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

thebiggerbear · 5 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 · 1 year 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 · 6 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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em-ontv · 1 month ago

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Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester spn #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural family #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #jensen ackles

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deansbeer · 1 month ago

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୨ৎ ﹒ DEAN eatin' you out like a man who's starved. mhm. 🤰🏻

it's supposed to be a lazy day. nothing to do, nowhere to go, just the two of you tangled in bed. but DEAN has never been able to keep his hands to himself when it comes to you. and now, you're spread out underneath him, a complete mess, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs pinned wide as his mouth works you over like it's his favorite fucking meal.

"dean—fuck, i can't," you whimper, your hands gripping at the sheets as his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and deliberate. he's been at it for what feels like forever, switching between sucking, licking, and teasing until you're trembling, your body so sensitive you can't think straight.

he pulls back just enough to look up at you, and the cocky grin on his face makes your stomach flip. "can't?" he repeats, his voice low and playful. "nah, baby, you can. you're gonna."

you start to protest, but the words die in your throat when his fingers slide into you, curling just right, and his mouth is back on you, relentless. your hips buck against him, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his free hand presses down on your stomach to keep you in place.

"DEAN!" you cry out, your voice breaking, and that's when he does it—pulls his mouth away just enough to slap your pussy. not too hard, but enough to make you yelp, your whole body jolting at the sharp sting.

"shit," he groans, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches you squirm. "look at you, darlin'. so fuckin' pretty when you're like this. all worked up f'me."

"you're such an ass," you pant, glaring at him, but the heat in your voice is undercut by the way your hips roll, seeking more of his touch.

he smirks, his fingers sliding out of you only to deliver another quick slap to your slick folds, and you gasp, your back arching off the bed. "yeah?" he teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. "an ass who's got you drippin' all over the fuckin' sheets, baby."

"de, please," you whine, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. more of his mouth, his fingers, his cock—anything, everything.

"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing his way back up your body until he's hovering over you, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh. "tell me what ya want."

"you," you manage, your voice shaking. "just fuck me already."

his grin widens, and he leans down to kiss you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "thought you'd never ask," he mutters, lining himself up and sliding into you in one smooth thrust.

and just like that, your lazy day is anything but. <3

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zepskies · 6 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

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@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

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figthoughts · 2 months ago

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sleepy motel mornings with dean winchester (bf!dean x gf!reader)

*ೃ༄

you began to stir as you heard the soft rustling of the bedsheets behind you. a tired hum escaped your lips as you felt dean untangle his body from yours, a stark coldness replacing the warmth of his touch on your skin as he pulled away. your eyes fluttered open.

“hey, where’re you going so fast?” you pouted, your eyes still puffy from sleep as you rolled over, watching dean begin to hop out of the bed. you wrapped your hand around his arm and pulled him back down next to you.

dean laid his head back on the pillow with a slight grunt and turned to you, a warm smile spreading across his sleepy face, “gonna make you some coffee, baby.”

a smile grew on your lips at his deep gravelly morning voice and you blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness of the motel room. after a moment of looking at his sweet sleepy face, you shook your head and pulled him closer, “later.”

dean sighed and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent show of his love. he draped an arm over your side and you closed your eyes, soaking in his comforting and familiar scent; motel soap mixed with his cheap sandalwood and whiskey cologne. a strange combination, but one you've come to love and yearn for on nights when you're apart.

you smiled a little dopily under his touch as he pulled his face back to look at you. you found his eyes and flashed a playful, but pleading look at him, “stay with me. you’re warm.”

“oh, is that it?” he laughed softly, “you want me to stay just because i’m warm?”

you gently shook your head and looked at him with love and sincerity in your expression, “no, you’re warm and i love you.”

dean grinned, his green eyes lighting up at your words, “sap,” he teased and poked your side, “i love you too, baby.”

you couldn’t suppress the soft chuckle from escaping your lips. you sat up and lazily threw a leg over his waist, relaxing down on his lap. your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping them gently as you held his head to meet your tender gaze.

dean’s hands sat on your thighs, rubbing the soft skin under your pyjama shorts. his eyes fluttered shut and he hummed as you leaned down and began leaving small kisses all over his face.

dean couldn’t help but laugh while you peppered soft little kisses on him; along his forehead, down his nose, over his cheeks and quick cheeky pecks on his lips. you held his face in your hands as your lips worked over his soft skin, each kiss a little mark of your love for the sleepy green-eyed hunter in front of you.

you hummed absent-mindedly, smiling to yourself as you kissed over his freckled cheeks. dean let out a quiet huff and you pulled away to look at him. his cheeks turned blush pink as you met his gaze and you could tell he was trying to keep his smile from growing any bigger.

“what was that for?” he asked, his gentle green eyes searching yours, his fingers mindlessly tapping on your thighs.

“cause i love you, deanie. a thousand more and you’re free to make our coffees,” you grinned and began leaving more tiny kisses on him as he sighed defeatedly with a smile.

A/N: soft dean! soft dean! soft dean! my favourite dean tbh i don’t think i’ve posted any fluff on here so here’s a short little something lol enjoy! <3

requests and feedback are welcome! reblogs support me and my writing! ty!

#in a soft dean mood atm #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #soft dean winchester #dean winchester x gf!reader #dean x reader #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester drabble #dean

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anundyingfidelity · 9 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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thebiggerbear · 29 days ago

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i think i've seen this film before

Summary: When three certain little words escape him, you know them for what they are: a plea not to leave him alone with only his thoughts and whiskey for company. You've seen this song and dance before.

Warnngs: heavy angst, cheating/infidelity, light smut, dagger analogy (Idk if this is a thing but putting it here in case)

Word Count: 2202

Response to prompt from @me-writes-prompts

A/N: Yes, I'm still on writing hiatus but this came pouring out of me today from where I have no idea. Must be the holiday. I feel like this happened last year, too, with Something Real which was also a bucket of angst and heartbreak. So it definitely has to be the holiday then. All completely unbeta'd (and probably very messy quite truthfully, I'll have to come back and try to clean it up later tonight, there may be some switching around of tenses, sorry!). As an aside, I don't condone any form of cheating but this just came out as is and I was so relieved to be writing something, that I just kind of went with it. I was going to keep it as a blank character x reader but in the end, the muse overruled me and let a name slip of who it was imagined to be. She's a sneaky bitch who can't be trusted to keep anything resembling a secret, I swear.

You can also read on AO3

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“I love you.”

Those three little words, barely said in a whisper, make you freeze. After your heart starts beating again, after your brain has processed that yes, he really just said that, you continue slipping your shirt over your head.

Once you pull your hair free from your neckline, you turn to where you left him moments earlier, sprawled out on his back on the bed, an arm behind his head with the mist of sweat drying on his skin, his hair a crime scene of damp wayward strands with your fingers having been the perpetrator. You find him watching you intently with those eyes that you swear can see down to the deepest parts of you zeroed in on your face, a faint trace of hope lining the irises you’ve so often found yourself lost in these past few months. You momentarily clench your jaw as you steel yourself to say what you need to. “You shouldn’t say that to me.”

Where you expected to see heartbreak or some vestiges of pain, you only saw determination, suddenly renewed. You then realize your mistake. You hadn’t said the one word he expected to hear, the one he needed to hear: No. So it doesn’t surprise you when you see the hope in his gaze flare brighter, perhaps believing he’s not alone in this after all.

You watch as he moves aside the thin sheet covering the last traces of his modesty, fully revealing himself to you as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. The irony of the action is not lost on you; he’s making himself vulnerable before you, letting you see every inch of him, even what’s beyond skin deep.

He is suddenly before you, this large man whose hulking stature had completely dwarfed you minutes ago as he had pushed your thighs back and pistoned in and out of you, groans escaping him as droplets of his sweat christened your bare skin repeatedly. And yet, despite the size of him, here he is, exposing himself in such a way that you feel like the tall one, even as you crane your neck to meet his intent gaze head on.

The tips of his fingers gently urge your chin up a little higher so he can see all of you, both of you laid bare to one another as his eyes swallow you whole. “Yes, I should,” he murmurs. “I love you.” You know what’s about to happen, especially as his eyelids lower slightly and he begins to dip his head. The insatiable monster inside you craves his lips on yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a tango that mimics the one your bodies just did, craves him, but you force yourself to pull away.

Ignoring the hurt lining his expression, you turn to look for your shoes that had been kicked off as you both stumbled into the room, glued to one another and tearing at each other’s clothes in your desperate need to have your skin meeting his. Once you spot them, you take a step in that direction when his hand on your elbow stops you.

“Baby,” he pleads.

“Don’t,” you whisper, refusing to look at him like he’s begging you to.

When you attempt to move again, his hand releases you only for his arm to snake around your waist and prevent you from leaving. You’re not surprised when he pulls you closer and you can feel the scratchiness of his unshaven face against your neck as he burrows into you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear. He’s begging again, though this time you know it’s more for you not to leave more than his insistence on your belief in his feelings for you. He doesn’t want you to leave him here, alone with only his thoughts to keep him company along with some top shelf whiskey the hotel staff stocks exclusively for him in the mini bar.

It used to work, this heartfelt plea whispered against your skin, nuzzled against your cheek, pressed against your lips, until you gave in and let him lay you back down on the bed, giving yourself over to him completely for however long he wanted you. Now, though, you’ve grown stronger, smarter, and that’s why it’s easier than ever to push away from him and look him dead in the eye. “Then get a divorce.”

You see the expected pain magnify throughout his handsome face and you take the opportunity of his reaction to your response to finally move away and grab your shoes, slipping them on as quickly as possible.

He quietly clears his throat before the familiar deep voice that has murmured the dirtiest and sweetest things you’ve ever heard into your ear tears through the quiet paper-thin hush of the room that usually exists once your frenzied lovemaking ceases. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You know I can’t—”

“Not my problem,” snaps out of you. You don’t even bother to roll your eyes anymore at the age-old response he gives you every time you dose both of you with reality like this. Except it is your problem, very much your problem. Hell, it became your problem the moment you allowed him into your apartment that one snowy night, fully knowing you were about to change your life forever and not necessarily for the better. When you finally found out how easily your scratches could be seen on his skin, how divine his lips tasted especially after they had drunk deeply from yours and your body still ricocheted with aftershocks from your orgasm, and how taut his back muscles became with every slow and hard thrust into you. When you found out how intoxicating the sounds of his groans in your ear were as he took pleasure in what your body offered his, how dry your mouth was afterwards from all of the loud panting you did as his mouth ghosted over yours while he repeatedly hit that one spot deep within you, and how tightly he held onto you once he came, unwilling to let you go until he had absolutely had to.

You tamp down the desire you feel unfurling underneath your skin at the memories of that night and grab your jacket and handbag from where you’d tossed them. You refuse to think any further about that night, about how he had begged you to let him in, his chest heaving and snowflakes rapidly melting in his short hair, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them and glancing repeatedly at your lips. You absolutely don’t think about the way his mouth desperately claimed yours the moment you opened the door wider and he was on you, kicking the door shut behind him. Or about how only minutes later he had you backed up against the wall, your jeans and panties tossed away somewhere, and him on his knees with his head buried between your legs, making you grip his hair as you bit your lip so hard it bled. Or even about how you had clawed at the wall he had turned you to face as he pounded away at you, his hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you, grunting loudly into your ear with every thrust as the rough fabric of his coat sleeve rubbed against your neck. Or how the buckle of his open belt rattled with his movements, only to be rivaled by your own cries, both being surpassed by his loud drawn out roar of “Fuck!” as he buried himself to the hilt within you and burrowed his face into your neck. His hot and harsh breaths dampened your skin while you reached a hand up to run soothingly through his wet hair, struggling to regain the ability to breathe yourself. No, you weren't going to think about how he then moved you to your bedroom from where neither of you emerged until hours later in search of sustenance and electrolytes.

Instead of allowing yourself to get lost in the thoughts of that night, you take a small breath and start heading for the door.

“I love you, dammit.” He’s angry now, just as you knew he would be the closer you got to leaving, leaving him. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

You stop and you hear him take a step closer. You don’t have to turn to look at him to know there is a cautious renewal of hope lighting his eyes. You had stopped after all. But you both have done this dance before and each time it ends the same way.

“No, you don’t,” you answer him quietly, almost gently. Your aim is not to hurt him, never to hurt him. He’s been hurt enough and you will be damned if will be like her and add to his pain. But at the same time, you can’t lie nor will you continue to swallow any of his. So, like always, you spare him but not yourself. “You think you do, but you don’t. You don’t love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He’s closer now, his voice is cracking slightly…he’s a few moments away from coiling his arms around you like a snake and keeping you from walking out the door, again.

And so you make it quick, you plunge the dagger of truth into your own chest and let the pain bloom within you, spreading quickly through your veins like wildfire. “You don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t keep me in a holding pattern like this.” You then force yourself to turn and face him, your eyes hard as diamonds and your face one of stone. “I’m purely a convenient fuck for you when you get lonely, or someone to call when it all becomes too much. This isn’t even an affair. I’m nothing more than a painkiller that comes with an orgasm or two. That’s it and you know it. So, no, you don’t love me, because if you did, you would never use me like this.”

As expected, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. You can see the protests building in his throat but you cut him off.

“And if I loved you, I wouldn’t let you continue to use me like this.”

He stands there, staring at you, a small sadness growing in his deep gaze. This always happens. As much as you try to spare him and not bleed out your pain all over him, some tiny amount almost always splashes onto him. You can’t help that. One of you has to be the strong one and keep it real; it just happens to always be you.

So you don’t allow his crestfallen expression to get to you and you lift your chin slightly, rolling your shoulders back as you straighten your spine. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

You spin on your heel and stride towards the door. When your fingers grab onto the door handle, you hear a broken plea of “Don’t leave…please.” You clench your jaw and force yourself to open the door, refusing to look back.

“Goodbye, Jensen.”

You walk across the threshold and pull the door closed behind you. You make your way to the elevators, unsurprised that he doesn’t quickly dress and run after you. He never has before; why would that change now? When the elevator dings and thankfully the car is empty, you step into it and hit the “close door” button. You wait and as expected, no calls of “Wait!” or chimes of your phone sound as the doors take their sweet time closing despite their directive. Once they’re shut, once there is no possibility of him seeing you or hearing you, you sink against the wall of the car and grasp at your chest, your breath loudly catching as the full weight of the pain you had denied yourself begins to flow through you anew. Tears mark your cheeks and you let out a sound akin to a strangled sob.

Yes, you do love him and that is why you continue to let him use you in this way. That is why you opened the door that night and let him in, fully knowing what was going to happen. That is why you allowed him to take your friendship and mangle it into whatever dark and hopeless form it takes now. You fucking love him; of course you do. In the same breath, though, you know he doesn’t love you and this last bit of pain is what finishes you as the elevator continues to descend: and he never will. You turn your body to face the corner and hold a hand over your mouth, beginning to cry outright. He will never love you the way you love him. No matter how many times you run to him when he calls, no matter how you let him take pleasure in you or comfort in your arms, no matter how many times you’ve begged him to end things with her and be with you instead…he will never love you. You loudly sob as the sharp tip of that truth dagger from before lodges itself into your heart, almost neatly fitting into the groove from all of the previous times. Your heartbreak is the only sound that echoes throughout the small space along with the glaring silence of your phone. And just like that, once again, the dance comes to its predictable end.

A/N: So yeah, sorry about that. As always, no disrespect is ever meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I'm not suggesting or implying anything about either Jensen or Danneel, I just had him in my head while writing. Purely fictional.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jensen RPF: @ladykitana90; @lemonfreak97; @lacilou; @waynes-multiverse

Forever Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #rpf #thebiggerbear writes #i think i've seen this film before #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x female reader

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lostalioth · 3 months ago

Text

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

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thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Summary: Though you don't really want to, Butcher persuades you to fuck Soldier Boy in front of him since he believes that your relationship is becoming duller by the day.

Pairing: Soldier Boy, Billy Butcher / Reader

Warnings: Dark Fiction!, +18! (MINORS DNI), smut, dirty talk, threesome, rough Soldier Boy, Butcher is a manipulative boyfriend , hair pulling, breath playing, kinda forced, established relationship, forced oral sex, multiple orgasms, reader is manipulated, overstimulation, porn without plot, a plot twist in the end

Word Count: 2709

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is for @anundyingfidelity. I love you and your stories, bestie.

You let out a loud gasp as you locked your legs around Butcher's hips, squeezing him till he hit your most sensitive spots.

Sucking his lower lip, you used one hand to brush his thick beard and the other to nail his back in an attempt to stop yourself from moaning.

"Don't hold yourself back, love," he smirked at you. Let me listen to those lovely sounds. You are free to be as noisy as you would like to."

You questioned, "What if he's listening?" and gasped softly as Butcher tightly gripped your nipple and squeezed one of your tits, causing you to scream.

He continued, firmly thrusting his cock inside your pussy, “Are you afraid he's jerking off right now to your moanings? He better be.”

You cried out, “Don't say such things,” as he began to fuck into you more and more inside of you.

He spit in his palm and began to stroke your clit, muttering, “Why? Imagine him jerking off while watching us, getting hard watching your cunt railed by me.”

“Screw you, Butcher. Shut up,” you said, hitting him fiercely on the shoulder as he attempted to make you scream once again.

“The thought of you looking like this fucking drives me on so much. Are you okay with him watching us? Do you want to see your pussy full of my jizz as he watches you being fucked and cum in his hands? He must be beating his cock right now, hearing me filling your tight cunt.”

“No,” you said as you raised your hips in an attempt to match his tremendous rhythm. When he spoke to you in that manner, it was difficult to get off. “Cut it, Butcher.”

Despite your constant statements that you weren't into that kind of thing, Butcher was becoming more and more brutal with each stroke. This put your relationship on the brink, but you still cared deeply for him and found it difficult to please him at times, which left you feeling quite exhausted.

Butcher roared, “Fuck, yes,” slowing down to take his time and enjoy the twisted moment. “Maybe I should let him watch next time or even join; let him fuck you raw.”

You managed to say, “I don't like it when you talk this way,” in between his embarrassing words.

“Your body seems to like it, though,” Butcher remarked slyly. “Right now, your pussy clenches around my cock so well. Are you okay with him fucking you?”

“No,” you said, your eyes welling up with tears from his powerful hits, which were both pleasurable and painful. Even though you were so close, he was taking his time to enrage you. “All I want is you. The only person I want to fuck is you.”

Butcher turned you, pressing your face into the covers with a roar. You forced yourself to look away as he continued talking about really obscene things and becoming lost in his own fantasies, but his hand stopped you from speaking.

“I'm going to let him fuck you and rail your tight cunt till he fills your pussy up, until you are ready for me to be filled. Is it okay if he spills inside your pussy? Would you rather be fucked by someone else in front of your boyfriend?”

His hand over your mouth prevented you from denying it and telling him to stop talking. Your eyes welled up with tears as you continued to scream into his palm as he began to pound into you quickly and violently. While your other hand was firmly gripping the sheets beneath you, you tried to get him to relax by holding his palm to your mouth, but he pressed it even harder. You were really close.

“See your pussy's reaction to me. You need another cock so much. My girlfriend is such a big slut; I didn't know that.”

This time, Butcher moved his hand away from your lips and gave you a hard spanking on your ass cheek, nearly causing you to shout out in agony and pleasure. You moaned, “Please,” not really comprehending what you were pleading for.

“Please what?” Excited, Butcher asked. He continued to stroke his cock inside of you while gathering and pulling your hair. “Tell me you want to be fucked by him. How much do you want to be fucked by him, huh? Imagine Soldier Boy sucking your cunt.”

With one forceful stroke, Butcher slammed his cock into your pussy just as you tightened around it, roaring as he began to come inside of you. You finally clutched around his cock, moaning as your orgasm hit strong because his triggered yours.

“Fuck, love. That was good,” Butcher remarked, grunting as he removed his softened cock from your pussy.

Your cheeks reddened as you straightened your skirt, pulling up your underwear and giving him a furious look. “You know I don't like it when you talk about threesomes or anything related.”

He murmured, “Come on,” embracing you in his arms as he lit a cigarette. “We haven't been together for fucking two years, and you're not interested in trying anything new. You are aware that our relationship is currently becoming a little monotonous.”

You questioned with shock and disgust, “Boring? We love each other. Is this not enough?”

“Love can't solve everything out, my dear.” Butcher planted a firmly planted kiss on your lips. “You need to be receptive to new ideas. You know, I wasn't aware that you were so old-fashioned-minded.”

You refused, blushing with shame. “I'm not,” you said. “But what if it ruins our relationship?”

“It fucking won't,” he murmured, running his fingers over your tender spot. “It will make our relationship even better than before.”

You asked, hoping that at some point he would change his mind because it was twisted as fuck and you didn't want another man to touch you: “Do you really want to watch me getting fucked by someone else though?” Not Soldier Boy, in particular.

“Is it not evident? I want to jerk off and watch your gorgeous pussy get filled up with another man's sperm while you scream and get fucked hard.”

You sighed and reluctantly replied, “Okay.” A grin appeared on Butcher's face. He was shocked to see that, after weeks of trying, you were finally saying yes. “So be it.”

A week later, with just the three of you living in the house, Butcher was fucking you with his fingers when Soldier Boy burst through the door, smoking some weed.

When your eyes met his green ones, you wanted to press your knees together, but Butcher grabbed you firmly and murmured, “Don't be shy, relax,” as if it were natural and not at all awkward.

Before giving you a sly grin, Soldier Boy sat on the closest chair and smelled the white from the desk in front of him.

You made an effort to clear your head and concentrate just on the pleasure. You moaned in protest when Butcher stopped, leaving you on edge, just as your walls were about to tighten.

He noticed and then said, “You're ready now,” whispering to your lips as Soldier Boy removed his shirt, his broad muscles in sight.

After Butcher kissed you firmly, you put your knees together and sat in the chair that was very next to the bed, feeling a little uneasy.

Soldier Boy whispered, “Let's see what your little girlfriend is capable of.” He worked his cock and pulled down his sweatpants. “Come here.”

He moved your body on the bed before you could respond, put his hand behind your back, and brought his cock to your lips. You assumed it would be limited to simple fucking. In your lengthy partnership, even Butcher had only ever fucked your mouth two or three times. Now, a stranger who you had never even fucked before was going to make you suck him.

Before you could say anything, he slipped his cock between your lips, and your pulse was pounding in your chest. You gagged strongly, pressing your hands across his thighs to make him slow down.

With a deep voice, Butcher said, “Suck him good,” stroking himself as he watched your eyes well up with tears from being fucked on the mouth.

Soldier Boy moaned, “Use that mouth better,” and forcefully pressed his cock to your throat. It was difficult to swallow everything because it was so much larger than Butcher's.

His hand stoked your hair as you palmed his testicles and squeezed him, all while using your tongue to satiate him and get him to release his grip.

When you began to use your tongue and hands simultaneously, he groaned loudly. "Look at her eagerness. Desperately trying to make me cum in her mouth like a bitch.”

He halted your motion, grasped his shaft, and fixed your head in position. His precum was dripping from the tip, and his thumb hovered over the head of the cock.

This time, he said, “Suck the head,” pressing the head between your lips once more. “Look at me.”

His salty precum covered your tongue as you sucked the head off his shaft and took a look at him. It tasted nasty and salty. similar to Butcher's.

As he watched you suck Soldier Boy's hardness, Butcher remarked, “Fuck, you are so hot like this, baby,” and continued to stroke his dick.

“Fuck, I'm about to cum; don't you fucking stop.” With a moan, Soldier Boy kept your head still.

When he told you he was getting close, you attempted to back off. After all, you've never been fond of the taste of sperm.

Butcher remarked with a cunning smirk, “She doesn't like it to be spilled in her throat. You may, however, spill over her face. She finds it more appealing.”

“Do you take permission when you fuck her mouth and are about to cum?” With a single, hard thrust, Soldier Boy laughed and plunged his cock deep into your throat. His legs continued to push against your hands, which were trying to stop him before he reached your mouth, and your eyes began to well up with tears. “Relax your throat or it will be harder for you.”

When he groaned and began to fuck into your mouth, pushing it all the way down and spilling, filling your lips with his thick, white ropes, you kept moaning in fear. “Swallow it all.”

“Yes, fuck,” Butcher groaned out. "You're so fucking hot like this. Allow him to fill that lovely mouth."

You followed his instructions, and when he finished spitting inside your throat and you gasped, he pulled his cock out of your lips.

Soldier Boy pushed you to the bed and stated, “Not bad, but it can be better,” preventing you from catching some air.

He immediately inserted two fingers into your pussy and groaned, “Fucking slut. You are very wet. Look at you. Is it pleasant to get face-fucked by someone else in front of the one you love?”

“No,” you replied, trying not to break down too soon and astonished at how already wet you were. You were incredibly close.

“You adored it to the hilt. Perhaps you enjoy being forced? Did you enjoy being dominated?”

This time, you didn't respond, and as you rode your climax, your walls constricted around his fingers, causing your lips to separate in pleasure. You moaned so loudly that it caused Butcher to experience an orgasm as well.

“Fuck, sweetie.” He said, “I knew you would like it,” as he approached you and observed Soldier Boy continuing to finger your pussy. You wanted him to slow down, but he kept forcing his fingers inside, even though you felt oversensitive and your legs were shaking.

With a “Now it's time for real fuck,” Soldier Boy turned to face you and gave you a spank to your ass behind you.

Soldier Boy moved behind you, pumping his hardness a little harder, and Butcher took himself in hand again.

When Soldier Boy shoved his cock inside and Butcher groaned, “Look at me when he fucks you,” you closed your eyes.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him stroking himself while he watched you get railed by another man.

You were momentarily out of breath when Soldier Boy began to fuck you raw and hard while holding your hips tightly. His balls were slamming against your clit and making nasty noises while he was hissing behind you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning, but as soon as he began to quickly stroke your most sensitive area, you began to scream with both pleasure and pain.

Soldier Boy growled, “You fucking shameless slut,” and he hurried to get behind you. “Look at your guy as he takes himself in hand while I'm giving you a raw fuck. You enjoy being taken on by a stranger so much, don't you? You tightly clasp around me. Fuck it. From now on, I will fuck you every day.”

He forced your head into the covers, causing you to gasp for air while he continued to pound into you. You tried to get a breath, but you were powerless against his strong grip.

He grinned and added, “Cum around my cock or I'm not going to let you go. Cum around my cock while your boyfriend watches you getting railed.”

You clenched around him, desperate for air, and with a silent groan, you stepped around him. His strong hands made you tremble, and your climax lingered longer than expected, much to your surprise.

“This is how you fuck your woman,” Soldier Boy declared. “By stopping fucking taking permissions and giving what her slut body needed.”

Butcher got to the bed with a roar, and you found yourself on top of him. “Come here, baby.”

Your eyes widened in horror as Butcher shoved his cock inside your pussy while Soldier Boy was still inside of you. You trembled and whispered, “It's not possible.”

Your ass got spanked by Soldier Boy, who moaned, “Fucking shut up.”

You clasped your hands around Butcher's arms and screamed as their huge cocks were shoved in your pussy.

“You're so gorgeous like this, taking our cocks so good,” Butcher murmured when he simultaneously began to fuck you and so did Soldier Boy.

To press your pained moans, you started to kiss Butcher while Soldier Boy kept soaking and insulting you as he fucked you from behind.

“Such sluts like you have to be fucked exactly like this. For you, one cock is never enough. See your body's reaction when you take two dicks at once. You're encircling me with clamps and fucking leaking.”

Butcher moaned, “Keep going,” as he gave you short, hard strokes.

Soldier Boy muttered, “Gonna fill you up, baby,” and gently bit your neck while speaking in your ear.

Soldier Boy moaned as he fucked you with Butcher, and with one last blow, he began to spill inside of you, causing Butcher to have another orgasm. This continued until Soldier Boy humiliated you with words in every way possible.

With a loud gasp, you clamped around Butcher and continued to kiss him passionately.

Soldier Boy moaned, “Oh fuck,” as he continued to spill his thick white ropes inside of you and kissed the back of your neck firmly.

Check my MASTERLIST for more!

Turning your back to him, you kissed him on the lips passionately and said, “That was so good, baby.”

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fake-bleach · 4 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.

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