking meat. an animal.” you stare at him sadly, your demeanor falling as he looks at you with hardened eyes.

“being a fuckin’ hero..” he shakes his head, laughing as his head lowers to look down at his lap, “look where the fuck that got me.” he mutters out, his upper lip twitching as he breathes heavily.

silence fills the room between you two as the faint background noise from the television whirs. you didn’t know what to say. you just knew that maybe.. you were wrong about soldier boy– ben.

he was avoiding your gaze, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to calm himself down. you swallow, pursing your lips. “ben.. i’m sorry you went through that, i really am,” you began, causing him to lift his head at you, “but.. that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve helped people. you’ve saved people. and, yeah, maybe sometimes you weren’t the good guy, but.. you’ve done more than what a lot of people would.”

he looks at you with doe eyes, taking in your little speech. he nods, and it’s almost as if he can’t possibly believe you, but he does. he decides to trust you as your words give him the slightest bit of hope in his heart. an emotion he hasn’t felt all these years.

he sniffs suddenly, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if he were shaking himself out of it. “yeah, well, maybe you’re right. still wouldn’t want yo–” he pauses, cutting himself off, “uh, y’know, going through that.”

you give him a small smile, understanding him completely. it was hard for him to be vulnerable; you knew that now. but, you appreciated his efforts nonetheless. it made you see him.. differently. the way he spoke to you about his experiences.. you wondered if there truly was a good man underneath that harsh persona.

“well, thank you.. soldier boy.”

“oh, stop with that shit. ben.”

you smile. “ben.”

“alright, love. m’ sorry, i promise i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

you groan into the phone held against your ear, picking up the words of the same british man on the other end of the line. god, i’m never letting him off the hook, you thought to yourself.

“okay, yeah, whatever.”

“don’t stay mad at me–”

you cut him off, “bye, butcher.”

“bye, love.”

you hear him end the phone call, the sound making you throw your phone down on the bed irritatedly. “the fuck happened?” ben asks you as he sits up on the bed, putting the remote down from surfing through channels with you for hours now. it was nighttime before you knew it, and you spent most of the day talking to ben here and there, as well as watching random shows and movies. certain topics were definitely touchy, but you were starting to get to know him more, and him with you.

you huff, walking over to the empty side of the bed to sit down next to him, crossing your arms. “we gotta stay here for the night. butcher n’ hughie are being held up with some.. shit, and don’t want us leaving without them.”

he lets out a chuckle towards your frustration. “don’t see a problem with that.”

you roll your eyes, turning to face him. “of course you don’t, you’re like– a million years old. i’m bored!” you whine, groaning. you don’t mean to act immature or fussy, but fuck, you were younger than him and needed other kinds of entertainment to survive (dramatically put). shitty television just wasn’t doing it for you.

he scoffs, “oh, fuck you. i can be plenty of fun, doll.”

“oh, yeah? prove it.” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

he smirks at you then, leaning in a bit closer as his face grows snarky. “you want me to show you fun?” he teases.

you groan, grimacing, “ugh, grossss..” you draw out, swallowing sharply as you turn away.

what you didn’t want to do was recognize the butterflies you felt at the thought. or the way your heart skipped a beat at him growing closer towards you. fuck, no.

he snickers, eyes still fixed on you completely. “oh, c’mon, honey. y’know i’m a great fuck. n’ besides.. it’s been awhile..” he teases you further, and he makes it sound so sleazy that it feels like a joke; fuck, maybe he really was just trying to rile you up.

you shake your head though, playing along. “nice try, ben. gonna have to try harder than that, though.” you stand your ground, giving him a faux smile.

he raises his hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders. “hey, i’ll fuckin’ work for it, baby, i’ll tell you that much.” he admits, grinning at you.

you try your hardest to keep your composure, fighting the heat growing in your face, especially with that new nickname he gives you. a weak spot.

fuck. this was gonna be much harder than you thought.

you’re finishing the leftover fries that ben requested earlier, snagging them from his side as you laid next to him on the bed; cold and soggy, and definitely not appetizing, but you’re working with what you’ve got. you feel the bed shift before looking up at ben, his eyes on you as he moves.

“so, other ideas of fun..” ben trails, standing up from the bed and walking towards the table.

“i’m listening..” you curiously give in.

he grabs his knife, pouring out the remainder of his pills, and starts to crush them, noticing the way his eyes look up at you, eyebrows raised.

“you do a line with me. just one–” he suggests, his attention focused to see how you’ll react. “and you can loosen up for fuckin’ once.”

you grimace at his suggestion, denying him immediately. “no, ben, i don’t.. i don’t know. this isn’t my kind of thing, you know that..” you speak, evidently unsure of the act. come on, snorting some random, crushed up pills? didn’t sound like much fun to you.

he puts the knife down, turning his entire body to fully face you now. “hey, you said you were curious, didn’t you?” he raises an eyebrow, “doesn’t hurt to try it once. besides.. you can trust me, can’t you?” he teases, a sly smile on his face.

you huff, “yeah, sure. sure i can.” you joke at him, sarcasm filling your voice entirely. your face drops though, seriously contemplating his inquiry. “okay, seriously, though. it won’t fuck me up.. completely, right?”

he laughs at your question, his low voice rumbling. “not unless you take more than you can handle, baby.” he tells you, starting to crush the pills again. “i’m right here, though. i’ll getcha’ through it. promise.”

you were shocked at how.. kind he was being with you. how utterly careful he was with you now. it was odd, to say the least. but, you liked this side of him. maybe that’s why you were starting to feel so comfortable with him now.

you think about it for a few seconds longer before ultimately coming to a decision. “i.. okay, okay. just once.” you agree, nervously standing up from the bed and approaching the table, pulling up another chair to sit next to him.

fuck it. what else did you have to lose?

sitting down, you watch carefully as he proceeds to crush up the pills, examining how fine the powder turned. ben uses the knife to separate it, forming some of it into a line that was a bit shorter than what you saw him repeatedly snort earlier.

was he making sure he wasn’t giving you too much? maybe. you didn’t want to think of it too much.. his intentions. you couldn’t.

you swallow tensely, eyes flickering from the table to his face as he finishes, his own setting themselves on you. he gives you a small smile; an almost encouraging kind, providing you with a bit of comfort.

he raises an eyebrow at you. “you ready?”

“uh,” you stammer out, biting your bottom lip, “what exactly.. is it, though? i mean, what’s it gonna do to me?” you ask warily, second thoughts arising in your head.

he sighs out as he attempts to think of what to say. “these here are bennies, as we call em’. or, well– what i call em’,” he lets out a small laugh, cocking his head, “they’re amphetamines. they’ll just.. give ya’ a bit more energy.. that euphoria people talk about,” he explains to you as thoroughly as he can, “shouldn’t last too long, n’ if anything, you can try to sleep it off, sweetheart. no harm, no foul.”

he watches your face as you absorb his answer, noticing your features relax with each second that passes. he grins even more, listening to you.

“okay.. okay, doesn’t sound.. too bad. let’s do it,” you quickly spur out, shaking yourself out of it. “fuck it.”

“atta girl.” he gleames, his hand lifting to rub your upper back gently for just a moment; a moment long enough to send chills down your spine. the first time he’s really made any physical contact with you, and you’re already a mess.

fuck, why did that feel good? why did that sound good? it was a harmless gesture.

you need that high, and you need it now. maybe that was the only way you could get through this long ass night with him.

“okay. do i just.. sniff it, uh?” you ask him, letting out an embarrassed laugh as your lips turn upwards. he nods, his own lips curling. “don’t overthink it. you’ve seen me do it a hundred times now,” he tells you confidently, muttering out the last words, “y’know what to do, honey.”

you just nod, leaning your head forward and slowly putting your nose against the right side of the line. before you can allow yourself to back out, you slide your nose towards the left, snorting it completely. you lift your head up, an abrupt cough escaping your throat as your nose burns, your eyes rolling back before shutting tightly.

“oh, there you fucking go. there you go, baby, there you go..” ben softly praises you, his words almost echoing in your ears as your head thumps. his hand returns back to your skin as he rubs your back in circular motions, your breathing growing heavy as you feel the drug enter your system.

“oh, fuck, ben, what the fuck!” you let out, a laugh escaping your throat as your head grows hazy. you turn to him, his hand still rubbing your back, which was definitely helping, and you grin widely. “that was fucking crazy!” you all but yell, excitement getting the best of you. what a way to show your experience, huh?

he chuckles, shaking his head as he stares at you. “alright, don’t get ahead of yourself, peaches. barely gave you half of what i’d normally do,” ben tells you, teeth bare as his smile widens, “that’s enough shit for you, little lady. can’t be too much of a bad influence on ya’, can i? butcher would rip me a new one.. or he’d try, at least.”

you giggle at that, your composure slowly, but surely, fading. “oh ben, aren’t you supposed to be a big n’ bad supe?” you breathe out, “he’s just a man.. and you’re a.. superhero.. y’wouldn’t let him..” you murmur out, eyes dazed out as you look at the man in front of you. his scruffy beard.. his messy hair.. the details in his skin.. fuck.

was he always this pretty?

you giggle again, his hand slowly lowering to the midst of your back to rest there. he chuckles lowly; an action that makes your breath hitch. “oh, sweetheart.. you’re feeling it already, aren’t you? quicker than i thought..” he trails off, cocking his head, “you think i’m some big, bad supe? s’that it?” he teases, lips curling up as he breathes you in, inching just a tad bit closer. “think i wouldn’t let him get one in?” he whispers.

you shake your head, smile dropping as your face hardens. “no, no, i wouldn’t, nuh uh,” you deny, biting your lip as energy suddenly surges through you, your filter entirely out the window. “i’ve seen you, you know? i mean, who hasn’t? videos of.. the way you fight.. you’re strong..” you mutter, swallowing as you giggle again, “so strong.”

he laughs, his index and middle finger connecting to rub subtle circles on your skin, “have you now?” he asks almost matter-of-factly, “you did research on me, baby?”

your stomach drops a bit, butterflies storming your stomach at the nickname again. you stammer out, “no, no, not research– i mean– yeah, i.. searched you up, but i jus’ wanted to see who you were before i.. came here, but.. s’not like i.. put that much thought into it, i–” you spit out, an involuntary laugh erupting from you as your cheeks heat up from your confession. a lie that escapes straight through your teeth.

oh god. why the fuck were you saying all of this shit outloud? stop!

he shrugs, a sly frown swift on his lips. “don’t gotta make a fuss about it, honey. s’cute. real sweet of you..” he grins, the hand so glued onto your back sliding down sleekly, fingers gripping onto your hip now. you gasp softly at the sudden touch, his grasp on you pulling you just a bit closer to him. your chairs are right next to each other, hips nearly joined together now. he whispers out, his mouth close enough to catch your ear, “sweet girl like you.. i’m honored you think of me that way. wouldn’t have suspected it from how feisty you were earlier.”

you roll your eyes at him, avoiding the flutter in your core as the drug builds up inside of you, fighting it. “oh, come on. you probably used to get this shit all of the time.”

he breathes out, shaking his head. “not from people i want it from..” his jaw falls open as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, murmuring, “..not from you.”

your breath hitches in your throat, turning your head to look at him as your cheeks flush. you gulp, heartbeat quickening as you notice his gaze entirely locked on you. he was being serious. this wasn’t some kind of sick game of his.

you remain quiet, unsure how to respond. too nervous, too dazed to come up with some snarky remark you usually would; that you should bite back with. but, you don’t.

instead, ben’s fingers dance on your hip subtly, his other hand lifting up to caress your face; his thumb gliding against your cheek, trailing down to your bottom lip as his gaze that was once on your eyes fixes onto your mouth.. gorgeous as ever.

his thumb catches itself on your lip, pulling it down gently as he hums, satisfied. you gulp, shaking your head gently as you process what this was leading up to.

“ben.. we shouldn’t..” you whisper out, shutting your eyes for a moment as you pull away from him; just enough to have his hold off of your face. he was a fucking supe, for christ sake. you were human. and sooner or later, he’d be gone again; just like that. you couldn’t. no matter how much you so desperately craved it.

he lets out a disappointed noise, breathing out through his mouth, “why not, sweetheart?” he closes in on you again, lips near your ear as he hums, “don’t you like me, baby? don’t you want me? i like you.. n’ i sure as hell.. need you..” he sighs out, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin on your neck, your body trembling at the feeling.

you groan softly at his words and the touch of his breath against your skin, shutting your eyes tightly. he huffs, pushing his nose softly against your neck, inhaling your scent and rapidly muttering out, “c’mon, baby, c’mon.. gonna take care of you, yeah? make you feel good, don’t y’want that?” he presses kisses on your neck, slowly trailing up to your cheek as his hands move to cup your face, quiet gasps escaping your lips. your eyes open up hazily, rolling to the back of your head as you lift your neck just enough to give him more room.

you don’t even think before you’re pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, quietly moaning into it as your eyes flutter shut again; your disoriented mind taking over your body completely. he groans against your mouth, his soft lips becoming so harsh against yours, needy and having been deprived of this pleasure for so long.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath as his large hand grips your face, the hold on it tight and rugged. he turns your head to the side, moving in to attack your neck once more with his lips, teeth grazing the skin as he grunts, his body closing in entirely.

it’s primal; instinctive and downright dirty the more he grows impatient. no longer gentle; not him, not now. he all but stands as he leans into you, his free hand moving from your back to your hips, wrapping his arm around you as he uses his super strength to lift you up effortlessly. you yelp as he picks you up, placing you directly on his lap as he settles himself back in his chair, your legs hung around his sides to the best of your ability.

“pretty fucking girl.. you stay right here..” he murmurs out, returning his kisses on you as if his seamless actions were nothing. his hands move to grip your hips tightly now, pushing you further into his lap as you involuntarily grind into him; his cock through those grey sweatpants of his beginning to harden.

“b-ben,” you stammer out, pants heavy as you let him touch you, feel you just how he wants, and you, taking him as you please. your hips and their movements quicken slowly, gradually building up and up the more your cunt throbs against his clothed skin; the way his strong hands keep you moving for him without a second to waste.

your cloudy mind from the drug intervenes with your control, unable to fully grasp your feelings or words that slip from your mind, keeping you completely vulnerable to the man below you.

god, did that annoy you.

but, fuck, did it feel so good.

“need you to fuck me, please, ben, please..” you whine out, grinding your core against his hardened cock faster, harder, your impatience getting the best of you. he laughs against your skin, a small moan seeping out of it as he gently bites your neck. “so needy, aren’t you, baby? gonna give you what you want, don’t you worry..”

the hands on your hips find themselves lowering, landing on your ass instantly as ben squeezes, groaning out at the feeling of your flush skin beneath his fingertips. he takes control of you easily, moving your body along his thighs and digging your cunt where he needs it the most.

the constant friction makes you wetter with each push of his hands, his cock imprinting against his sweatpants with a perfect outline, your panties growing soaked at the sensation of it. an incoherent string of noises falls out of your lips, the gasps and moans sounding like porn to ben’s ears. a satisfied laugh from him shakes you to your core, that deep rumble multiplying your arousal.

you take matters into your own hands, fingers pushing down against his wrists to get him to loosen his grip on you, which he does. you scoot yourself back to disconnect your body from his abdomen, hips stilling on his thighs now, giving you an enticing view of the strain in his pants.

“i said..” you breathe out, mouth falling open as you look into his eyes, lust pouring out of them, “i need you to fuck me,” you emphasize, your fingers moving to palm his bulging cock through his sweats, “so, fuck me.”

you can’t be bothered anymore. you’re past waiting.

your hands slowly find a rhythm as you maintain eye contact with him, ben immediately reacting with a low moan as his hips thrust needily, “fuck, baby..” he hisses out as your fingers slip to the waistband of his sweats, your hand reaching beneath the layer. to your surprise, and delight; no underwear.

god, he was a fucking whore. you loved it.

“jesus christ, ben,” you let out a laugh as you wrap your fingers around his cock, putting just enough pressure on it, and it makes him twitch against your touch. it elicits a throaty whine from his lips that has you clenching around nothing, squeezing him tighter, tighter. “jus’ take what you want, sweetheart, need you ‘round me, c’mon, ” ben spurs out rapidly, his words the least coherent they’ve been; his usual, old hollywood-esque diction in his voice gone.

soldier boy, begging you with your hands on his cock and your ass in his lap?

you couldn’t have possibly dreamt of this moment till now.

you try to hold yourself back, but the little amount of sobriety inside of you’s hardly strong enough to help you achieve that. no more waiting. not now.

“you’re lucky i’m impatient,” you breathe out, and before ben can react, you’re slipping his cock out of his sweats, the heavy weight of him on your hand sending you into a damn near spiral as he twitches against your fingers again, pre-cum practically leaking out of the tip.

you let go of him though, fingers desperately moving to the waistband of your loose sweats to slip them off. ben’s helping you immediately, lifting your hip for you with one hand, and the other hurriedly pushing them down, nearly ripping them off from the pace and force; off, off, off, he all but mutters out with eager noises.

“stupid fuckin’.. fuck, g’off–” ben grumbles until they’re successfully on the floor, and he sighs out in satisfaction, “no more fuckin’ waiting, n’more teasing.”

you nod hurriedly at him, bare legs exposed for him now as his fingers dig into your thighs, taking no second to waste to slide to the hem of your panties, fingers hooking onto them. “useless fuckin’ things,” ben murmurs, and before you can protest, he rips them off seamlessly, throwing them to the floor.

your jaw falls open, gasping out at him, “ben! fuck, i needed those! i didn’t pack any–”

he shuts you up instantly, his thick index and middle fingers finding your slit, swiping through your soaked folds, and you whine loudly, the sensation making your core tighten. he hushes you softly, looking up at you eagerly, “shh, shh, honey, y’don’t need that shit with me, not now. gonna fuck you right here. now. you’re soaked already.”

your heavy eyes stare into his own, nodding eagerly as the tip of his fingers bump against your clit, sending a jolt throughout your body. he moans with a short laugh, leaning in to press a messy kiss to your mouth, his other hand just above your ass. he taps your lower back, muttering, “come up here.. gonna have you sit on my cock.. get in as deep as i fucking can.”

you grunt at his words, whining, “fuck, please, ben..” as the sole thought of it sends pulses to your pussy. you nod frantically, immediately scooting closer on his lap to reach his member, kneeling on the sides of his body to lift yourself up. ben’s hand grips the base of his cock to lift it up, and he’s hard, the girth making you drool. you gulp, wondering how the fuck you’ll fit it in, but you’re too high to fucking care.

you position yourself above him, the fat head of it lined up to your cunt perfectly. his hand on your back helps you move closer, the tip nudging against your hole as both hands grip your hips now, fingers digging into your skin. you bite your lip as you look down at his cock, core tensing in preparation. staring into his eyes now, you move, lowering yourself slowly as your walls engulf him bit by bit, inch by inch.

both of you moan as you take him, clenching around him so much that you nearly see stars. you’re so tight around him, and he’s in heaven.

ben groans loudly as his eyes fix on your pussy, and it’s porn right in front of him. he sputters out mindless noises, gritting his teeth as you finally take him to the hilt, feeling his cock fill you up, nudging the deepest parts inside of you.

you hiss out as you sink, your thighs colliding with his own as you adjust to him. “you’re so fuckin’.. tight, oh fuck, sweetheart..” he whines out, and you’re relishing in this; in him. you start moving, hips involuntarily rocking against him as you move up and down. it’s messy; out of rhythm and desperate, but so fucking good.

“haven’t..” he grunts, gripping your hips harder for leverage, “fucked a pussy like this in a long fucking time.” his breaths grow louder the more you move, your throbbing hole just above the tip and slamming back down repeatedly. your core tightens as he starts to thrust up into you, meeting your synchronized movements immediately, and you cry out as you take it.

you blabber out mindlessly at the sensation, incoherent whines and what seems to sound like ben’s name over and over again filling his ears, and he just laughs, lifting himself from the back of the chair to sit up, adjusting you with him. his chest meets your body, chin resting on your shoulder as his hand finds your hair, gripping it tightly and pushing your body into him. he’s flush against your skin as he huffs into your ear, the hot breath engulfing your brain. your fucked out head and blown, wide eyes.

he moves against you as you bounce on his cock, words spurring out with his harsh pants on your skin, fingers tightening into your hair, “no thoughts in this pretty head, huh? nothin’ but my fucking cock in this cunt. s’how it should be. pretty girls like you.. s’what you’re made for.. made for me.”

your head scrambles at his words; the way they’re so filthy, but most of all?

because of how right he is.

he fits inside of you like a glove; a perfect hole that’s meant for him to fuck. it has your eyes lolling back over and over again, unable to truly focus on the task at hand. and when your movements begin to slow because of this, ben’s grip on you handles it for you, hips thrusting up into you aggressively. your stomach tightens repeatedly as the tip of his cock hits the deepest parts inside of you, practically bulging out with each hit into you, and it makes your pussy convulse around him, rambled noises escaping your lips.

“am i right, honey? are you made for me?” ben growls in your ear, his harsh grunts echoing, “fuckin’,” he huffs, “answer me..”

his words hardly register in your brain as you grow closer and closer to your release, short moans being the only thing you can muster out, along with a few noises that almost sound like ben’s name. “mmphf– b-be– ah–”

he shushes you, arms wrapped around your body, “don’t gotta think baby, just feel.. let me take you like this, just feel me..” ben whispers desperately into your ear, moving one of his hands to reach between you, the large palm pressing into your lower abdomen, “right fucking here. you’re gonna feel me for fucking days, baby.”

it has your stomach doing flips, body quivering against ben’s hold. your eyes shoot open as he begins to slow his thrusts, relying on pure power rather than speed now. his hips snap into you repeatedly, slow and deliberate as if he needs to make sure your body memorizes the shape of his cock.

and, knowing him? you probably will.

you know that you’ll never get fucked like this again. you know that you’re already completely ruined for any other man now. and a part of you’s okay with that.

his fingers gripping your hair. his hands digging into your skin. the strike of his hips, holding you captive for him as he takes you. how could you think of anything else?

ben’s power over you doesn’t relent at all, his super strength enough leverage to keep himself completely occupied. the hips slamming inside of you have you seeing stars now, your eyes threatening to twitch open in bliss as he buries himself in your throbbing cunt. you involuntarily flutter around him, walls pulsing as your core constricts.

you feel ben’s cock twitch inside of you, his moans growing heavier as he lets out a breathless laugh, “you’re so.. close, i can feel you, sweetheart..” he grunts and snarls, his thrusts quickening rapidly, “and you’re gonna come on my cock like the good girl you are.. while i fill you up.. make sure i stay in this sweet pussy forever.”

you cry out as that familiar heat in your stomach arises, blurting out nonsense, along with a, “p-please, ben, please–”, that leaves you panting.

“yeah, baby? want me to come inside of you, s’that it?”

you nod furiously, whining out as your face heats up at the thought, flush and its sensation overwhelming you. you’re hot all over, and you just need a release.

“that’s my girl.. my sweet girl. gonna come inside of you, give you what you need..” he breathes out against your ear, and before you realize it, you’re convulsing around his cock, yelping out as you come. your hands grip onto his back, his arms, anything you can hold onto as you ride through it.

“there we go, baby, just like that, my fuckin’ girl..” he encourages you, overstimulating you with his unrelenting hips as he buries himself inside of you over and over again, making you clench around him uncontrollably. you’re spewing out mindless moans as your walls spasm, and it makes ben whine.

he grunts out rapidly, unable to control the noises he makes as his hands on your hips feel tight enough to leave bruises, “gonna.. gonna fuckin’, oh– fuck!–” he moans loudly, cutting himself off as he pushes you down to the hilt, cock twitching rapidly with his come spilling inside of you. you feel the streams of hot white bury inside of you, and you’re lightheaded at the feeling, the aftershocks of your orgasm forming tears in your eyes.

you whine against him as you hold on tight, his hips rocking into you as you both ride it out. it’s almost intimate at how breathless the two of you are, taking in each other completely.

he huffs against your skin, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. it’s wordless, but it goes without saying.

this was a moment you’d never forget. and you hoped that he wouldn’t either.

eventually, ben lifts your hips up, his cock sliding out of you as the mess you both made slips out of your cunt, making you whine at the feeling of his come falling out of you. the slick catches itself on his cock, spilling onto his grey sweats sloppily, and you can’t deny the twinge of arousal the sight brings you. leave that for another time.

you take a deep breath as you let out a small laugh, preparing to say something about getting up and cleaning yourself up, but to your surprise, ben’s arm holds onto your body tightly, lifting you up as his other hand shoves his sweats down, feet stepping out of them. he’ll deal with it later.

you yelp as he stands up fully with you in his arms, carrying you as he walks over to the shitty hotel bathroom, lowering you to stand in the bathtub. ben hums softly as he grabs a small rag, running warm water underneath it and squeezing out the excess water.

you’re in too much.. shock to bring yourself to say anything, but when he brings the rag to wipe your inner thighs and core, you let out a noise of surprise, cheeks warming up. who the fuck knew soldier boy could be so.. gentle?

he doesn’t look up at you as he continues. instead, he asks, “what? too hot?”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “no, just right.”

he lets out a satisfied noise as he finishes cleaning you up thoroughly, throwing the rag to the side as he grabs another one for himself, repeating the process. you watch him in awe as he does so, and you try your hardest to make sure you don’t fall in love with him.

but, when he carries you to the hotel bed and lays you down like you’re glass that might break, it seems a bit too late for that. and when he gets in that bed with you and holds you like his life depends on it?

you know you’re done for, and you’re in for a ride.

#fake-bleach #my writing #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #the boys season 3 #the boys season 4 #soldier boy fanfiction

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thesilmarillionblog · 5 months ago

Text

COME CLOSER

Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits

Word Count: 4052

A/N: English is not my first language.

You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”

Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious.

He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.”

“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”

“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.”

He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”

“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”

“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”

“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner.

“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.”

Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle.

You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying.

He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble."

"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it."

"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance.

Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds.

"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands.

You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you."

"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage.

"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt."

“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”

Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though.

“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”

He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair.

This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.”

You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”

Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.

Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.

You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.

Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.

As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.

Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties.

“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried.

His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment.

Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together.

“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled.

You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly.

“About?”

You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?”

Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow.

“You already heard me.”

Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”

“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.

Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”

You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”

“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly.

“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”

Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”

Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response.

“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”

You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree.

He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”

“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made.

Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest.

His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that.

“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”

You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.

You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.

Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.

As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.

Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.

When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.

He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”

He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.

You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.

“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.

You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.

With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”

You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.

“Ben, it feels sensitive.”

“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”

You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.

“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.

The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.

As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”

Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”

You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.

He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”

You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.

You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.

You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.

He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”

“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.

His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.

Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.

After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks.

You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you.

Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip.

He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”

He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”

As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down.

Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you.

You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen.

He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”

When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”

Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body.

He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”

You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm.

With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue.

He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more.

He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits.

His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes.

Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed.

When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it.

You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?”

You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better.

You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

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anundyingfidelity · 8 months ago

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400 followers ask: Jensen and reader on a red carpet or something and they start to like each other after filming the boys but they're too scared to admit it. The reader kiss him first (Jensen is single obv) 🥺 thank you!

absolutely!!! i'm happy to write a drabble for jensen, this was a cute idea, hope you like it :)

event guidelines ✮ event masterlist ✮

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

CONFESSIONS — Jensen Ackles x female reader

Word count: 526 (oopsie lol).

Genre: fluffy stuff.

Warnings: none.

Jensen flashed you a charming smile, making your cheeks heat and your legs tremble slightly. Since you arrived at the red carpet along with the cast, Jensen wouldn’t leave your side. When shooting, he made a good friendship with you and after not seeing each other for some time you were stuck together without even noticing, going out and meeting at yours or his place.

During the event, you couldn’t shake the thought of his clinginess towards you. Him taking your hand once you had a short interview, you wrapping your arm around his own while walking, the way he placed his hand on your hip for photos… Jensen never got away from your side. You just wanted to kiss him and confess those feelings that flourished while on set.

Standing by his side behind the theater, your co-stars and team gathered together before leaving for the after party. And being honest, anyone with two good eyes could tell you were a couple. Bad news, you were only very good friends.

“I need some water, I’ll be back,” you announced to him through the bustle of your co-stars.

“I’ll go with you,” Jensen offered, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a break room far away from the noise.

You couldn’t really explain how he made you feel every time he grabbed your hand. Any inch of his skin touching yours left you breathless and your stomach flipping, your skin warm because of the proximity.

Once you arrived at the empty break room, you poured yourself a glass of water. He beamed as you calmed down the thirsty feeling quickly.

“Want some?” you offered.

He shook his head and his precious eyes traveled from your beautiful face, down to your dress hugging your figure perfectly. He gave you that look before but he never said anything. You had to know what was going on before lying to yourself.

“You know, I was thinking about us,” you started.

“Like how?” his brows furrowed but you could see a playful sparkle on his gaze.

“Like we talk a lot, we go out, you hug me a lot, we talk about life, you can’t let me go today, and honestly, I feel like I know you like the back of my hand…”

Jensen bit his lips, his eyes moving down to your lips. “I don’t know, it’s a habit I guess.”

You let out a soft chuckle, taking a step closer. You almost felt his chest against yours and the heat radiating. “Really? That’s your excuse?”

“You tell me,” he whispered, his lips an invitation to taste them.

In a heartbeat, you pulled him for a soft kiss, one of your hands around his neck as the other cupped his bearded cheek. Jensen gripped your waist to pull you closer, his hand resting on your hip until you were out of breath.

“Well, I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” Jensen smiled softly, his free hand caressing your cheek. “Should’ve said it sooner.”

“Nah, I said it and kissed you first. That’s a gold medal,” you grinned.

He pecked your lips again. It was indeed.

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles imagines #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles the boys #jensen ackles fluff #400followerstag!

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cryptfile · 4 months ago

Text

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #the boys smut #soldier boy smut #the boys x reader #the boys fanfic #the boys #soldier boy #jensen ackles #cryptfile // the boys #smut

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 4 months ago

Text

FIRST TIME

PAIRING : teenage!dean winchester x teenage!fem!reader (au)

SUMMARY : reader finally decides to give her virginity to dean

WARNINGS : young love. fluff. smut. horniness. cunnilingus. fingering. under-aged sex. rough sex. semi-pubic sex. unprotected p in v. aftercare. attentive dean. strong language. praise kink.

A/N : this oneshot is a prequal to homework [if you haven't read it yet, go check it out!] thank you to everyone who's read and supported it, it means the world. i plan on making a few more oneshots (that could be read on its own) in this universe. let me know what you think 😆

Your eight-month anniversary with Dean was today. In a (good) way, it felt longer. Growing up, you were taught to respect your body. You were told to wait for marriage before having a man worship at your temple. It was "the best gift you could give your husband," at least that's what they said. Until now, you haven't had a problem waiting. Sure, you had urges from time to time like any teenager, but no one had made you feel how you felt with Dean.

The longer you spent with him, the more you craved. It wasn't just his physical attributes but his personality, too. Every exchange of words, every shared moment, and every heartfelt conversation only entrenched your love even further. It was the way he protected you, cared for you, and loved you that made you feel safe. Until you, he had no interest in dating. Why would he when all he wanted from girls was something they offered him freely?

You had been the first girl ever to deny him, and that's what drew him in. He wasn't looking for a relationship, but hearing the word 'no' intrigued him. Suddenly, finding ways to get your attention was his priority. Whether it was meeting you at your locker every morning with flowers, seeing you after school to offer you a ride home, or even cornering your best friend for help winning you over, he didn't stop. It wasn't until you overhead your peers discuss how Dean dismissed any girl who engaged with him that you took him seriously.

And there he was again, at your locker, with the brightest bouquet of tulips, your favorite. His charming smile beams towards you, filling you with joy from across the hall. Students pass by, talking amongst themselves about you. "Watch, she's going to blow him off again." "How could she do that? He's so hot." "He's only trying to win her over to get in her pants. She's not even that cute." Even though it wasn't in your nature to ignore them, you chose not to cause a scene, not with them anyway.

A smile lit up your face as you focused on Dean. "Hey," You greet once you're standing before him.

"Hey, beautiful," You couldn't help but blush at the pet name, loving how it sounded coming from his mouth.

He hands you the flowers, and you happily accept them. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He leans against the locker beside yours, watching you open your own. You inhaled the bouquet before gently placing the tulips inside. "I'm sure I know the answer to this, but would you like to go out sometime?"

You close your locker and stare into his dreamy eyes as you reply, "I'd love to."

His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. It seemed he was ready for you to turn him down again, and as much as he wanted, he didn't expect you to say yes. He leaned away from the lockers as a smile stretched across his face. His infectious smile brought one of your own. You always imagined saying those words to him, and now that you did, it was better than you had dreamed it would be.

"Really? T-that's great! Does tonight work?"

"Yeah, tonight's perfect."

"Awesome, I'll pick you up at eight."

You weren't a bold person, but you couldn't resist standing on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Your hand rests against his arm, maintaining your balance as your lips press against his face. Even though your gesture was small, he closed his eyes and enjoyed your lingering kiss. You slowly pull away and lean back on your heels. The passing crowd seemed to still at the publicly displayed affection. Hush conversations began as everyone gawked at you two. Before doubt could seep in, Dean grasped your attention.

"Don't listen to them."

You nodded, listening to his words and ignoring the others. "I'll see you tonight."

The Impala comes to a soft halt in the middle of the grassy field like it did all those nights ago. A smile appears when you realize he's recreating your first date. Dean had taken you to his favorite diner in town as the sun had set before coming here. The pur of the engine ceases, and his door creaks open. You've learned over the months to wait for your boyfriend rather than exiting Baby by yourself. Despite your protests, he insisted on being the gentleman his parents raised him to be, someone he was, only with you.

Dean helps you onto the hood, then joins. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. Your backs lean against the windshield, heads tilted towards the night sky. Stars litter the dark canvas above, shining as bright as the first time he brought you. A warm breeze blew through the trees, over the open field, and towards the Impala. Crickets play their song as the rustle of leaves hum from afar. It was a scene out of a romance novel.

A content smile found its home on your face. You didn't need to talk to feel comfortable with him and were confident he felt the same. Being in his presence alone filled you with a sense of safety. Dean has had his share of fights defending you, whether you wanted him to or not. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you knew deep in your soul that wouldn't change. That's why you decided tonight was the night you'd give yourself to him completely.

Tearing your gaze from the stars, you direct your admiration towards your boyfriend. Feeling your stare, he turns his undivided attention towards you. You lean forward and connect your lips with his. He doesn't waste a moment to kiss you back with just as much passion. His hand runs through your hair, sending tingling sensations across your scalp. You breathe him in, quickly accepting his tongue. He leans over your body, deepening the kiss. Eager for more, you push him back against the windshield and straddle his hips. Your ass grinds against his lap, and he pulls your hair, breaking the kiss, only to attach his mouth to your neck.

Small moans escape your peppered throat, the light breeze carrying them away. The feeling of Dean's growing member rubbing against your entrance made you apathetic toward the marks he was leaving behind. You'd happily deal with the evidence later. Your eyes squeeze shut as the friction becomes overwhelming. Shallow breaths leave your lungs as tension quickly builds in the pit of your stomach.

With one hand on the back of your head and the other at the bottom of your spine, he lays you across on the hood. He hovers over your body before continuing the actions from before. Dean harshly rubs his bulging jeans against yours, and your legs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Your body clings to his, only encouraging him to grind harder. Desperation gets the best of you when your walls clench around nothing.

"I need you," You breathe out.

Dean stops his movements and stares into your eyes, asking, "What?"

"I need you—I want you."

"A-are you sure?" He inquires as he rises to a seated position.

"Yes, D." You sit too and reassure him. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. What better time than on our anniversary?"

He hesitates but says, "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't expect—I would've planned it out if I knew you were ready. I imagined our first time—your first time—to be perfect. Not in the back seat of my car; You mean so much more than that."

"I know, but it can still be perfect."

"How?"

"Well..." You take his hand in yours, squeezing gently. "I think losing my virginity to the boy I love under the stars sounds pretty perfect to me."

"That sounds great, but the 'where' part is still an issue."

You glance around your surroundings before settling with, "Right here."

His eyebrows draw together. "On the hood?"

"Beats the backseat for my first time. And, I don't know, having sex on the hood of the Impala sounds sexier."

A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head. "Does it now?"

"Mhm," You hum as you scoot closer.

He inhales sharply once you gently press your lips against his throat, instantly finding his sweet spot. Because your relationship hadn't gone further than second base, you both had gotten pretty good at teasing each other. You had to admit, there were a few times when you almost caved out of sheer lust. But tonight was different: you were ready. A grin plays on your lips as your other hand trails down to his tightening jeans. Groans fall from his mouth as you palm his erection and sink your teeth into his sensitive skin.

Your hand undoes his pants, and before you can slip your hand in, he lays you back down. His lips capture yours, and you quickly move in sync. You pull his shirt up, hinting you wanted it off. He complies and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the ground. As he kneels in front of you, you pull his jeans down and see his boner through the fabric of his boxers.

After discarding his pants, he reaches for yours to peel them off. As he did that, you quickly took your shirt off. You were both now in your undergarments, staring hungrily at one another. He hovers over you and kisses down your neck towards your chest. Your body goes hot, growing hornier by the second. His fingers drag the straps of your bra off your shoulders as his mouth places wet kisses on the top of your breasts. You arch your back, giving him access to unhook your bra.

The outline of his cock presses into your clit, distracting you from your unruly thoughts. His warm tongue finds your left nipple, licking it before taking it into his mouth and gently sucking. He doesn't leave the right one unoccupied for long. His fingers lightly pinch and twist your hardened nipple. You close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure his mouth, fingers, and dick are creating. The intensity of his member grinding against your clit and the stimulation of both your nipples were driving you to the edge. Suddenly, his mouth unlatches itself from you, causing you to open your eyes in confusion.

Dean's large hands run down your thighs, sending goosebumps along your skin. His fingers loop around the waistband of your underwear, and before he goes further, he silently asks if it's okay. You nod and watch as he pries your soaked panties from your body. Instinctively, you try closing your legs, feeling insecure. Flush ran throughout your entire body. You had never been this intimate with someone, and it was frightening. He detects your lack of confidence and promptly makes you feel comfortable.

"You're so beautiful." He praises. "So much better than I ever imagined."

His fingertips lightly ran over your skin as if he were afraid to hurt you. They cupped the back of your knees and gently lifted until they bent. Dean slowly kisses down your thighs, and between each peck, he compliments you. You feel your insecurity disappear the closer he gets to your most intimate area. Without wasting another moment, his face devours your pussy as if he were a starved man. You arch your back as he licks your cunt clean, skillfully working through your folds. Your eyes roll back once his nose presses against your clit. Before you knew what was happening, you came all over his tongue.

"Oh, God," you pant with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to—I didn't know I was gonna cum so fast."

Dean lifts his head from between your thighs, the area around his mouth glossy with your juice. "Don't ever apologize, you got it?" After you nod, he dips down again, slurping up every last trace of your arousal, humming, "You taste so fucking good, princess."

You tug at his hair, squirming underneath his face. His thumb finds your bundle of nerves, rubbing it in circles, making your body unexpectedly jerk. You watch as he removes his countenance and trails kisses up your body. He lays on his side next to you before tucking his arm around your shoulders. The beating of your heart quickens as he applies the right amount of pressure you didn't know your clit needed. Your hips buck upwards while a whine slips past your lips, wanting more.

His fingers travel further down, running through your glistening folds. You knew what came next, the anticipation deafening. Slowly, he slides his index finger inside you. A content sigh falls from your mouth, enjoying how his digit drives in and out of your cunt. Dean sees your pleased and lazy smile, and a smirk emerges on his lips before adding another finger. You inhale deeply, feeling the difference between one and two fingers. It doesn't take long before his thick fingers pleasure you once again.

You bite your lip to stifle your moans, not wanting to annoy your boyfriend with your uncontrollable squeals. He notices and mumbles against the side of your mouth, "Let it out, princess. I want to hear every little sound you make."

That was all you needed to hear. Dean's fingers worked faster, taking you near the edge, and your moans told him so. They grow louder with each thrust, but the moment his fingers curled, you lost it. Your hand grabbed his hair, holding on as he fingered your g-spot. The muscles in your stomach contract, and you get that feeling again; your climax begins. You close your legs, thighs wrapping around his arm, making the high intensify. His consistency doesn't falter, and his digits fuck you, only taking you higher. Once it ends, your legs fall, and he pulls his hand away.

Your chest rises and falls, trying to catch your breath. Dean brings his drenched hand to his mouth, his eyes finding yours before closing his lips around his fingers and pulling them out at an agonizingly slow pace. Fuck, you thought. Watching him suck your fluids from his digits alone could've made you cum again. Your left-hand slips into his boxers before wrapping around his erection. A small groan falls from his lips, having never been touched like this by you. Without having to see his length, you felt it was rather long. You pumped his silky soft cock a few times and felt him twitch. His previously soaked hand pulls off his remaining clothing, freeing his large member. Your eyes widen; He's much bigger than you imagined.

How was he going to fit? You wonder. He saw the worry in your eyes and ran his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your face before kissing the tip of your nose. Dean gently grasped the hand that held him and intertwined your fingers together as he hovered over you. He nudges your knees apart, and you happily allow him between your legs. This was it. This was what you both have been waiting—what felt like anyway—an eternity for. Your mind was ready, but you weren't sure if your body was.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," Dean reassures. "I'll go as slow as you need."

You nod, intoxicated by his affectionate attentiveness. "Okay."

His lips connect with yours, kissing your nerves away. He rubs his tip through your folds, coating it with your wetness. You break apart and angle your head to watch his cock disappear in your awaiting pussy. The pain as he stretches your walls rips through your body, forcing your eyes shut. Your face scrunches in discomfort as he pushes in further. Whines come from your mouth as he slowly bottoms out. Dean stays still, kissing your forehead as you adjust to his size.

"I know, princess, I'm sorry. I promise it'll feel better."

You nod in response. Soon, your eyes open as the pain becomes tolerable, whispering, "Okay, you can move."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Dean's eyes scan over your countenance, trying to detect any lies. When he saw none, he began to move. You inhale sharply as the pain rushes back. His hips stop their retraction, but you quickly shake your head in protest.

"Keep going," You say through gritted teeth.

Without question, he pulls back until his tip threatens to slip out. Slowly, he drives back in. You squeeze his hand and wrap the other around his shoulder as your legs cling to his torso. His lips pepper your face with kisses as he continues to thrust the discomfort away. Over the months, you've seen the womanizer everyone knew Dean as vanish. He always took care of you—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend, especially right now. His effort to soothe you seemed to have worked. The pain turned to pleasure, and you ached for more.

"Faster," You murmur into his ear.

He bit his lip, trying to distract himself from spilling his cum so soon, but the way your walls squeezed around him made it nearly impossible. Dean picks up his speed, playing his own game of russian roulette. You felt his cock twitch inside you, prompting a moan and the tightening of your insides. He buries his head into your neck, attempting to postpone his climax. The pleasure began to build in your stomach, and per his earlier request, you made it known.

"Fuck, babe. If you keep it up, I'm going to cum." He groans.

You giggle, "Isn't that the point?"

He thrusts deeper, answering, "Not until you do."

A new wave of satisfaction washes over your body, making you moan louder, begging, "Harder."

Dean complies, bucking his hips into the back of your thighs. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. You untangle your hand from his and dig your nails into his back. Sure, you had daydreamed of having sex with your boyfriend hundreds of times, but you never imagined it being this mind-blowing. His member deliciously bruises your g-spot, causing pain and pleasure to fight for dominance. Sounds you never thought you could make fall from your mouth, encouraging him to quicken his pace. The Impala rocked side to side, utilizing the suspension's swaybar with each vigorous thrust.

"Fuck, Dean. Just like that, baby. Don't stop." You beg between moans.

The tension in your belly threatened to snap any second. The area just under his waist rubs against your clit, coercing your chest to arch into his. He presses you into the warm hood, keeping your squirming to a minimum. Tears flood your eyes as your immense climax approaches. Your body tenses as it braces for your last orgasm, squeezing Dean's phallus for dear life.

"Cum on my cock, princess." He urges as he fights off his own release. "I know you can do it. Mm... 'Want to feel you come undone on my dick. C'mon, sweetheart, do it for me."

His words were all you needed to fall over the edge. Except you didn't fall, you flew. Your fluids gushed on his member as you screamed into the night air. His thrusts began to falter, but he forced himself to ride you through your high. Your toes curl while your eyes roll back, your climax taking control of your body.

Unable to fight off his orgasm any longer, he hurriedly asks, "Where do you want it?"

You can barely form words as your body shakes uncontrollably. "D-d-does-n't ma-tter."

The weight of Dean's body lifts from yours as he sits back, pulling himself out and grabbing his wet member. Your eyes refocus in time to see him accidentally ejaculate on your folds. His cock twitches again, this time spraying across your upper body. A breathy groan falls from his parted lips as ropes of hot cum coat your skin. You feel his seed drip towards your entrance, daring to breed life with you. The thought of carrying his child brings a smile to your face. No, no. You're too young, you remind yourself. Can't start a family with him yet. He bends over your body and kisses your lips. He presses his softening dick against your wet folds as you kiss him back.

"As much as I love bathing in your cum, I think I wanna clean up so we can cuddle." You pant, trying to catch your breath on the way down from your high.

He chuckles against your lips before sitting up again. "I'll be right back."

Dean climbs off the Impala and opens the back door. You lay still as the fluids threaten to leak onto the hood. He shuts the door, returning with a blanket in one hand and napkins and a water bottle in the other. He sets the blanket on the windshield before hopping next to you. He wipes the mess away and uses the water to remove the stickiness left behind. Once he finished cleaning you up, he tossed the dirty napkins off the car. He lays beside you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into his bare chest, listening to the beat of his heart as he pulls the blanket around you two.

He stares at the night sky, gazing at the stars, when you confess, "I love you."

Your boyfriend kisses the top of your head, mumbling against your hair, "I love you too, sweet pea."

"Thank you for being my first."

His hand gently lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "Thank you for trusting me to be your first."

Your lips curl into a smile, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

FOREVER TAGS : @jaredpadonlyyyy, @nicksalchemy1, @impala67rollingthroughtown, @nancymcl

DEAN TAGS : @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @angelbunny222, @niktwazny303, @criminalyetminimal, @angelicp0etry, @lucid315

SUPERNATURAL TAGS : @nikimisery, @celticma

JENSEN TAGS : @cheynovak, @deadlymistletoe, @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld, @ladysparkles78, @kindollss, @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

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nuemanfilms · 4 months ago

Text

nsfw

18+

I fear, Dean Winchester doesn’t know how to act when you let him explore his breeding kink with you.

He’s panting, thrusting at a rough pace, his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your guts. He’s so good at this, thumb rubbing your clit as his thick cock stretched your walls.. He’s a sex god. And his hands, god his hands. One pressed against the bulge in your stomach and one on your throat.

He whispering filthy words in your ear. Praising you, telling you how good you feel pulsing around his cock like that. How you’re gonna look so beautiful with your tits all round and your belly all full with his child.

He’s groaning, “Fuck, gonna look so pretty full of my babies.. gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, make it where you can’t walk for days. But I think you’d like that huh? When your friends ask who did this to you, you say my name, because i’m the only fucking one who can make you feel like this, aren’t I?” his words were so rushed, yet so clear. Your fingers tangled in his short locks while his hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off some of your breath supply.

“Fuck, you’re gonna take it, you’ll take all of it.. Such a good girl, shiiiiiiittt…” and then he’s releasing warm spurts inside of you.

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader

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kazosa · 2 years ago

Text

Wildwood Prequel: Tempted

Summary: It's been years since Jensen has visited you in your tiny hometown and you wanted it to be a special visit. However, your boyfriend didn't make it feel very special.

Pairing: female reader x Jensen Ackles

Word count: 15k

Warnings: language and a cussy nickname, fighting, talk of shady dealings, mentions of past abuse

a/n: please remember, this is fiction and not intended to be disrespectful to any real-life people

It had been quite a while since Jensen had visited your tiny town and you wanted to make sure everything was perfect in your apartment before he arrived. He was getting to be a big-shot, in your eyes, and you wanted things to look nice for him, like you assumed he was accustomed.

“Who are you trying to impress? I thought this guy is just a friend?” your boyfriend of several years asked.

“He doesn’t come here very often. I want to give him a nice welcome.”

“Or you could just keep it nice like this all of the time.”

“Or you could not trash my place every time you come over. You know, clean up after yourself, like adults do,” you frisbee threw a game case of his at him.

“Doesn’t your ‘boyfriend’ play video games?” he almost sneered.

“That has nothing to do with anything, Grant. I don’t mind your playing video games. I mind that when you’re here that’s all you do,” you countered.

Grant went to where you kept his games in the tv stand and pulled out a few more, then went back to the door to put on his shoes, saying nothing the whole time.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I am going to play my video games somewhere else.”

“You’re not going to stay to meet Jay?”

“Nah, I’d just mess it up, right?”

Grant reached for the door but it was already opening. Jensen stood on the other side, looking his typical handsome self so effortlessly. Gray shorts, black band t-shirt, backwards hat, tennis shoes and a ridiculously small suitcase.

“Hey, how ya doin’?” he stuck out his hand, “Jay.”

Grant just looked him up and down before walking away without another word.

“Charming,” he said to you. “Who was that guy?”

“My boyfriend,” you moved so he could step inside. He smelled of your favorite cologne of his.

“Seems like a real winner,” he closed the door.

“Don’t start,” you warned.

“Y|N, I’m not even here 5 minutes and I already don’t like the guy. Why was he talking to you like that?”

“Eavesdropping, really?”

“When I hear a shitty tone…”

You sighed heavily. “I guess he didn’t like me calling him out on how he’s messy when he’s here.”

“So he takes advantage of you?”

“Can we not talk about Grant, please?”

He patted his chest, “C’mere. I haven’t gotten my hug yet.”

You gladly took the hug from Jensen. He wrapped you in a cocoon of his affection and melted away your stress. As always, it had been too long since you’d seen him last and you felt like you had a lot of catching up to do, though you often wrote to one another.

He released you from his bone-crushing embrace and you felt a lot better.

“How was your trip? Did everything go okay? Did you drive from the airport?”

“It’s hard as hell to get here,” he said.

“It’s not a cakewalk to see you either,” you smiled.

“No shit. I’m still surprised you come to so many conventions. I need to come here more. The trip was like all the rest. And yeah, I drove here from the airport. Wait til you see the car.”

“Ooo! What’d you get?”

“I said, ‘wait.’ You need to show me around again. You’ve changed things since I was here last,” he said.

He only knew the obvious, but you were holding onto a secret to surprise him. You did the basic tour of the living, dining and kitchen since they were all one room. New windows and planter boxes with fake plants, because you have a brown thumb. Refinished wood floors throughout. Down the hall to the guest bath which had new fixtures and tile.

You opened the guest room door, “Your room sir.” You stepped into the room and bowed with a flourish.

You waited and watched as he tried to figure out why it was so bright in the room. He scanned the corners before finally looking up.

“Whoa, that’s cool. I’m surprised the landlord let you do that,” he said.

“Well, kinda been keeping a secret from you,” you showed him to your room where he could see two more skylights, “I own the building.”

He looked very confused. “And? What else? How did you save that much money? I know you negotiate the shit out of everything and even if you cut a smokin’ deal on this building…”

“Which I did.”

“...Buildings like this don’t go for under a hundred fifty grand,” he paused, waiting for your response. “Spillit, what’d you do?”

“I wrote a book and sent it to a bunch of publishers hoping someone would publish it and make some money and one publisher did and not only did people buy it, a whole shitload of people bout it and now I’m kinda well off but not filthy rich yet,” you gasped after saying all of that in one breath. “Oh my god, it feels so good to finally tell you that. I’ve been holding onto that since the last time I saw you, but I didn’t want to say anything unless it fell through or the book was a flop, but it wasn’t.”

The gears in Jensen’s head were spinning at max RPM.

“What book?” You took his arm and pulled him around the corner inside your bedroom to where you had your desk set up…and a big goddamned poster hung on the wall.

“That’s my first ever cover art. It hung outside a Barnes & Noble in New York City for two months.”

Jensen studied the enormous poster, “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I’ll be damned.”

“What? Why?!”

“Don’t panic. No shame in the game sweetheart,” he said.

“You sounded like Dean just then.”

“Funny you should say that,” he turned to face you and pointed sideways at the poster. “There were people, that means guys too, who were reading that book on set for a couple months, at least. If I had known it was you, I would have read it, too. Not to mention, I would have had serious cool points.”

“No. God. I’m glad you didn’t read it.”

“Why?”

“It’s basically FULL smut and I would never be able to look anyone in the eye again if I knew they read it,” you felt very hot all of a sudden.

“Oh, you dirty, dirty girl,” he crooned. “Now I really want to know all the shameful things you wrote about.” He spotted a copy on the shelf and reached for it.

“Don’t you dare! I will die right here and you’ll have to resuscitate me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he teased.

“I had onions with lunch.”

“Sinner.”

“Promise me you will never read anything I write with a romance cover.” He just looked at you. “I mean it, promise me,” you poked his chest.

“Ow! Meanie,” he rubbed his chest.

“I need you to say the words, Jay.”

“I promise,” he said.

You poked his chest again.

“Ah-ha-howww! Okay, bony fingers,” he took a step back, “I promise I won’t read any of your filthy smut, money-making books.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“I’ll just buy the audio book,” he teased, narrowly dodging another bony-finger jab. “Who was your inspiration? Anyone I know?”

“I can’t with you. I’ll be in the living room when you get control of yourself,” you said.

“Sounds like something dom would say.”

“What?”

“What?” Y|N turned back around to walk out and he snickered. “Seriously though, is that supposed to be me?”

“Gerard Butler!” she said and flipped him off.

“Ach, a fine Scottish lad,” he said to himself as he looked around her desk and room. A stack of notebooks. Cup full of pens. Pictures of random things pinned to a cork board. On another wall she had her ridiculous number of convention photos with him and his friends. She had him do funny stuff, but Jared…he might have to have a talk with him.

The picture that really made him sit down and take notice was the one she had on her bedside table. It was a picture of the two of them when they were kids. He’d come up with his family to visit and they’d gone to a little resort town not far from where Y|N lived and rented a cabin for a week. He’d had the best time. They went out in the lake a lot, either swimming or on jet skis. They rode on a paddle boat, went to a little amusement park, rode bikes all over. Mackenzie and Josh were old enough to not need him or Y|N to look after them and Y|N’s brother was older than both of them, so they could do almost anything they wanted.

The picture was of them on the deck that overlooked the lake, sitting on the deck swing together. By the look of the picture, it was nighttime and Y|N was leaning on him to get in close for the picture. They both looked a little sunburnt and a lot happy.

“I always loved that picture. Great summer vacation,” she said from a few steps inside the doorway.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “And you keep it next to the bed where your boyfriend can see it?” She nodded with a shrug. “You savage.”

“I barely know him in comparison to you,” she said, flopping down on the bed, staring up through the skylight.

Jensen laid down, too, so he could look, with her.

“Fuckface doesn’t know about the book and your money, right?” he asked.

She snorted, “No. I told him I really liked it and bought the poster. Told him the books were an oops. He doesn’t even know I own this building. He just knows I can afford things, so he doesn’t ask questions.”

You both laid there for a minute, watching the clouds float by.

“I bet it looks cool at night,” he said.

“You’ll get to see it from your room just fine,” you didn’t move.

“Don’t marry that guy, Nova,” he said softly.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” you realized.

“He’s not mister right.”

“He’s Mr. Right Now.”

He twisted his head and neck to meet your gaze. “Someday, I’ll settle down with someone, but not him. He has weird feet,” you said. “I don’t want any potential children to get his weird feet.”

He laughed, “I’m glad you have standards.”

“How’s Dee?” you didn’t want to ask.

“Hmm,” he should have seen that coming, “She’s good.”

Please don’t fall for her and marry her, you thought.

“Are you guys getting serious?” you asked.

He thought for a moment, unsure of what to tell Y|N.

“Yeah, it kind of is… it is. We worked on a movie… I got to know her really well. I really like her, Nova, can you just try to like her, too?”

“For you, I will try.”

After bullshitting and catching up, you were getting hungry and went into the kitchen to get dinner going. The last time you got groceries, there was only one thing you specifically wanted to make for Jensen and had bought the needed ingredients. You pulled out a bowl, cutting board, colander, pot and two knives. Jensen came out of the bathroom and found you making all of the noise in the kitchen.

“Ey, what’re we doin’?” he asked, coming around the corner.

“Making you a home-cooked meal,” you said. Jensen went to one of the stools at the island. “Don’t sit there, you’re helping.”

“Just checking the stability of the stool,” he wiggled it a little. “You should fix that. What do you need me to do?”

“Anyone ever buy your bullshit?”

“All the time.”

“I bet,” you rolled your eyes.

“The trick is, you gotta believe your own bullshit. Really sell it,” he made a fist and slowly pumped it.

“Get out the tomatoes, green onions and garlic,” you told him, shaking your head.

He did as he was told and laid them out on the island.

“Grab the salt, pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and parsley.

You were rinsing off the onions one by one because they always had a little dirt still on them and you were pulling off any wilted pieces. You had the whole process down to a science but you absolutely hated cutting the tomatoes. “You start cleaning the tomatoes.” You put the pot on the stove and used the pot filler to get it to the level you needed and threw some salt in the water. Once the water was heating, you went back to Jensen and the vegetables.

“Start seeding and dicing the tomatoes,” you said.

Jensen just looked at you.

“Seriously? How did Donna let you get away with not helping in the kitchen?” you wanted to know.

“I’m a guest!”

“Guests don’t have a key to my apartment, Jay. If you don’t help, I’m not making this for you again.”

“Pretty confident,” he picked up a knife and tomato.

“Damn right. I guarantee you’ll want me to make this again.”

He shook his head. “Whatever. Do you have any meat to go with this?”

“I don’t eat red meat,” you said.

“You eat hamburgers and meat sauce…”

“Yes, and that is browned. I can’t do it if it’s pink or red.”

It was his turn to look at you in shock. “All the times we’ve eaten together… I never noticed. I don’t know what to think about this.”

“You act like I’m a criminal,” you chopped the onions.

“I’m not sure I even know you.”

“Oh shut up, get on those tomatoes,” you laughed. “I figured we could go to the butcher tomorrow. George doesn’t work in the afternoons.”

“Gotta love small towns,” he was making quick work of the tomatoes. “How do you know the butcher by name if you don’t eat red meat?”

You grinned, “It’s a small town and I’ve lived here all my life. And George is a butcher, that means all meat. Besides, I gotta get my ground beef somewhere.”

For a few moments, you were both quiet while you made dinner. Finally the water came to a boil and you could add the noodles. While you combined the ingredients into a separate bowl, you told Jensen to go to your stereo and put on some music. He chose one of your vinyl albums. The speakers hissed and crackled a moment before it went quiet, then the music began… with a familiar heartbeat. Huey Lewis & the News started with The Heart of Rock & Roll.

Jensen turned to face you, tapping his hand on his chest along with the heartbeat in the song. Ever the showman, Jensen was about to perform for you while you stirred the noodles. He danced around your apartment, singing along the whole time. He flopped down on your couch just as the song ended, only slightly winded.

Finally finished, you drained and cooled the noodles, then put them in the fridge to cool longer. Heart and Soul was already playing.

“Still not ready?” he asked.

“Good lord… are you going to waste away waiting ten minutes longer?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Tough shit, whiner.” You started dancing to show how much you did not give a fuck. You waved your hands for him to get up and dance with you. One thing about being with Jensen was that neither of you ever got embarrassed around the other and you both could be as dorky as you wanted.

Bad is Bad began and the whole vibe changed. He took your hands and did slower movements with you to match the song tempo and danced in an early 60s dance style. You didn’t remember the song having such a sultry feel to it, but dancing with Jensen, and to that song, had you feeling a certain kind of way.

The song wound down and he pulled you close. Your heart was racing and you thought he might kiss you.

“Well! Looks like I got home in time for dinner and a show!” Grant said from the door. “What in the hell is going on here?”

Jensen let go of you and put himself between you and Grant.

“Nothing, man. Just dancing with my friend,” Jensen explained.

“Is that what it was? Because it looked like a scene from Dirty Dancing in here,” Grant’s voice was filled with accusation.

“Have you ever danced with her?” Jensen briefly waited, already knowing the answer. “You should, she’s got good moves.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grant shoved the taller Jensen.

“She’s a good dancer. I don’t want to have to put you down, pal,” Jensen raised his hands, showing he didn’t want to fight.

“Damnit, Grant, back off!” you told him. “You’re making something out of nothing.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I am,” Grant said, voice dripping with poison. “And to think I was going to apologize for before. How long have you been after Y|N? Have you been fucking her on all of her ‘business trips’? Is that what you did while I was gone today?”

“Grant!”

“You got a lot of nerve, pal,” Jensen tried to keep calm.

“Yeah. I walk into my own apartment and see some guy putting the moves on my girlfriend, but I’ve got a lot of nerve?”

“Dude, she’s not your girlfriend. She’s more like your mom cleaning up after you and allowing you to be in her presence. How much have you mooched off of her? Do you contribute anything to the relationship? You worthless piece of shit.” Jensen was ready.

You moved to the other side of the island as Jensen got the response he was hoping for when Grant threw the first punch. Jensen easily dodged the attempted blow and deflected Grant’s momentum. What Jensen hadn’t anticipated was how scrappy Grant was and he came back at Jensen full force with a tackle, tumbling them both to the floor with a loud thud.

The sounds of fists meeting flesh reached your ears from your side of the island and two of the bar stools toppled in the fray. You turned on the water to cold and aimed the sink sprayer at the floor and opened fire, dousing them both with the icy water.

“That’s enough!” you shouted, banging on the empty pot with your plastic Pampered Chef spoon. Jensen hopped up quickly but Grant couldn’t help getting in one more cheap shot and sucker punched him in the gut.

“I should press charges!” Grant shouted.

“No you fucking won’t,” you snarled. “Give me your key.”

“What? Why?” Grant was utterly clueless.

“You are no longer welcome in my house.” you said as calmly as you could muster.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Give her the key, fuckface,” Jensen said in a tone that warned not to make him ask again.

“Hand it over, or I can have the cops take it from you,” you said.

“We’re done,” Grant said and put the key on the island.

You rolled your eyes. “I thought I already made that clear. Your face had better not darken my doorway again. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t look in my general direction. You’re dead to me as soon as you walk out the door.”

“Yeah, okay, you talk a big game. You fuck with me, I’ll fuck with you back,” Grant threatened and wiped at the blood on his face.

“Maybe I do talk a big game, but… am I? You have no idea if the rumors about my family are true, do you?” you asked. Seeing the appropriate reaction on his face, you opened the door. “Don’t threaten me. Just get the fuck out.”

Behind you, you could feel Jensen wound tight as a spring waiting for Grant to try something else. You stood out on the landing watching to make sure Grant left the building. When you heard the door latch click into place, you went back inside your apartment.

Jensen had set both of the stools back on their feet and was at the record player when you went back inside. You were just in time to see him flip the vinyl in his hands and carefully place the needle. He surprised you with his choice since it wasn’t the flipside of Huey Lewis.

“Bob Seger, nice choice,” you said, flipping the deadbolt and security latch on the door.

“Let me look at you,” you said, noticing Grant might have landed a blow after all.

You had him sit on one of the barstools where you proceeded to manhandle his face under the pendant light at the island.

“Is it bad?” he asked, hissing when you hit a tender spot.

“No, not really. Looks like a scuff, but we should clean it up so you don’t get cooties from him,” you said.

“Are you going to come at me with a wire brush, or will you be gentle?” he asked.

“Whichever one you want me to do, …opposite.”

He sighed loudly, “Bring the pain, I guess.”

“My brave boy,” you patted his shoulder. “C’mon, I don’t want to haul out the first aid kit out here. And don’t you dare try to make a break for it.”

He followed you to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet lid. You pulled out the kit from the medicine cabinet and set it on the small counter next to the sink. You pulled out the items you needed and got out a washcloth. Once it was wet you put a lot of liquid soap on the washcloth and held it to Jensen’s cheek.

“What rumors?” he asked.

It took a moment to remember what you’d said earlier to Grant. “Oh, well, my grandpa had a large family and ran a construction business with some of my uncles. So heavy equipment for grading, welding and cutting torches, et cetera. Some not nice guys got into a bad situation and, allegedly, my uncles made the situation go away.”

Jensen looked up at you with eyes wide, “Allegedly?”

“Nothing was proven. Not even enough to arrest anyone.”

His eyes darted around the small room, processing. “Was Sir part of it?”

You snort laughed, “Jensen, you can stop calling my dad ‘Sir’ I think you’ve gotten past that part.”

You took the washcloth from him and rinsed the wound, gently wiping away Grant cooties.

“Answer the question.”

Trying not to actually laugh in his face, you answered, “No, my dad was not part of it. In his family, he’s one of the 3 youngest kids and was about 12 when that ‘situation’ happened. It was an allegation directed at my older uncles.”

“Sure am finding out a lot about you tonight,” he mused. “How come you never told me this before?”

“It’s not something one really goes around talking about, ya know? Sometimes secrets need to stay secrets. And it’s not about me, it’s about my uncles. It’s handy to have that particular card in your back pocket in case an asshole starts throwing punches at my friends.”

He seemed to accept this answer.

“Do you tell your friends about me?” you asked him.

He shook his head slightly, “No, not really. They know about you. They know I’m here visiting you and know you’re important to me, but that’s about it. I only ever tell them about ‘Nova’. They didn’t even put it together about your book. Hell, I didn’t even connect it.” He thought a moment, “I kind of want to keep you protected. Do you tell your friends about me?”

“I’d like to, but… I don’t know… I kinda like to keep you to myself. You’re like the ultimate hidden gem. Even if I did, they wouldn’t believe me. I’ve gone to three conventions now and they just think I’m obsessed with the show. Told ‘em I wanted to see my friend Jensen and they’re just like ‘mhm, okay’ and roll their eyes.” The wound was looking better, it wasn’t deep at all. “This is going to sting.” You didn’t give him a chance to react before you put your hand over his eye and sprayed a couple shots of rubbing alcohol on the wound.

“Mmmmmmotherfucker!” he growled.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you said, and without thinking you leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Awkward silence followed as you cleaned up the first aid kit and rinsed out the washcloth.

“Why do you even have the kit?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, I’m a klutz, or so I’ve been told. …and sometimes Grant needed it.” you explained.

“That’s not comforting.”

You didn’t say anything further about Grant. “The noodles are probably perfect now.”

Being so close to Jensen tended to overwhelm the senses. Even after knowing him so long, you still hadn’t become desensitized. You got out the pasta and ingredients bowl from the fridge. You needed to get yourself together. You only just kicked out Grant, and Jensen was still very much involved with Dee. You didn’t want to do anything stupid that would be the cause of any unhappiness in Jensen’s life, or yours. You dished up the noodles and Jensen joined you from the bathroom. You pushed the pasta bowl at him.

You got your bowl ready then went to the stereo to load up the CD player tray with music you knew you would both like. Your usual favorites were hand and it only took a moment to be happy with your selections. You put the Bob Seger album away then told the CD player to shuffle before returning to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink of your favorite soda.

When Jensen was ready, you had him follow you to your room and the fire escape then led him up to the roof where you had a deck built with a pergola, sun shades, lighting, speakers and a fan. It was your little oasis and it was a great place to watch any weather come in, too. So far, it was breezy, but not windy. By the look of the clouds, you thought it might rain after dark.

“This is great,” Jensen said.

“Yeah, you can see everything up here.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Tonight, we’re chillin’ like villains,” you turned on the power to the pergola.

“Dude.”

“I know,” you grinned. You turned on the fan and the speakers which played the music from your CD player. Tomorrow we’ll go to the butcher. We’ll need to stop by The Liquor Store and Sportsman’s to visit my grandma. At some point, we’re having dinner with my parents. Friday is the first full day of the fair, so we can go to the park and check out all of the stuff there. They’ll have a lot of vendors selling all kinds of stuff, there’s a car show, games. Saturday has the parade, more stuff at the park, lots of animals, fair food, crowning of the county princess. The fair itself has at least 3 big rides and one of those potato sack ride things, huuuuuge Ferris Wheel… I’m sure there’s more, but I can’t think of it all right now. You’ll be begging to go back to work to get a break from it all.”

“Gotta love small towns,” he said again, then took a bite of the pasta.

You watched for his reaction.

He looked over at you.

“Go on, say it. I know you want to,” you smirked, taking a bite.

“Alright,” he took another bite, “This is really good.”

“And?”

He rolled his eyes. “I want the recipe,” he grumbled.

“Thank you.”

The music from the CD player came through the speakers you’d had wired and was a nice background sound for you and Jensen to chat. Though it was after 7 PM, it was still hot as hell and not cooling off at all. You hoped the cold front would come through sooner than later. You bumped up the fan speed and tried to ignore the trickle of sweat running down your back.

It didn’t take long for either of you to finish what you’d put in your dishes.

“How do you not eat everything you made in one sitting?” he rested a hand on his happy belly.

You laughed, “Sometimes I do. Usually I just make enough for me, though. Wanna go for a drive, or are you too beat? We can get ice cream.”

“You had me at ‘go for a drive’.” he said getting up from the adirondack chair your dad had made. He turned to help you up from yours.

“Nice chairs,” he noted.

“Thanks, my dad made them for me.”

“No shit? Nice work.”

You both started walking back toward the fire escape.

“And how is Sir doing?” he asked.

Ever since Jensen first met your dad, he’d had an abundance of terrified respect for him and always referred to him as “Sir.” It may have been due to the fact that your dad was even taller than Jensen and intimidating as hell.

“Are you ever going to use his actual name?”

“Maybe when he doesn’t scare the shit out of me,” he said, reaching the stairs. “Is this his handiwork, too?” he indicated the metal fire escape.

You nodded. “He didn’t make it, but it’s his design,” you answered. “The last set was pretty old and rusting away.”

“You and your family have quite the skill sets,” he mused.

You didn’t know if he was referring to your uncles’ side-business, or your immediate family. “What do you mean?” you followed him inside the window and to the kitchen.

“Your mom does interior design, crafts all kinds of stuff, and has made some amazing flower arrangements. Your brother is an artist, publishes a comic, and does some crazy hand-lettering. Your dad is a self-taught engineer, woodworker, hella smart, hella scary…”

“...not sure that’s a skill…”

“And you… you seem to have all of those skills and you write novels, best-selling novels…”

…it’s only one…”

“But I know you. I saw your board. You’re writing another.”

“True, I am… why are you telling me this? You and your family are pretty awesome, too. You can memorize scripts so easily and can do pretty much anything you want… Are we just saying we’re impressed with each other?”

“And you’re athletic,” he nodded.

“You’re athletic. Just because I can do things that resemble sports doesn’t mean I like to sweat. You do that shit for fun, not this girl.”

Jensen snickered then started humming Sweat by Inner Circle before eventually softly singing the lyrics. You went to close the window in your bedroom so fuckface wouldn’t try to get in that way, assuming he could get past your dad’s security method he built into the ladder design. You knew the lyrics to Sweat quite well and you didn’t know what to think of Jensen, who was in a “pretty serious” relationship, humming that for you. You had just broken up with Grant.

“Get it together, Y|N,” you told yourself. “He’s not a rebound guy and he’s not hitting on you.”

Once you cleared your head, you met Jensen by the door, which he held open for you, allowing you to pass by him. The two of you went down the stairs and to the back of the building to where Jensen had parked his rental car. It was going to take you forever to get that damn song out of your head…and the meaning…but you made a mental note to use it in your novel.

Outside, you were greeted by a sleek, black Range Rover.

“Holy shit,” you said, gaping at the car. “This was at the airport?!”

“Yeah, I was shocked, too. Hop in,” he hit the unlock button and opened the door for you.

You were quite impressed with the vehicle. Nice interior, quiet ride and very posh. You told Jensen how to get to the place that sold the ice cream and he pointed the car in that direction. You both got the establishment’s version of a Blizzard. Jensen got Reece’s Pieces, and you got your favorite flavor. Ice cream in hand, you had Jensen cruise the main streets, of which, there were three.

Jensen felt the need to walk off the ice cream, so after driving through the park, he stopped at the parking lot outside of the park and near the walking trail.

“I see why you like it here so much,” he said, walking by the river with you. “It’s just…nice.”

“Yeah, it’s really small, but everything I need is within driving distance. Then I can come back here where it’s nice and quiet.”

“Ever think I could tempt you away?”

That’s a loaded question, you thought. “Depends. I’d need a good reason to leave all this,” you waved your hand around. You could hear the irony in your own voice. “Not opposed to it. What’d you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “Just wish you were closer to Texas or LA or Vancouver.”

“Oh, yeah, that would be nice, but I’m good here,” you said. And I don’t want to be tempted by being too close to you.

“Maybe someday,” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. On the surface, your friend asked if you would ever move to Texas, or wherever, to be closer to him. Jensen could ask questions with such subtle nuance that he made you wonder if things were as “good” as he made them seem, with Dee, as he let on. You had other guy friends and none of them talked to you the way Jensen did. The two of you would dance around the line in your relationship, but you were never quite sure where the line was. You supposed the line may be in a different spot for each of you. No matter where the lines laid for either of you, you knew you would not cross it, and if that meant telling Jensen ‘no’, then you would tell him so. He was involved with someone and you were not willing to put either of you in a situation that could get you embarrassed or hurt.

“We should probably head back now. It’s going to be dark soon and the park closes at ten,” you said, stopping.

Jensen reached to take your hand, but you wouldn’t let him take it.

“Jay, people might not know who you are here, but I don’t want to take any chances. There will always be people looking for smoke where there’s no fire.” And I need to protect my heart.

You wondered how it was that you felt like you had a more intimate relationship with Jensen than you had with Grant, and Grant had spent a lot more time with you. You’d only ever kissed Jensen that one time and it was over 9 years ago. ‘Cause he’s my sweet boy, one side of you answered. You’ve got to stop that, he’s with Dee, argued the other side. And the internal argument with yourself continued on like that until you got back to the car, where he went to your side and opened the door for you.

“I’m sorry, I made you uncomfortable,” he stood in your door while you got situated in your seat.

“I just broke up with fuckface…” you began.

“...rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Kinda. Shut up. You’re with Dee and you’re serious, right? So if you’re serious, and exclusive with her, then you shouldn’t be trying to flirt with me.”

“Well…what about you? You can’t be doing that to me, either.” “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Yet, during the whole walk, you could feel him checking you out and you didn’t hate it. You’d been doing the same thing to him all night. His unmistakable gait was hard not to notice. Nor were his cute little buttocks in his gray shorts, or how his t-shirt was just a tiny bit too small. Gently, he gently closed your door then went to his side and got in.

“Alright, if either of us is with someone, the other is off limits. Agreed?” he asked.

You nodded, “Agreed.”

“Why does it feel like we’re breaking up?” you asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m still going to write to you, okay? We can still be friends, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out like he’d been holding his breath.

Thankfully, your apartment wasn’t very far away and you were both back inside just a few minutes later.

“Do you think you can still stay ‘til Sunday?” you asked.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he answered. “Want to watch a movie? I’m still on Vancouver time.”

“I actually need to go do some work, but if you need anything I’ll keep my door open,” you stood by the hallway gauging his reaction. “I need to get stuff done before the storm.”

“Smell it on the air?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I did, too. Okay.” he said and you thought maybe he was trying not to look at you and play it cool. You weren’t about to contradict him.

He watched her walk down the hall and disappear around the corner to her writing desk. Something dramatic had to happen as soon as he walked in the door earlier that day. That guy she’d called a boyfriend was something else. He didn’t like anything about him. Short. Dark hair and eyes. Beer belly. Didn’t seem too bright. Took advantage of Y|N.

He hit ‘play’ on a random movie from her collection. Her vinyl selection was top-notch and had been slightly impressed she even had any. She hadn’t mentioned it in her letters at all and they told each other almost everything. Kind of amazing that she had any secrets left.

Then again, she wrote a whole book and he’d had no clue. It had been pretty popular and there had been talk about making it into a movie. How had he never asked her if she ever thought about publishing? He knew she was always writing in her spare time. Had he asked her? She dabbled in fan-fiction, he knew, but no clue about the novel. Then he remembered that she said not to read any with the romance covers. Did that mean she was published in other genres and different pen-names? He wondered if she would, or had, used any of their adventures together in her books. Did she know how bad he wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and make it be their time? He almost had when they were dancing. She looked hot as hell in her green shorts and fitted, black, Rolling Stones shirt. She wasn’t dressed up, or did anything special, she just looked good like she always did. He wished he had kissed her… but Dee… what about Dee? While he was with Y|N he would have a good time. When he went back to Texas, he would see how things went with Dee. She deserved at least that from him.

He ended up not even really watching the movie and was still sitting there after the credits had run. It was the flash of lightning from outside that had snapped him out of the trance he’d been in. He cleaned up after himself, checked that the apartment door was locked and turned off the lights.

Not looking into Y|N’s room, he went into his room to change his clothes and grab his toiletry bag for the bathroom. Once his clothes were changed, teeth were brushed, and skincare routine were completed, he flung the toiletry bag at his open suitcase and flopped onto his bed.

“Holy shit, this is nice,” he whispered. He’d slept in a lot of hotel beds, but this was better by far. It hit his goldilocks zone perfectly. His mind was racing too fast to sleep though.

He got back out of bed and paced around her house. Eventually, he started to feel tired and stopped at her still open door, her light long-since turned out. He could see her lying in bed and fought the urge to go in and lie down with her. …it would be so easy. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of hurting Dee like that. With one last look, he went back to bed and watched the rain fall on the skylight as he drifted off to sleep.

Morning came with a quickness and the sun streamed in through the skylight. He laid there with his arm over his eyes, not quite ready to get up yet. If it weren’t for the smell of bacon and eggs wafting in, he might have laid there all day. Not wanting to miss out on a home-cooked meal, he drug himself out of bed and to the kitchen.

Y|N was standing on her counter with cupboard doors open. She looked cute with her bedhead. It didn’t hurt that he had a good view of her legs at all. Briefly he wondered what it would be like to have her legs wrapped around …

“Oh good, you’re up. I can’t find where I put the coffee maker,” she said.

“No big deal,” he said looking at her still standing on the counter hunched over. He looked away when he realized he was staring, “Isn’t there a bakery close by?”

“Yeah, but I can’t go there looking like this,” she said. “I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re not, you’re fine,” he assured her. She really had no idea how attractive she was. Fuck anyone who didn’t also think so. “I don’t need coffee that bad.”

She hopped down from the counter, “Okay, sorry. I’m sure I’ll find it as soon as you go back to work.”

“Oh no, we’re finding it before then, just not now,” he was eyeing the bacon and eggs. “I didn’t know you can cook.”

“I guess I’m full of surprises this weekend,” she said. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“You’d think after this long and about a million letters and phone calls that there wouldn’t be much left to learn.”

“Oh honey, you’ve barely scratched the surface,” she grinned and left the kitchen. He stuck his head around the corner in time to catch sight of her butt in the small shorts she was wearing. He then dished up his breakfast and wondered what else was below the surface that he didn’t know.

When you both finished breakfast and got cleaned up, Jensen finally found the coffee maker and felt a little more human. Then they walked a few blocks over to the butcher shop where Jensen purchased some New York strips that he liked the look of.

“Is it always like this?” he asked.

“Like what? You’re the meat eater, you tell me,” you said using the key to open the building door.

“Not the meat, the weirdly pleasant part,” he answered.

You hadn’t noticed anything unusual in your interactions that morning. “Yeah, I guess so? Aren’t people usually nice to you? I’d think they’d be fawning over you.”

He snorted, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, everyone knowing who you are. The sneaking pictures. Sometimes people are dicks just to get a rise out of you. It’s exhausting always being ‘on’ in public.”

You stopped at your apartment door to look back at him. Anytime you need to hang out, just let me know. Hell, you have a key, just show up. Or maybe you need a place to go that’s all your own… like build a place on that land you bought forever ago.”

You opened the door and Jensen followed you in flipping over the security latch when the door closed.

“What?” he saw you looking at him. He pointed at the latch, “That? Can’t be too careful.” He put his steaks in the refrigerator.

“I just appreciate you looking out for me,” you said.

“That’s what friends do,” he said, resting his hands on the island.

“Do friends challenge you to Mario Kart?” you asked.

“Yeah, but we might not be friends afterward,” he was already moving toward the TV.

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Mhm. Okay. We shall see.”

“Are you mad?” you smirked, walking down the stairs again with him.

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“‘Cause it seems like you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. I should know better. Were you practicing?”

You laughed, “No, I hardly play it.”

“You have home-console advantage.”

“Wow. Okay. Are you gonna tell me that neither you nor Jared have a Wii in one or both of your trailers?”

He ignored the question. “I want a rematch.”

“So I can beat you again?” you teased.

“That was a fluke.” “Jensen, you’re a sore loser,” you laughed. “C’mon,” you were walking with him to the Liquor Store and were just outside the door, “Let’s see if Gram is working.”

Inside the store there was a small checkout counter to the right with a swinging half door to the back part of the store. The entirety of the store included two very long rows of shelves that were fully stocked with all of the liquors you could ever want and lots of beer cases.

You had no idea what the building had been originally, but you thought maybe you’d heard it had been a law office and that, honestly, felt right. The floors were carpeted. The walls were lined with wood paneling. It had a drop ceiling that trapped the smell of every cigarette smoked inside its walls. Back behind the counter was the “office” which was just a desk with a video feed from the bar next door.

You started looking for your beverage of choice, while Jensen found his. When you were both happy with your choices, you took them to the register, but whoever was working, you assumed it was your grandmother, hadn’t appeared yet. You hit the bell on the counter and called out, “Loretta!”

“I’m coming!’ you heard her call from somewhere in the bowels of the building. When your grandma saw you at the counter, she said, “Oh, Y|N it’s you. Who is this with you?”

Her eyes were almost sparkling as she looked at Jensen. You gave him a quick knowing glance.

“Grandma, this is my very good friend, Jay Wayne. Jay, this is my gram, Loretta,” you introduced them.

“Very nice to meet you, Jay,” she practically cooed. “Did you two find what you wanted?”

“Yeah, these two things please,” you said. “Are you cooking today, too?”

“Yes, I am. Are you two kids going to have lunch here?” You nodded. “Come through here then. Don’t go back out in the heat. I’ll just add the drinks to your food bill. Do you know what you want so I can get fixing it?”

Your grandma pushed open the half-door that kept the customers out of the back open and led you and Jensen through the building to the door that opened into the bar that was attached to the Liquor Store.

“I think Jay needs to look at a menu, but…” you began.

“What do you recommend, Loretta?” he charmed her.

“Well, I make the chicken, coleslaw and potato salad here, so any of those I can guarantee they’ll be good,” your grandma answered.

“I’ll take some of all, if you don’t mind,” he grinned at her.

“Me, too, just no coleslaw,” you said, unsure if you existed at the moment.

Once she had the order, your grandma got to getting things ready and left you and Jensen to find a seat inside the bar. It was like any other bar you’d ever been in. It had a very long bar, a small stage, plenty of tables and booths. There was neon everywhere and racing memorabilia on all of the walls. Even the floor was in large black and white checkered tiles. You and Jensen found a booth and sat on opposite sides of the table.

“That was disturbing,” you said, pulling out a menu, though you’d looked at it hundreds of times.

“What?” Jensen was also looking at the same simple menu.

“Never once has she let me go through the store.” Jensen barely looked up before going back to the menu.

“So?” he said.

“I am her grandchild and she has never given me special treatment, but as soon as I have a hottie with me, she’s all sweet.”

“Are you jealous of your grandmother?”

“God no. What? No. Just letting you know about my family.”

“She know about your career?” You shook your head. “Why not?”

“‘Cause I don’t want any of them knowing. I don’t want anything to change because they know my secret. If they treat me like this without knowing… It just keeps me humble and I can still see their true colors, ya know?”

“I get that.”

“The thing is, you could be a total, abusive asshole to me, but if she thinks you’re cute, I must have done something to deserve it.”

Jensen put down the menu. “Who did it? Was it fuckface? Say the word and I can finish what he started.”

“It wasn’t Grant,” you said.

“Jim? Braeden? Steve? Doug? Who am I missing here? Andy?” You touched your nose. “Andy?! …that son of a bitch!”

“Jay!” you put your hand over his. “Do you see him here? Have I mentioned him in all of these years?” He was still livid. “It’s taken care of.”

“Like taken care of taken care of?” his voice was still raised.

You gave him a ‘stop it’ look but said, “I don’t know details. I just know my dad and brother were pissed that he’d been harassing me… and stalking me… and the other stuff. I just know Dad and Jarrod went looking for him and Andy never bothered me again.”

Jensen just stared at you for a moment. He knew both your dad and brother which definitely made him wonder what happened to Andy, especially considering the rumors about her uncles.

“Are you fucking with me?” he asked.

You smiled, “Only a little. He’s still alive, but he hasn’t come within 100 yards of me since then. I can only speculate what they did to scare the shit out of him.”

“I’ve only met your brother a couple times, but your dad still scares the shit outta me, so I’m sure Jarrod is equally terrifying,” he mused.

“That’s fair,” you said. “I know of other situations where Jarrod handled things very simply, if not painfully.”

“Alright,” Jensen seemed satisfied that the situation was handled with Andy.

“Are you still that scared of my dad?” you asked.

“What? No! …a little,” he admitted. “I just feel like he can read my mind.”

“Why would that be scary, Jensen? Tell me.” you rested your chin on your folded hands.

“Hi guys, sorry it took so long. ‘Retta just put your orders up a few minutes ago.” the server saved Jensen. “Hey Y|N, how are ya?”

“Hi Chels, we’re not in a big hurry. No worries. This is Jay.”

“Nice to meet you,” she placed napkins and cups of ice water on your table. To Jensen, “You look familiar, have we met?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, taking a drink of the water.

“Don’t be modest, Jay.” Jensen shot you a viscious look. “He does stand-in and stunt work for TV and movies.”

“That must be it,” she said, frazzled. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

She was gone before you could say anything else to her.

“She’s cute,” he said.

You nodded, “Went to school with her. She’s cool as shit.”

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Not much. We can go to the park for the vendors and car show.” you said the next part quietly, “Have dinner with my parents.” Then you went back to normal volume, “Maybe go to the races, or get that rematch of Mario Kart out of the way.”

When you were both finished with your food, Chelsea brought the bill and your bottles from the Liquor Store. Making eye contact with Chelsea, you tipped your head toward Jensen and without missing a beat, she laid the bill on Jensen’s side of the table and gave you a discreet wink as she departed.

Jensen happily paid for both of you and mentioned that your grandma made good potato salad and that he’d also enjoyed the juicy fried chicken. He left Chelsea a good tip, grabbed your liquor purchases and walked you back home.

You never got bored with Jensen. Maybe it was because you packed too much into your visits, but even when you weren’t on a tight timeline, you still just always enjoyed his company. If you ever did get bored, and you didn’t think you did, it was just better, easier, less drab. It was nice having him around. It might have been because you’d known him so long, but you knew it was only part of it because you genuinely loved him.

“Mario Kart has to wait,” you said, reveling in the A/C.

Jensen snorted, “You just don’t want to get beat. I’ll find my groove.”

“I wasn’t scared before and I’m not scared now, Ackles,” you said, confidently. “I will destroy you some other time. We can’t play tonight because my parents are coming over for dinner tonight.”

It still tickled you, to no end, to see the flash of terror in Jensen’s eyes, though fleeting, at the mention of your father.

“What a treat,” he blurted out.

“Man, you are good,” you marveled. “I almost didn’t see you flinch that time.” Jensen pretended like he didn’t know what you meant. “He’s not that scary.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re his baby girl.”

“I guarantee, if you get his steak just right, you’re in.”

Before the big event, you and Jensen went to the park to do some vendor shopping and went to the car show that was being put on. You’d gotten to see some really cool antiques, muscle cars (no Impala), and some modern muscle. It was quite a popular event and not a single person recognized Jensen, that you were aware of. You’d spent much of the afternoon walking around the fair festivities and were back at your apartment just in time to start getting food ready for dinner, because your parents would be over in an hour to eat.

An hour later, at six on the dot, your parents arrived and you breathed a sigh of relief when your dad offered his hand to Jensen in greeting. Everything was cordial as usual. Jensen was just about to go to the roof to start grilling, but he’d waited for your parents to arrive before going up. Surprisingly, your dad followed Jensen out.

Your mom sat on one of the island bar stools while you worked on the rest of the meal. She looked around your apartment.

She leaned forward and quietly asked, “Is Grant here?”

“No ma’am,” you answered, checking on the pasta.

She took a sip of her tea. “Oh, how come?”

You turned to look at her knowing full-well she already knew. “I told him to get the hell out and never darken my door again.”

“Oh, thank God. You know I never liked him.”

“I didn’t, actually, but it doesn’t matter.”

“When did this happen?” she was almost gleeful.

“Thursday. He was being a dick to Jay. They got into it right here,” you told her.

“So that’s why Jensen has that on his cheek?”

You nodded.

“And how was Grant?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “Jay landed more than a few.”

“Good,” your mom said and you started the alfredo sauce. “When are you and Jensen going to get together?”

“Mother!”

“What? He adores you, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

It hurt being called out like that and it made your stomach tie up in knots. “I just broke up with Grant. Like him or not, we were together for four years. I’m gonna need a minute to put that away. Not to mention Jay has a girlfriend and they’re ‘pretty serious’, I guess, plus she’s in the business too and got close on a movie and I have my work and it’s just not something either of us wants right now. Can we talk about something else please?”

“Speaking of work… are you working on another book? Are you going to be traveling to Pennsylvania again? How was the the last shut down? I’m still not sure I like you doing that stuff, but at least you get to travel.”

“It’s not glamorous. I don’t get out much. Mostly I’m just working. The only thing that really changes is the location,” you stirred the alfredo. “I have ideas for a couple books. I’m actually almost done with the first draft for one still in research and plotting phase for the other.”

“Have a muse in mind?” your mother was being awfully cheeky.

You put the spoon down and looked her dead in the eye, “George Clooney.”

Jensen was trying to be cool. Sir had followed him up to the roof and was sitting in the chairs he’d built for (Y/N). He sat there with his legs crossed, smoking in the shade while Jensen fired up the grill. As if the summer sun weren’t already hot enough, he felt himself beginning to sweat under the scrutiny Sir was laying on him. There was no avoiding it, he went to sit while the grill came to temperature.

Sir didn’t say anything but he extended a very weathered, but still massive, hand over, holding out his cigarettes to him.

“No, thank you, sir. Gave it up a few years back.”

“Jensen, you can call me…” tucking the pack into his breast pocket.

“No, sir, I can’t. I have the utmost respect for you and your family. Not to mention my mother would have my hide.”

“How are your folks?”

They chatted in small talk for a while letting the grill get nice and hot. When an adequate amount of time passed, Jensen got up to check the thermometer.

“Do you know how to grill a good steak?” (Y/N)’s dad asked, looking over Jensen’s shoulder.

“I like to think I do. How do you take yours, medium rare?”

(Y/N) had tipped him. Her dad nodded. “My specialty.” He used another tip she’d given him, “How are your Vikings lining up for next season?”

“Oh, well…” he began and the two b.s.’d until the steaks and chicken were both ready. Chicken went on first for the ladies.

“I still can’t get (Y/N) to try my steak. Says she doesn’t ‘do red meat’ but eats hamburgers and chicken for days though,” he shook his head.

“Her mother is the same way,” her dad chuckled.

Your parents stayed longer that night than they had in years. Dinner had gone well. Lots of talking going on and you felt a good time was had by all.

“You must have done a good job with the steak,” you said to Jensen, handing him one of the pots to rinse and dry.

“Gotta say, I feel like king shit right now.”

“I’m glad he didn’t throw you off the roof.”

“No shit. I legit had the same thought while I was up there with him.” He paused for a moment to dry another dish. “How bad did they hate fuckface?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know they did until tonight. My mom actually was giddy with relief.”

“I think you dodged a bullet.”

“Mmm. Probably.”

“You gonna work tonight?” he asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve gotta try to get as much out of my head as I can. It helps to keep me from spiraling.”

He turned his head to look at you. “Are you spiraling?”

“No, but I might.”

“Okay if I hang out in your room? Can you still work?”

You nodded. “It’s amazing what I can ignore. Your company is always welcome.”

Jensen was down for that. He cleaned up the kitchen with you. Then when that was done, you got all of your things together for your writing desk. Jensen looked at your writing supplies.

“You need a gallon of water…” he said.

“It’s thirty-two ounces.”

“900 pens.”

“I have a current favorite.”

“And just as many notebooks.”

“Yes. I may not use all of them but I need them close. It’s a process. Some have notes, references, character descriptions…”

“When do you use the computer?”

“When I’m ready to do my first edit. It helps for continuity, adding bits, deleting others. Fixing grammar, stuff like that.”

“Seems like a lot of work.”

“It is, but it’s what works for me. Writing on paper is cathartic and I get a good flow going this way.”

“So what are you doing tonight?”

“I am going to be writing down new ideas, words for one, transcribing and editing for the other.”

“You have more than one book going?”

“Yep.”

“And you can keep track of them all?”

“That’s what all of the notebooks are for, color coding and corkboard.”

“Right… I’m gonna snoop around, cool? Okay, great.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, he just immediately went to your closet and opened the door and started looking around.

“I’m gonna get rid of all of fuckface’s shit.”

“Go for it,” you sat down at your desk to get started. “If you make a mess, you will clean it up.”

He raised a hand to acknowledge he heard you and got right to going through everything. Grant’s clothes were landing in a heap outside the closet door.

“Not much in here,” he was still rifling through the clothes bar and your dresser.

“Hey, stay out of the top drawer.”

“Too late. Not even any lacy bits.”

“Okay. Keep comments like that to yourself, thank you.”

“If you got it, flaunt it.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Yes, you do,” he reached for a box up on the shelf.

You sat in stunned silence for a moment then completely dropped it as him just being nice. He dug through the box and, not finding anything, put it back on the shelf.

“I’m gonna get a garbage bag for this shit,” he said and went to the kitchen like he hadn’t just said what he said.

You thought maybe you should help go through things but you didn’t even want to look at any reminders. When he came back, with garbage bag in tow, he grabbed the clothes, and shoved them, unceremoniously inside.

Jensen saw you watching. “He’s lucky I don’t pour bleach in here.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you raised your hands in surrender. “And I see nothing.”

He tapped his temple then pointed at you. “Understood.”

Over the next hour, while you worked, Jensen went through every place Grant would have put anything and collected the found items. Along the way, things “accidentally” crashed to the floor, but the pieces all made it into the bag for Grant’s later collection. Occasionally, you would hear “oops” after something fell.

“Hey,” he stuck his head around the corner. “I need you.”

You followed him out to the living room. “Which of these games are yours?”

You looked at the Xbox games and sorted through them. There were a few movies you added to the bag, also. It felt good to purge them. Eventually you got back to work and Jensen went back to snooping and found your photo album. He took it to your bed, got comfy and began looking through the pages.

Some of the pictures were ones he’d never seen before. They were a chronicle of her life from when she was a baby, all the way up to the last time he saw her, last year, at the upfronts in New York. Cute baby too, he thought. He liked looking through the photos. It made him feel closer to her somehow. He flipped slowly through the pages and saw people he didn’t recognize in the older pictures. He wanted to ask her about them but she was typing away on her computer, and didn’t want to ruin her flow.

When he got to the middle of the thick album, that was when he got to the years when they first got to know one another. There were pictures from that first meeting in Texas, the one where she walked right into him and stole his heart. As much as he enjoyed that first meeting, it was the ones where they stayed at a cabin for summer vacations. He’d always told himself that they were just friends. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t describe.

When your eyes started to give up on you, and the beginnings of a headache, you decided to call it a night. For half a second, you’d forgotten about Jensen. He’d been so quiet and now you understood why. Jensen was lying on your bed with your old photo album next to him. Crawling onto your bed, you grabbed the album and slid it to the edge of the bed with you. It was still open to the page that had pictures of the two of you at the cabin.

“My sweet boy,” you thought.

You closed the album and set it aside. Turning back to Jensen you briefly debated whether or not to wake him, or to go sleep in the spare room. Looking at the clock, you decided that it wasn’t worth trying to sleep in his room. After all, it was a king bed and you were both adults. If either of you couldn’t behave, there were bigger issues to deal with.

You turned off the lights and changed out of your clothes and into your night shirt in the dark. Jensen laid on his back and appeared to be sleeping soundly above the covers. Despite it being hot as hell outside, even at night, it was almost chilly in your apartment with the A/C running. You thought to look for a blanket for him and used the moonlight to navigate your room and grabbed a blanket you had made, hoping it would be long enough.

You carried the blanket to where he laid and unfolded it before laying it over him. After covering his feet, you moved your way up his body making sure he was covered. He surprised you when he stirred and said, “You’re beautiful” and rolled onto his side. Stunned, it took you a moment to realize he must have been dreaming of Dee and went to your side of the bed to go to sleep.

He laid there knowing he shouldn’t look, but it wasn’t every day that a woman got undressed in front of him; let alone one he cared about so deeply. His eyes were only open a slit and there were no lights on, but the bright moonlight did him a favor and let him see just enough to be dangerous. He did everything he could to remain calm until the nightshirt slipped over her nearly naked body. She went to the closet and he breathed a sigh of relief until she bent over and could see the perfect shape of her backside. (Y/N) came back with a blanket and tucked him in. When she got close to his chest, he pretended to still be sleeping and rolled onto his side telling her she’s beautiful.

He was so torn about what to do. He cared for Dee, he really did. They got along great, he liked her a lot. She was a really great friend and they had a lot of fun together. He knew he would be happy with her… he even bought a ring. Nova, though… she was his absolute solace. He was never less than his best self when he was with her.

She needed time to get back to her normal self after being with Grant. She wasn’t happy. He could tell in her letters that Grant was not right for her. He was dragging her down, dampening her spirit. She deserved someone who would lift her up; someone who could be devoted to her. As much as he may have wanted that to be himself, he also knew that he couldn’t just drop everything, not even for (Y/N).

When morning came, Jensen was still lying in bed with you, sleeping peacefully. His long lashes lying softly on his cheeks. Normally, you stayed on your side of the bed, even when Grant was with you. When you woke up, you were lying more towards the middle and Jensen was mere inches away. It would be nothing to reach out and touch him. Instead you rolled away to the side of the bed and opted for a cold shower.

Turning on the water, you went through the motions to get your body clean and think about what your next steps should be. Only, you realized, you’d been going through the motions for the last few years. The only thing you’d care about was writing your stories and the escape they gave you, which brought you to wonder why you needed the escape. Then you thought about all of the smutty romance you wrote about and wondered if you were just protecting your wants and desires into your books. Jensen gave you crap about the inspiration for those books, and you thought you were telling the truth about it being Gerard Butler, but you weren’t even sure of that either. When it came down to it, all you were actually sure of was that you liked writing. Not just the scenes themselves, but the whole process. Grant never really understood your need to create. He hadn’t even asked you about it. All he ever talked about was himself. As long as he was happy, that was all he cared about…

“Hey, you curing cancer in there?”

Jensen called through the door, grabbing your attention. Had you even washed your hair?

“Just searching for world peace.”

“Well hurry up and find it, I got breakfast waiting.”

Thankfully, with it being Saturday, it meant your day would be very busy and you wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with difficult emotions. The first activity of the day was the parade. Jensen was okay with going down to street level and be amongst the people. Your apartment overlooked Main Street and was a great vantage point. Instead, the two of you went down and met up with friends of yours.

“Who’s your friend?” Kim asked.

You looked at Jensen in his ball cap and sunglasses. He stood to your right and slightly behind you. He looked back at you and shrugged, game to see what would happen.

“This is famous TV actor, Jensen Ackles,” you told her, then turned to Jensen. “Jay, this is Kim. We went to high school together.”

“Hey, how’s it going? Jay Wayne.”

“Hi, nice to meet you, Jay.” Kim gave you a look that said to quit playing around. “What do you do for work and how did you meet (Y/N)?”

“I’m actually a stunt-double on TV and stand in. Met (Y/N) at summer camp years ago.”

“Oh, how cool.”

She was about to start asking more questions, but you cut her off. “Oh, I think my parents finally arrived. Talk to you later, Kim. C’mon, Jay.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him away and walked towards the corner and across the street to the pharmacy.

“You weren’t kidding. Right from the start, she didn’t buy it.”

“Dude, I know. And it’s not like I’m a chronic liar.”

“I know, you’re actually really bad at it.”

“Thank you?” you said with a chuckle.

“It’s a good thing. I always know where I stand with you. And, it makes it really easy to tell when you do lie.”

You and Jensen walked all over downtown and the park to check out all of the special vendors and deals that only came around once a year. After grabbing lunch from the VFW, you were ready for a break and went back to your apartment and laid down for a couple hours. You didn’t know what Jensen was doing but he wasn’t in the room with you, which you felt was for the best.

The alarm you’d set woke you up and you got up to brush out your hair in your bathroom. Jensen had found the acoustic you’d bought for Fuckface Grant and was strumming a familiar song. Reaching for the door knob of your bedroom, you paused recognizing the song as he began to sing.

“Saying ‘I love you’ is not the words I want to hear from you. It’s not that I want you, not to say but if you only knew… how easy, it would be to show me how you feel. More than words is all you have to do to make it real, then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me ‘cause I’d already know.”

Of all the songs he could have played… The lyrics hit you hard and your hand dropped away from the handle as you listened to each word he sang. Did he even know what he was doing to you? How could he? He was playing and singing softly. You put your back against the door, not wanting to let him see you fall to pieces as you slid to the floor. You clasped your hands over your mouth and tried not to cry out as the tears fell out of your eyes.

He moved on to other songs that also tore at your heart but they hadn’t stung nearly as bad. Whatever it was that had pulled the plug on your emotional dam, whether it was the lyrics, or Jensen’s voice, you weren’t quite sure, but it had released the flood and it took you a while to let it all out and compose yourself. Dragging yourself off the floor, you went back to your bathroom to splash cold water on your face in hopes of maybe calming down enough to go out in the living room where he was still softly playing songs. Of course, there was no hope of him not noticing.

“What happened?” he asked, putting the guitar down and getting up as soon as he saw you were not okay.

“I’m okay. I just needed a good cry, I guess.”

“C’mon, bring it in,” he said stepping toward you with arms out stretched.

You took a step back and held a hand up for him to stop. “No, I really don’t want to be touched right now.”

He looked at you in a way that made your heart hurt more.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just… I don’t know, just be gentle on me, okay? I’m feeling a little raw and just… raw.”

“Fair enough.”

“Just give me a few minutes then we can go down to the fair.”

“He doesn’t deserve you shedding a single tear over him, Nova.” He thought you were crying over Grant.

“I know, it’s just hard to let go.”

An hour later, you were sitting in the grandstands at their fairgrounds watching figure 8 races which led into the demolition derby. A few of your older cousins showed up and sat with you and Jensen. You introduced him as Jay, and as usual with your family, they grilled him and wanted to know everything about him. There was something in your dad’s family’s DNA that was determined to embarrass you at every turn. To his credit, Jensen took it like a champ and answered their questions without divulging too much of the truth.

After the races were done, you and Jensen left the grandstands and got some gumbo from one of the local vendors. You found a picnic table to sit at while you ate.

“Is your family always like that?” he asked.

You nodded, “Pretty much.”

“It makes a lot of sense now.”

“How so?”

“You don’t pull punches and almost always say what you’re thinking.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“No. No ‘supposing’. You know I’m right,” he turned his hat backward to eat.

“And look what it got me,” you felt miserable. “You have a bruised cheek because I chose to be with someone who never chose to be with me.” You pointed two tables over to your right.

Jensen’s head turned to look for what had caught your attention. You couldn’t bring yourself to look that direction again and took a bite of the cornbread that you had been soaking in the gumbo. When Jensen started to rise, you put your hand on his to stop him. Slowly, he sat back down again. You could almost see the red rising in his skin.

“I love that you want to go over there, but don’t,” you said.

When Jensen turned back to you, the rage he felt showed in his eyes and you could see the white all the way around his now, very dark, green eyes.

“Jay…” you waited for the rage to settle, not letting go of his balled up fist. Eventually the tension released and you let go.

“He’s not worth getting mad over,” you said, calmly, surprising even yourself.

Jensen took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking again. “He’s disgusting,” he said of fuck face, “she can’t be more than 20.”

“Jay, he’s not my problem. Don’t even engage, he’ll just drag you down,” you stirred your gumbo, disappointed in the soupiness of it. Instead, you decided it was a good thing since you felt a little sick at the sight of fuckface with someone new already. Not to mention, they were behaving like teenagers with their overt PDA.

You rested your head on your right hand to block them out of your peripheral vision and dabbed the cornbread into the gumbo hoping the cornbread might help calm your stomach.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just not very hungry all of a sudden.”

“Wanna do something else?”

“Skeeball?”

He smirked, “Cuz you beat me at that game.”

You grinned, “You forgot to say ‘all the time’. I beat you at skeeball all the time.”

“I’m still not convinced you don’t cheat,” he grumbled.

“Is there something that would convince you, or is it only the ass-whooping I deal out the only thing?”

“Not even so much as a pity win for me,” he took a few bites.

You sipped your soda. “That would not be good sportsmanship.”

“Alright, I’m done,” he collected both of your dishes and disposed of them. “Let’s go find a game where I can whoop your ass.”

“Mhm. Okay. Let’s see,” you said. “Glutton for punishment.”

Jensen spent a lot of money on tickets for what turned out to be very little return… for him. Eventually, he found a shooting game he wanted to try and you backed out of to let him have his moment to shine. Not surprisingly, when you weren’t up against him he did really well and cleared all of the targets.

“So are you just always letting me win?” you asked as he gleefully handed over more money to keep playing.

“Hell no. I just do better with an audience,” he said, picking up the small air rifle. I just want to impress you, he thought.

When Jensen had shot enough targets, it was time to pick out a prize.

“Lady’s choice,” he deferred to you.

“I’ll take the tiger stuffie,” you said.

The carnival worker handed you the toy. “Got a few more credits left. Want anything from here?”

You looked where he indicated and selected a ring-pop in your favorite flavor. “I love these things. Thank you!”

The carnie wished you a good night and immediately began calling for more players.

“How’s your stomach?” he asked, looking at the Scrambler.

“Good enough,” you told him, but your anxiety kicked in when you got in the small line.

It was getting late and had gotten dark. Most of the people with little kids had left, but the fair was still bustling with people.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You have a look on your face.”

“I don’t want to crush you.”

It was his turn to give you a look. He had no idea what you meant.

“How would you do that?”

The emotional turmoil was threatening to bubble up again but it came in the form of tears and you could barely whisper, “Because I’m so big.”

He grasped your shoulders and leaned down to look you in the eyes. “I don’t know what, or who, made you feel that way, but you are not, you hear me? You are absolutely perfect just the way you are, no matter what. I swear, if that douche canoe made you feel like you aren’t the most beautiful person he’s ever been lucky enough to be with, say the word and I’ll go kill him now.”

He hadn’t, but you weren’t about to tell Jensen that. There were times, like this time, that Jensen was a lot like his character, Dean, and you knew, without a doubt, that he would follow through with his threat if you gave the okay. Truthfully, your body image issues had been with you even before you met Jensen.

“No, it’s not his fault. This is all me,” you whispered.

“Do you want to go?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Let’s ride, I don’t want to ruin the last night you’re here.”

“Not possible,” he said, matter of fact. “Any day with you is a good day, and don’t you forget it.” And if I die because of your body on top of mine, then I would die a happy man. An image of her nearly naked silhouette flashed into his mind and his imagination placed her in several very pleasing positions. He could see everything perfectly as…

“Jay, you coming?”

He looked up suddenly and snapped back to reality. He followed her to their car. They ended up riding the Scrambler and Tilt-a-Whirl several times and Jensen had loved every second of it. You were getting tired again. You’d stopped the rides for a while to watch the live band.

“We have to ride the Ferris Wheel before we go,” you insisted.

“Yeah, we do. Been eyeing it all night.” Which was true, but only because he wasn’t sure if it was too high or not. He was okay with being up high, but if he looked down, that was another story.

For you, the Ferris Wheel was the best part of the rides at the fair. It was a little scary, but that was what made it great, too. When it was your turn, you eagerly took your spot on the seat. Jensen wedged himself into the corner of the seat.

“Do I smell bad?” you teased. He didn’t look scared, but he wasn’t excited like you were either. The lap bar locked into place and you slid over next to Jensen and snaked your arm through his. “Just wait til you see the view.”

Eventually, the wheel paused with the car at the top and she elbowed his side to get his attention.

“Look,” she whispered.

He was looking, but not at the view.

“The lights on the water and look at the houses,” she said, looking at her hometown with wonder.

“Yeah,” he noticed the curve of her ear and the way she tucked her hair behind it, her hair sweeping against her neck. He thought he could just use his finger to brush it aside and kiss her neck… “The view is pretty amazing,” he eventually said, turning his admiring gaze away from her.

The Ferris Wheel started and they took several rotations before it began to slow down to let off riders. The fair had an unofficial shut down time and you and Jensen were lucky enough to be on the last ride. You made sure you had your tiger stuffie and you walked with Jensen back to his car and went home.

“Nova?” he said stepping inside your apartment with you.

“Hmmm?”

“Promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t live your whole life here. I know you travel, and that’s great but you deserve more than what this town offers.”

“I thought you like it here?”

“I do, I just… want more for you.”

“Maybe this is all I need. Maybe what I need is to be exactly where I am. This is who I am. I don’t need a spotlight shone on me.”

“Well, I thought you wanted more.”

“If I am meant to have something, it will come to me. I just told my boyfriend of four years to fuck off and he already has a new piece. Maybe you’re right. Maybe what I need is to get as far a-fucking-way from here as possible.”

“Now you’re talking. Austin? Vancouver? L.A.?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Where then?”

“Australia.”

“Whoa, hold on now. You’re going to the extreme, aren’t you? Two seconds ago, you were fine with living here forever and now you’re leaving the hemisphere?”

“I’ve always wanted to go and I have the means. My life here is a fucking joke. I have no love-life, no life, and no prospects. Something has to change and this is the perfect solution! And, it will be great material for a book. How can I write effectively if I don’t have experiences?!” A brief, devastating, revelation had hit you like a freight train and you needed to act on it before it slipped away. You realized you’d only been living for the time you spent with Jensen and not for yourself and it needed to change immediately or you would be stuck, forever, in the same rut.

That hadn’t gone at all how he thought it would. All he wanted was for (Y/N) to get out of her town and experience life somewhere else, like Vancouver…

“My friend, Christie, lives in Sydney. I should call her…” you were eager to get going.

“Can we talk about this a little more? It seems a little drastic.”

“No.” You shut him down. “I don’t want you trying to talk me out of it. I do need a change, Jensen, and not one that revolves around you. I have two lives. The one where I’m with you and the one where I’m not. The one where I’m not, fucking sucks, so I’m going to fix it. It’s still not our time, Jay, so I’m not going to sit around and wait for it.”

Jensen looked angry, but you were ready to go toe to toe with him if you had to.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said.

“I don’t want to fight with you!”

“Good.”

“Good!”

“Alright! Now what?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“We good?”

“Yeah? I kinda wanna punch you,” you said, “but, yeah.”

“Good, I don’t want to go back to work and have any bad blood between us.”

You thought you were good. You didn’t think either of you had done or said anything you couldn’t come back from.

“No. I think we’re good. Just don’t try to run my life, I already have a mother,” you gave him a pointed look.

“I’m sorry. I overstepped…. Do you want to stay up with me or are you going to bed?”

Your eyes went to the digital clock on the stove, 2:47. “What time do you need to go?”

“Airport opens at 5. I have, literally, the first flight out at 5:45. Figured I’d try to be there when it opens. Load up at 4? I still have to return the car.

“I’ll stay up,” you yawned.

He smirked. “Sure you will.”

“I will!”

“I believe that you want to,” he grinned, “execution tends to be lacking.”

“Not all of us can sleep at the drop of a hat.”

“It’s a gift,” he quipped. “You’d think you would be good at it, too.” He said moving towards the suede sectional in the living room. “Especially doing shift work.”

“Another great reason to get the hell out of dodge. I hate doing shift work. I should be a supervisor by now. I’m gonna have a lot of loose ends to tie up… Maybe I can get supervisor work overseas.”

“Definitely worth looking into.”

You sat on the couch facing each other, within arms reach. You rested your head on your hand that was on the back of the couch while you talked with Jensen.

(Y/N) was fading fast. Each blink of her eyes was a little slower than the last. He started humming a song and her head settled down onto her arm, fully asleep. He checked the clock and had just enough time to take a quick shower and get his things together before he needed to head out to the airport.

When he was showered and packed, he went back to the living room. (Y/N) was still sleeping, so he carefully picked her up and carried her to her bed.

“Oh no, I fell asleep,” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “It’s alright. I know you tried.” He laid her down and made sure everything was in place so she would find it. He covered her with a blanket because even in the middle of summer, her apartment was as cold as a meat locker. He leaned down, pushed back the hair on her forehead to kiss it.

“Until next time, best pen pal ever,” he said softly.

“I love you, sweet boy,” she mumbled, still more asleep than awake.

When you woke a few hours later, a pang of deep sadness hit you because Jensen was gone again. However, the excitement of a new adventure helped you not dive head first into the depression pool. You rolled over in your bed and were going to pull the pillow he’d used, only there was a crystal star sitting on top of it, including a note he’d written.

Setting aside the Swarovski star, you opened the folded piece of paper addressed to you.

“(Y/N), I want nothing but the best for you and I hope you find it. If you get lost along the way, I will always be here to help you find your way.” – Jensen. P.S. You better write me from your new address as soon as you get settled.”

#jensen ackles x reader #reader x jensen #jensen ackles rpf #wildwood #jensen ackles x female reader #spn fanfiction

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