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morganwrites12672 · 3 months ago

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2003 - Twenty-One Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your doorstep after Sam leaves for Stanford. His emotions are at an all time high, this leads to a confession.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Enjoy! Here's the link to the rest of the series: 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤.

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Her life had changed after that day.

She had deleted Dean's phone number. Everytime John Winchester stopped by her father's house she found a way to be gone. Whether it was doing a grocery run even though she'd went the previous night or faking a cold. She couldn't bear to see Dean again.

The thought of him still made her chest ache. She had left that motel with tears in her eyes and never looked back. It had broken her heart to leave like that. It'd left a hole in her chest that she couldn't fill with anything, no matter how much she tried. It might have been three years but the pain was still raw every time she thought of him.

It was impossible for it to not hurt. Dean had been her first love. Well, that and her first heart break. She didn't live remembering how everything had went down in the end. Being special to someone had seemed like such a good thing. Until she discovered that she hadn't been as special as she had thought to Dean. He might not have actually cheated on her, but knowing that his eyes went to every other girl still hurt.

A lot had changed since then. She was older and wiser. She had grown up a lot from the socially awkward mess she had been whenever she had been with Dean. Growing up so isolated from healthy friendships where people knew her real name had definitely stunted her emotional growth. Not anymore. She'd done some growing up since she's turned eighteen. She'd had three years of freedom as a legal adult.

She might still live with her father but she didn't stay home all of the time. Hell, she even worked cases on her own sometimes. Sweet, sweet freedom. It felt great. She wasn't just some little kid anymore, no. She was a hunter. Saving people and hunting the things that go bump in the night felt good.

A knock on the front door jolted her out of her thoughts. Her father wouldn't be back from his hunt for a few more days, he'd called her to tell her that this morning. She couldn't think of anyone who would show up without an explanation, not this late. Gladys would have fallen asleep hours ago.

She peeked through the window and her heart caught in her throat. She could see the all too familiar Impala parked in the driveway. Pulling the door open she was greeted with the sight of someone who was all too familiar to her. What was Dean doing here? And why so late? Those questions and many more raced through her head.

"Dean?" She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took in how he looked now... damn good, like always. It was startling to notice the dried up tear tracks that currently stained his cheeks. She knew that she should say something, start the conversation. Maybe even ask if he was okay. And yet, she couldn't. Any other words that she might have said got stuck in her throat.

Dean looked at her, he was staring really. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looked just as perfect as she had the day that she'd left after that stupid argument. Dean had many regrets about letting her leave. But, he had been young and stupid. It had been three years. He had grown up a little bit since then.

"S-sammy left." His voice was hoarse, she could hear the strain in it as Dean tried to keep so many of the emotions he felt inside.

His words made her eyebrows furrow. She had many questions. They would all be able to wait a little bit though. She assumed that the younger Winchester brother had gotten tired of dealing with his father's shitty attitude and left. Not that she blamed him, not in the slightest.

She has gotten lucky with how kind her father had been growing up. Bobby had raised her well and had done the best he could. She still chose to stay there whenever she wasn't out hunting. He had never done anything serious that warranted her being upset enough to leave.

"Come inside," She said, stepping away so that Dean could walk inside.

She didn't have to worry about having to explain any of this to her father. Bobby wouldn't be home for a few more days. His hunt was at a convenient time. So was her week off. Any other week and the chance of it only being her father up at the house would have been fairly high. As he aged the older man went out on hunts less and less. She had began taking up more of them. Bobby was getting too old to spend all of his time out ganking monsters.

Dean silently walked into the house. He had been here recently. Whenever she wasn't home he stopped by to see Bobby. The older man was almost like a father to him. Actually, there was no almost to it. Bobby had been more of a father to him than his own father had been. John hadn't been the greatest guy. Not by a longshot.

"Thanks," Dean said, clearing his throat.

"Do you want a beer? Or something stronger?" She asked as she shut the front door. She had a feeling that Dean would opt for the second option. He looked like he could use a glass of whiskey right now.

"Something stronger," He replied quickly. "If you don't mind," He added after a second.

She nodded, disappearing from Dean's view as she walked into the kitchen. He had missed everything about her. The way she smiled, the sound of her voice after a long day, everything. Dean had loved her. Since he'd lost her he had tried filling the gaping hole in his chest with countless other woman. It hadn't worked, not even close. Sometimes he would be able to forget her in a night. Every morning after he remembered her though. It was impossible to get her out of his head.

In the kitchen she poured Dean a glass of whiskey and grabbed a beer for herself. She was not willing to be drinking something so strong right now. She planned on being as sober as possible tonight. She needed to remember as much of it as she could clearly. It wasn't often that she saw Dean. And, she wasn't sure how tonight was going to go.

Walking into the living room, she spotted Dean. He was lounging on the love seat, leg anxiously bouncing. It wouldn't have taken a psychologist to realize how upset he was over Sam leaving. She still had so many questions for her ex-lover. Something big must have happened whenever Sam left. Why else would Dean be a goddamn mess?

"Why'd he leave?" She asked softly, her voice smooth like marble as she spoke in that honey sweet tone of hers. She set the whiskey down in front of Dean, on the coffee table. She then sat down next to him.

The sound of her voice had Dean already feeling an ache in his chest. He missed her more than he would ever admit, to anyone. The thought of having a chance with her again was the only thing preventing him from crying anymore. He'd done enough of that on the drive over here. Now, he would handle things. Well, he would tell her about things. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his own emotions about the matter.

Dean picked up the glass of whiskey and downed half of it in one gulp. The amber liquid burned his throat as he swallowed. He welcomed the feeling with open arms. He needed something to help drown out his misery. He didn't think that he would be able to explain everything completely sober.

"He got into Stanford." Saying the words out loud made it feel even worse. "Dad was pissed. I've never seen him this mad."

She placed a hand on his knee. His words made her feel horrible. She knew all about how bad John's temper could be on what was considered a good day. Just imaging how horrible he must have treated his sons during that argument made her feel sick. She wanted nothing more than to wrap Dean up in her arms and tell him that everything would be okay. But, she couldn't. He wasn't hers anymore.

"You can stay here for the night," She said, unsure of what else to say. She couldn't say anything that would make this feel better. She could only try and help ease the pain Dean was in over all of this.

She scooted over on the couch, her thigh brushing up against Dean's. He melted into her touch as she pulled him into a hug. His head rested on the expanse of soft skin between her neck and shoulder. He could finally relax. He sighed, feeling the stress and emotional turmoil melt away in her arms.

For a minute he could pretend that everything was okay. For a minute, he believed that. He didn't have to think about everything that John had screamed as Sam had told his father about leaving for Stanford. He didn't have to think about his father or Sam at all. He could just be with her, and enjoy the comfort.

"You're going to be okay," She murmured, running her fingers through his short hair.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, his voice thick with unsaid words.

"You don't need to thank me," She replied.

Dean sniffled, clearing his throat. He sat up, trying to find the words to say. It had always been easy for him to speak with her in the last. The words had seemed to flow naturally, there was no walking on eggshells around her. She understood him and had loved him for who he was, flaws and all.

"No, not just for this. For everything," He said in a quiet voice. He missed her. Even if he didn't expect anything from her, he needed her to know. He needed her to know that she hadn't just been some fling to him. She had been his everything for a long while. She still was.

Her mouth went dry. Any words that she might have said caught in her throat. She hadn't been expecting the night to end this way. Whenever she woke up this morning she never in a million years would have predicted that this would happen, hell, she wouldn't have even thought that dean would show up let alone say something like that.

She wasn't the next one who spoke, Dean was.

"I've missed you. I-I know I screwed up."

His words shocked her even more. She might still love him, might, but that didn't mean that she could handle a relationship with him again. Well, it's not like she has a list of guys who she would rather be with. If she was being honest with herself then there was only one guy she could see herself with, and that guy was sitting across from her and asking for a second chance.

Dozens of replies went through her head. Not being able to find the words to speak made her use actions instead. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

Dean went still for a single second before reacting. One of his hands went to her waist as the other one could her jaw. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding past her lips. Words couldn't describe the amount of emotion and heart ache that they both poured into the kiss.

The only thing that seemed to exist right now to them was each other. One of her hands slid around Dean's shoulders, wrapping herself around him. She sighed into the kiss as Dean lightly nipped at her lip. She pulled away for a quick breath, gazing into his eyes. Being without him had been hell. She needed him as much as she needed oxygen.

"I missed you too."

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A/N: I think this is the last part for a little bit! Don't forget to reblog or comment if you enjoyed it!

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#𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 #over the years #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester series #Spn #supernatural

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 11 months ago

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Heatwave

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You get heatstroke while out with your brothers on a case, and they take care of you.

“Stay in the car,” Dean said as he stepped out of the Impala.

“But it’s hot in here,” you whined as the car turned off and the leather seats started to bake.

“We won’t be long,” Sam assured you. “But you’re a little young to pass for an agent, so stay.”

You wanted to listen, you really did. But the longer you stayed in the car, the more it began to feel like you were just in a giant oven, being slowly cooked for some sadistic witch to eat. Where were your brothers? It had been over an hour. Whatever the witness had to say, it must’ve been pretty interesting.

Your lips felt dry, and your head was starting to pound. Once you couldn’t take it anymore, you unbuckled your seatbelt—burning your hand on the metal clasp as you did—and stepped out of the car to track down your brothers.

…

Sam turned his head when he felt a tug on his jacket to see you standing at his elbow, your face bright red.

“Sammy, I’m hot,” you mumbled, swaying slightly on your feet.

“Sorry about that,” the woman they were interviewing spoke up. “The air conditioner’s broken.” She was looking curiously at you, like she didn’t know why you were there, but she opted to ignore it.

“How about you go outside,” Sam said under his breath to you.

“It’s even hotter out there,” you argued, wiping sweat off of your forehead.

“There was a breeze out there earlier, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Dean said. You could tell your brothers were starting to become impatient; they were anxious to continue questioning the witness.

“Fine,” you sighed, shuffling out the door and down the porch steps.

“Seems a bit young for an agent?” The witness questioned finally.

“It’s—uh—take your daughter to work day,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Now, we just had a couple more questions for you.”

…

You wandered around for a couple of minutes in the woman’s yard, but when your headache worsened and your stomach began to ache, you opted to sit on the curb. The ground was hot, but the heat on your legs was still better than standing, especially when your vision started to spin. The dark gravel seemed to move in front of you, which wasn’t helping the nausea building up inside you. You played with the idea of going to get your brothers again, but ultimately decided there was no point. They would interview the witness until they had what they needed, and your nagging wasn’t going to make it any faster. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure you could stand now without falling over, as you still couldn’t see straight.

The air was beginning to feel like a weighted blanket above you, pushing down on your shoulders and face until it felt like you were almost choking on the humidity. As pain pounded behind your eyes, you felt and heard your breathing start to labor.

Confusion clouded your mind. Were you sick? What was happening to you? Where were Sam and Dean?

As though the very thought of them was a summoner, a hand on your shoulder had you turning your head to see Dean, concern etched on his face. His voice sounded distorted, like he was talking from behind a glass wall.

“You ok, kid?”

Sam’s hands on your face had your head turning the other direction.

“Hey, just try to breathe, ok?” Sam’s eyes turned to Dean. “She’s really hot, she might be dehydrated.”

“Ok, let’s get you to some air conditioning,” Dean said, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you to your feet. “Whoa.” Dean tried to steady you as you wobbled in your legs.

“Hey, look at me.” Now Sam sounded like he was talking under water. You tried to focus in on his eyes, but your vision was too clouded. You could see the light tan of his skin, and the dark brown of his hair, but even that was becoming obscure as black spots darted in front of you.

“S’my…” your voice came out muffled, as you couldn’t seem to find the energy to open your mouth all the way. All the strength was seeping out of you one muscle at a time, until Dean felt all of your weight collapse in his arms.

“Hey, hey!” Sam slapped at your face as Dean lifted you into his arms, pulling you away from Sam and hurrying you towards the Impala.

The brothers reached the car simultaneously, and Dean laid you carefully in the back while Sam started the car and got the air on blast.

“Should we take her to a hospital?” Sam asked as he got in the passenger seat. Dean started down the road, already shaking his head.

“No. This town is too small, we can’t start drawing attention to ourselves with these bodies dropping, there would be too many questions we can’t answer.”

“But Dean—“

“Look, she’s either dehydrated, or it’s heatstroke. Either way, we’re gonna get her to the hotel, get her in a cold bath, and get her some water. If she doesn’t wake up soon, then we can talk about a hospital, ok?”

Sam didn’t argue, and within twenty minutes you were awake and alert in an ice bath.

“What—where—“

“Hey, easy kid,” Dean soothed, bringing his hands to your shoulders. “Don’t get up, just rest for a second.”

“It’s definitely heatstroke,” Sam called from the other room where he was hunched over his computer. “Just keep her in there until her body temperature goes down. She should drink water, too.”

Dean took all this information in while pressing a hand to your forehead, trying to gauge your temperature.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked softly.

“Cold.” You shivered.

“Yeah, well, it’s better than the alternative.” Dean sighed, relief coloring his features. “You really freaked us out there, kid.”

You shifted guiltily, staring at your lap.

“I tried to tell you,” you mumbled shyly. Dean cringed.

“Yeah, yeah you did.” Dean grabbed onto your hands, letting the cold water cover both of your hands. You looked up at him. “I’m sorry, you’re right. This wasn’t your fault, ok? I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’s ok,” you mumbled, and Dean sighed again.

“No it’s not,” he said, more to himself than to you. “C’mon,” he directed at you. “Let’s get you out of there.”

…

Within ten minutes you were in dry clothes with about seven water bottles strewn around you.

“I can’t drink all of these,” you protested as Sam handed you yet another one.

“Sure you can,” Dean insisted, the ghost of a smirk haunting his twitching features. “Now go on.”

“Dean.” You huffed.

“Hey,” Sam interrupted. “Heatstroke is serious, ok? You gotta drink some water.”

“Ok, ok, but that doesn’t mean I have to start a drought,” you said, taking a handful of bottles and putting them on the desk next to you. “Now how long are you gonna make me stay in this bed?” Even as you asked, you yawned and made yourself comfortable.

Sam grinned. “You’ve gotta get a lot of rest for the next couple of days, but I’m serious, this was not good. We’ll have to make sure you’re not overheated, and you’re drinking enough water, for a few weeks at least.”

You sobered a little at your brother’s words.

“Weeks? It’s that bad?”

You regretted your question, because you now could see the way your brothers were kicking themselves about what happened.

“Yeah, it’s that bad,” Sam sighed.

“Hey,” you spoke up again. “It’s ok, alright? You guys were busy, and—“

“No,” Dean interrupted, his eyes hard. “No. A hunt should never be more important than you, ever. I’m not gonna let that happen again.”

“Okay,” you said. “I believe you, and I forgive you.” You remained stoic for a few seconds before your lips twitched into a smile. “And I’ll hold you to that.”

Dean chuckled softly, reassured.

“Please do.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester

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mermaidgirl30 · 8 months ago

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✨New Beginnings✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: I loved writing this, it was so soft 🥹 This can be read as a stand alone, but it is a continuation of my fic Fortnight! I hope you enjoy! This is the ending I wanted for them 🥰 Might write another little cute one shot for them in the near future because I love them so much. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for beta reading and helping me with the mood board 🩷

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years healing, growing, and letting go. During a day at the lake, fate steps in when you run into Joel without a wedding ring on.

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: fluff, flirting, making up for lost time, old flame, no use y/n, reader sees Joel again after 3 years, reader has a dog named Sammy

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The summer breeze of Austin rushes through your hair, the smell of fresh oak, the sloshing sounds of lapping blue water, and the feel of new beginnings permeates throughout the air. Summer. Your favorite time of year, your favorite place to be. Georgetown Lake. An escape, a picturesque safe haven where you can sunbathe and let Sammy, your golden retriever, pounce around the clear water as it splashes against his sandy fur.

You’ve been doing okay lately, healing, moving on like you should’ve a long time ago. After sulking around the house days after the mail incident with Joel, you knew it was time to do something, anything to make that pit of sadness wash away. You couldn’t face Tess again, face him, not after you broke down in tears the moment he slipped his calloused fingers firmly around your wrist. It was too much, too soon, too fresh. Even though it had been years since you’d broken up. You never quite got over him, his face, his eyes. But It was way past time, the time to move on.

So you moved, put a sign outside your house to let everyone know it was on the market and sold to the first offer you got. You remember Joel’s face after he saw the posted sign in your yard full of dying roses. He looked so sad, the flecks of his dark irises shining in the February chill as you caught his eyes after hammering the sign in the soft ground. You were wilting more than your red roses, and you needed a breath of fresh air, a way to thrive and grow like your flowers used to be. It was your sign to flee.

After you sold your house and moved half an hour away, you could finally breathe, the wilts of your lilting petals starting to bloom and thrive the longer you were away from them.

You saw the pictures of their wedding on social media, saw how truly happy they looked. You remember shedding a tear or two looking at the photographs, at her flowing wedding dress, at their shared kiss after saying their “I do’s”. It was enough to send you spiraling, enough to make you drop your laptop and crack the screen. And that was the last time you saw Joel Miller. There was no sense in dwindling over what if’s. It was over, done. You swore you’d never see his face again in the city of Austin. He was the past, you had to look towards your future.

You got a new job, working for an environmental engineering company and helping with tracking the bluegill and catfish populations in the lakes around Austin. You liked working outside, loved being near the water. You always felt at home out on the lake with the soft sand sinking between your toes, the calm breeze always blowing away any worries of your messy life. But it wasn’t so messy anymore. It was peaceful, bright, made you feel alive.

You throw the damp tennis ball again, laughing at the way Sammy flops into the water and splashes around, eagerly fetching the soaked ball as he brings it over to you again.

“You ready, Sammy? Go get it!” you yell as you toss the ball back towards the water. He shakes his soaked fur and makes a run for it, but he stops half way and perks his fuzzy ears up at something in the distance. “Sammy?”

You watch him pant happily and make a dash for it in the opposite direction, barking at nothing you can see. “Sammy!” You follow after him, sprinting behind as you hear his chipper barks and feel your hair blow back behind you as you chase after him.

“Sammy, come on! This isn’t like you,” you breathe out as you run until your legs feel like jello and feel as if you’ll pass out at any second.

Your bare feet drag through the sand on the shore, your breath feeling as if it’s on fire as you run and run and run until you finally see his giddy, long tail and golden paws that leap up off the ground. What’s got him so excited? He never runs up to strangers.

“Sammy! Come here, boy,” you clap your hands together as you walk towards whoever he’s got wrapped around his cute, fluffy face.

“I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this. I…” You freeze, your breath hitching as you stare at the man that fully consumes your vision. Joel.

He looks over at you, a warm smile curling against the edge of his plush lips as his golden brown eyes crinkle down at you. It nearly takes your breath away. He looks so… good.

He’s filled out more, his flexed arms and broad chest clinging to his white t-shirt, corded veins twisting down his tan arms almost like you remember. He looks more buff, more healthy, like maybe he stopped drinking that amber colored whiskey he used to love. His grey threaded curls are grown out, his doe brown eyes more shiny, more alive than the last time you saw him. And he looks like he’s happy, so happy. It’s amazing what three years of not seeing him can do to your own mind. The sight of him almost makes you dizzy, delusional, like maybe this is fate.

“Joel?” you whisper out, your voice shaky and breathy as your eyes slide down his blue swim trunks, his leather sandals, his tan skin that seems to glow like glitter under the orange beams of the sunlight.

“Yeah, it’s me. Nice to see Sammy’s doin’ good. Guess he remembers me,” he chuckles as he bends down and scratches the back of Sammy’s fluffy ears. Sammy jumps up and licks the side of his face as another infectious smile takes over Joel’s glowing face.

Joel laughs as he wipes the slobber from his greying scruff and stands back up, bright eyes blazing through you as he flicks his gaze slowly over your figure. You feel a little self conscious standing in your too short denim shorts and baby blue crop top as you fold your arms nervously over your chest. Why are you so nervous?

“It’s uhh… good to see ya. How ya been?” he asks slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as his hand drags through the curling strands that sit against the nape of his neck.

“Good. Yeah, good,” you nod as your fingers dance nervously up and down your scorching arms. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good, too. Busy, but that’s always good. Been workin’ a lot, contractin’, the usual.”

You nod your head, watching the way his heavy gaze never leaves your eyes. Suddenly, it feels too hot, too intense. That spark simmers low in your stomach, that strong pull that you always felt when you were around him. It’s almost like you were meant to meet here like this, unplanned. Maybe it was fate. Maybe… but then you remember Tess. Where was Tess?

“You, umm enjoyin’ your new place? House, apartment, wherever you moved?” His tone is gentle, like he’s genuinely interested in how you’ve been, where you moved. And it feels strange, but also like it needs to be asked.

“Oh, yeah. Actually, I love it. I moved just a few miles from the lake. It’s so peaceful, being able to come out here whenever I want to.” Your eyes flick over the calm water, examining the gentle ripples of the clear lake, but then Joel’s deep voice brings you back to the present.

“Sounds like you’ve been doin’ good.” He gives you a lazy smile, one where it’s crooked and soft and so serene that you can’t help but smile back.

“Yeah, I really have.”

“That’s good, real good,” he says as he nods his head, just continuing to stare at you in awe. And it’s like you’re just seeing him for the first time, that summertime glow just sizzling off his tan skin.

Your eyes wander over him, lapping up his broad muscles and dreamy smile and untamed curls. He looks so handsome. You don’t know what it is, but something brand new seems to shine through him.

“You look… different,” you say with narrowed eyes, trying to assess what exactly is different, but you’re not sure what.

“Yeah? That a good thing or bad thing?” he chuckles as he runs a hand straight back through his lush curls. The action makes your breath get caught in the back of your throat.

“I dunno. Think it looks good on you, whatever it is.” You smile nervously up at him and bat your eyelashes flirtatiously.

“Yeah?” he smirks as the flecks of his dark eyes glisten under the rays of the hot sun.

“Yeah,” you reply bashfully. “You seem more… happy.”

He chuckles as he shoves his thick fingers into the pockets of his blue shorts. “Guess that’s what happens when a man stops drinkin’.”

Your eyes grow wide as your mouth drops open. “You? The Joel Miller has stopped drinking his precious whiskey?” you ask dumbfoundedly.

“Mhm. Mostly. Haven’t touched a bottle in three months. Been doin’ good, feelin’ stronger, more sharp. Even been hittin’ the gym.”

You smile warmly over at him, your eyes alight as you drop your arms to your side and nod, his words taking your breath right out from your chest. “Joel, that’s so great. I’m so… so… proud of you.”

He nods slowly at you, the dimple indenting the middle of his cheek as his crooked smile makes you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. Like there’s hope. “Proud of me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whisper out.

“Well, that’s sweet of ya to say, darlin’.”

Darlin’. He hasn’t called you that in so long, you almost forgot how good it feels to hear seep off his sticky sweet voice, that gravelly lull that soothes your racing pulse in your chest.

You suddenly notice his left hand, tracing every inch, every tan speck of his thick fingers. It’s unusually bare, no gold ring like in the wedding pictures you saw online. It’s gone, vanished. Was Tess and him, dare you say… over?

He watches you assess his empty ring finger, his eyes flicking over your narrowed, confused face as you stare so hard that you think your eyes might fall out onto the smooth sand.

You open your mouth, drawing air into your tight lungs, until you release the words you’ve been wondering this whole entire time. “Are you and Tess still…” You can’t even finish your sentence, afraid that maybe he’d just left his ring at home or left it at the jewelry shop to get polished up.

He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Nah. We ended things last year.”

“Oh.” You’re dumbstruck, your mouth agape as he says the words you were almost too scared to hope for. Not that you wanted things to end badly between them, but somewhere deep inside you still wished that maybe one day you could find each other again. And as fate twisted its tethered vines around the two of you, it seems like this was meant to be.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you say with tight knit brows.

“Don’t gotta apologize, wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but still. I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a tight lipped smile. “After gettin’ married, we jus’ realized we wanted different things. Things weren’t the same as before, and we decided it was better off if we went our own separate ways. There’s no hard feelings, jus’ was better off not bein’ together. We gave it a good two years, but ultimately it jus’ didn’t work out, and that’s fine. Had a lot of growin’ to do after, found my own pace again. It was the best choice. I’m much… guess you could say happier now.”

“Oh, well that’s good. I’m glad things turned out for the best.”

“Me too.”

You give Joel a small smile, and he sends a dreamy one back your way, all crinkled eyes and that crooked smile that makes you dizzy every time you look at him.

He shifts his weight and digs his heel into the soft sand. His eyes look down towards the ground, then flick slowly up towards you, almost like he’s nervous.

“Hey, do you maybe wanna go grab some coffee this week with me?” His hand scratches the back of the scruff on his neck nervously as his jaw ticks from the building anticipation.

“Houndstooth Coffee?” you ask with a raised brow.

He chuckles warmly and nods. “‘Course. Only the best.”

You smile in reply. “Okay. Yeah. I’m in.”

“Great.”

You both stand there in the heat of the afternoon, gentle smiles pressing against both of your lips as Sammy barks and runs circles around you and Joel.

As if Sammy is trying to intrude on the awkward moment between you and Joel, he jumps up and presses his damp paws on your back which knocks you off balance and sends you lurching forward.

“Sammy!” you whine. As if on cue, Joel reaches out and catches you, wrapping his strong arms around your hips as he balances you back on your feet.

“Whoa there, easy now,” he chuckles as he lingers his big hands on your shimmering skin. Your mouth parts open, and you gasp as you look up to find kind, dreamy brown eyes staring down at you, almost like he’s mesmerized. And for the moment, it feels like the first time the two of you ever met, almost magical, but this seems new.

You hook a strand of hair nervously behind your ear and laugh. “Always showing up at the right time it seems.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” he smiles kindly.

You stand there breathing his air, feeling a little dizzy at the smell of his woodsy scent, no more whiskey fragrance lingering in his sandy hair. You feel the tension, the chemistry just bursting at the seams. And you know now that this was fate, it had to be.

Joel gives Sammy a couple more scratches behind the ears and then looks over at you with a crooked smile. “Well, it was good seein’ ya again. Been a long time,” he sighs while you nod in response.

“Yeah, it really has…”

Another long minute goes by and then he’s taking one hesitant step back. “Well, guess I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll umm text you about coffee.”

Before he can take another step back, you hold your hand out as if to reach him. “Wait.” He ticks his jaw and knits his eyebrows together as he waits for you to finish. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He smirks over at you. “Jus’ thought I’d let you get back to enjoyin’ the lake. Figured I was interruptin’.”

You shake your head. “No, not at all. Please, stay.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and he chuckles in response as his dark brown irises seem to glow in the sunlight.

“Always knew how to get me with those big, beautiful eyes.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and bag your eyelashes sweetly up at him. “What, like this?”

He just crosses his broad arms over his chest and smirks over at you. “Mhm. Jus’ like that, gorgeous. Jus’ like that.”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel the crimson blush taking over, lingering your fingers against his wrist as you ask sweetly. “So, will you stay?”

Joel nods and smiles. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ll stay.”

And he does stay, until the sun starts to slip under the fluffy clouds. He stays the entire afternoon, walking along the shoreline with you, playing fetch with Sammy, catching up on lost time together, starting fresh. It’s almost like he never left, picking up right where you left off. And maybe it was supposed to be like this. Like you had to fall apart to fall back into one another.

And when the sunset starts to fade to light purples and pink colors in the distance while you sit on the edge of the wooden dock, he leans over and kisses you softly. It’s like the world fades to black, and there’s only you and Joel getting lost in one another. His hands cradle your face softly, his plush lips melting into yours as you taste him and let the syrupy taste mix in with yours.

This is how it was supposed to be, how it was always supposed to be. You had to find each other later in life, begin again, have this special moment in time. It was fate, always had been. He was always the one for you, and this just solidifies it.

When he breaks the kiss, you lean against him while he wraps a large arm around you. You gaze out to the calm blue water and take a breath of fresh wildflowers in the air. “Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as he looks down at you.

“Thank you for staying.”

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “‘Course, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Gonna just stay right here with you in my arms.”

You lean your full weight into his warm chest as he scoops you up into his lap and hooks his arms around your waist, his lips lingering against your jawline. You take a deep breath and smile as you look out against the misty lake. You were finally home, with him.

Your forever.

Tags: @laurrrra @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @littlevenicebitch69 @honey-dip-24 @sawymredfox

@orcasoul @thundermartini @solllaris @vivian-pascal @jessthebaker @vie-is-punk

@hoeruiner @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @amyispxnk @morallyinept @milla-frenchy

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#joel miller fan fiction #Joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #no outbreak au #no use of y/n

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 8 months ago

Text

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 2

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Kissing. Pining. Lusting. 😁

Word Count: 5,192

A/N: Here is the next chapter. I hope you're enjoying this 1900s Dean x Reader AU. Thanks for all your kind words about Ch. 1.

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Dean visited the library at the same time for the next two days, hoping Y/N would be spending Lucy's nap time there again. But she didn't show up. He saw her only briefly when she came to dinner every evening. However, she rarely spoke and left quickly at the end of the meal. She was always polite, always answered any question put to her, but mostly she kept her head bowed demurely and stayed silent.

On the evening of his second day, as soon as Y/N was out of the dining room, Jessica walked up to Dean and punched him in the arm.

He shot her a glare as she moved off to help Sophie, their kitchen maid, clear the table. "What was that for?" he asked.

"What did you do to her?" Before he could defend himself Jessica put a hand up to stop him. "No, don't try to look innocent. Before your arrival we were making headway with Y/N. She'd been so painfully shy when she first got here. It was all, 'Yes, Sir’ and ‘Yes, Ma'am'. She'd finally begun to call me Jessica, but now I'm back to being Ma'am. And she barely speaks now! What did you do?"

Dean shrugged and gave his most innocent look. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jessica rolled her eyes and moved off to the kitchen. Sam watched his wife walk out of the room before confronting Dean.

"Look, you know I don't tell you how to live your life. I walked away from Father's life, and you took it onto your shoulders. You get all the pressure, all the societal gossip, all the responsibility of keeping the family business afloat. For all of that, I figure that you're entitled to do as you choose in your personal life."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But Dean, don't mess around with this woman. She's kind and innocent and she doesn't deserve to be yanked around by you, or left broken-hearted."

Dean frowned. Did his brother really think he went around ruining women and breaking their hearts? "You wound me, Sammy." He said, only half joking. "I mostly bed bored wives and widows and they all know what the situation is. I don't go about my life leaving a trail of broken hearts behind me."

"How would you know?" Sam asked, sarcasm thick in his voice. "You never look back to notice." When Dean started to try and defend himself again Sam just shook his head. "Look, I just mean, don't treat Y/N with disrespect."

"Of course not." Dean said. But as Sam left to set up their card game in the parlor, Dean realized he had been disrespectful to Y/N. He'd have to track her down tomorrow and rectify that.

To Dean's delight the next day, he found Y/N at the far south end of Sam's property, sitting on a bench in the apple orchard. As he stepped from behind a large stand of trees, he cleared his throat, trying not to startle Y/N again. But she must have heard him coming through the leaves on the ground because she didn't look startled. She looked like a deer in the rifle sights of a hunter. He smiled, trying to put her at ease.

"Good afternoon, Y/N. I'm so glad I found you." He decided to do away with formalities, given the proposition he had planned.

She cleared her throat, but it was still soft and husky when she spoke. "Yes, so nice to see you too, Mr. Winchester. I was just about to head back up to the house, so if you'll excuse me…" She tried to walk briskly past him, but he caught her arm and tucked it into his.

"Wonderful, so was I. I'll walk you up to the house."

She looked like she wanted to argue, her mouth opening and closing several times before simply saying, "thank you" in a small voice. They walked a moment in silence. Then Dean decided to get right to the point.

"I realized that I may have seemed terribly rude the other day. I acted without explaining to you what my intentions were, what they are, I mean."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression surprised and slightly perplexed. "Your intentions?"

"Yes, you see, from the moment I saw you sitting on that bench by the train station, I've known I want to take you as my mistress."

Y/N stumbled, but Dean kept her upright. "Careful." He said as he stopped and turned to face her. "Now, I know that you're an intelligent, beautiful woman. I would never dream of asking you to come away with me if I couldn't provide for you." Dean smiled and began walking again, leading her forward.

"You'd have your own house, of course. I'd give you a household allowance and a clothing allowance. I'd expect you to attend some societal obligations with me. Only the ones where wives aren't present, obviously, but that's still a fair few. It would likely be one a week at least. Other than those obligations, your days would be yours and I would come to visit you a few times a week. I'll always try to let you know of my intentions the day before, but sometimes my schedule can be unpredictable."

Dean stopped again and turned to face Y/N. She stopped when he did, but stayed staring straight ahead. He couldn't tell what she thought of his proposal. He walked in front of her to try and see what her answer might be.

"Do you have any demands you would like to make of me?" He asked, unsure of her feelings.

Her features were flat and expressionless, until she met his gaze. Then he could see that her eyes burned so dark, they looked black. She raised her arm and her palm came down in a fiercely stinging slap across his left cheek. He stood stunned for a moment, before looking back to stare in astonishment at the absolutely furious woman standing before him. Her breasts were heaving, her cheeks were flushed and the anger sparked from her gaze like sparks from a fire. She was magnificent.

She raised her hand to slap him again, but he saw it coming this time and grabbed her wrist, holding tight. She pulled hard against his grip and he let her go, afraid that he'd break the fragile bones he could feel moving under his hand.

Suddenly her beautiful face contorted and she grabbed up her skirts and ran. It took Dean a moment to realize she was crying.

Well, dammit he thought. That did not go the way I planned.

***

Y/N sat in the library the next day alternating between rage and despair.

Clearly she was everything her mother had been. Obviously in spite of everything she'd worked for, the world could still tell she was the daughter of a fallen woman.

Her mother had been the disgraced daughter of an English Lord. She'd been shipped off to America to live with an elderly aunt until she could be safely married off to Y/N's father.

This was information she only learned at the age of sixteen when a so-called friend, Meg, had told her. Meg had tried to hide her glee as she explained to Y/N the reasons why some of the other girls at their boarding school shunned her. The rumors surrounding her mother and her hasty marriage were old, but still circulating.

Y/N had been mortified, but she'd confronted her mother about it at the summer break. Isobel had looked stricken but then said that yes, the rumors were true. She wouldn't talk about it except to say that Y/N should always keep herself pure and chaste.

She took Y/N by the shoulders. "Your purity, your chastity, it is everything. The pious will tell you that your soul depends on it, but I'm telling you Y/N that not only will your soul suffer if you give in to passion, your life will suffer too. Stay away from men."

It was some of the last advice Isobel had ever given Y/N. Three weeks later, her mother died of blood poisoning after a cut had become infected.

Y/N hadn't known how to feel. She was sad, of course, but she'd barely known her mother, really. Her father had died when she was very young and her mother had been mostly absent, letting first the nannies and then teachers at the boarding school raise her daughter.

On top of the rumors surrounding her early years, it was suggested by some that after her husband's death, Isobel lived as a kept woman. Y/N wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she knew by the whispers and slightly curled lips that it was dirty and wrong.

And now she'd been offered the same life.

As she'd listened to Dean lay out his offer, she realized that this must have been what people had meant when they said her mother was "kept". A man had paid for her living expenses in exchange for…for what, exactly? Dean had said that he'd want her to accompany him out sometimes and that he'd visit her.

What would happen during those visits? Whatever it was had to be the reason people had seemed repulsed when they talked about Isobel.

Her mother had money, Y/N always knew that. It was how they afforded their beautiful home and the boarding school that was Y/N's other home. But when she'd been young she'd never thought where the money had come from, she assumed maybe from a trust her father had left.

But of course that was impossible. Her father had owned a modest general store with two locations in the city of New York. He had been firmly middle class, and couldn't have provided that kind of life for them.

When her schooling had ended shortly after her mother's death, she had no marriage prospects and no job prospects either. No one wanted a governess from a questionable past, especially one who was young and beautiful. That's what Mrs. Oliver had told her anyway.

Mrs. Oliver had been her savior. She was an elderly lady who sat on the board of the school and gave large donations. Y/N had met her at some of the school functions, when the girls were trotted out to converse with the patrons and show them their donations were creating lovely, demure young ladies.

Mrs. Oliver had liked Y/N right away. She liked her wit and her kindness and when Y/N left school, she’d offered her a position as her companion. Y/N took the position and counted her lucky stars.

Mrs. Oliver was still sharp and lively even into her seventies and working as her companion had been the happiest Y/N had ever been. She'd worked for Mrs. Oliver for just over five years before the lady passed away peacefully in her sleep.

Y/N had come to work for the Winchesters soon after, thanks to the glowing reference Mrs. Oliver had left for Y/N in her will. Now she'd been a governess for nearly two years, and had begun to believe that maybe she'd outrun her mother's scandalous life. Maybe she wouldn't turn into a "ruined woman incapable of controlling her passions". That was how she'd heard her mother described once.

But no, here she was, acting completely inappropriately with a man she'd only just met. Acting so inappropriately, in fact, that he believed she would welcome being a kept woman.

As she sat in the library, her rage left her and the despair rose again. She was a lost cause. Her soul was obviously already tarnished and if she wasn't careful, her life would be too.

***

Dean had gone to the orchard first, looking for Y/N, before trying the library, so his clothes were damp and his hair was wet from the misting drizzle that was falling. He tried the library as a last hope and almost heaved a sigh of relief as he saw Y/N's form folded into the green chair.

He knew that Sam and Jessica had taken Lucy to town for a couple of hours to see the circus parade that was going down Main Street before setting up in the fairgrounds. Only the groundskeeper, Kenneth, and Sophie the cook were around. So Dean closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He didn't want to be disturbed.

As he approached her, he could tell that she had been crying. A pain he didn't recognize clenched his gut and he realized it was remorse. He had been the one to make her cry. He had to fix it.

"Good afternoon, Y/N." He said as he took a seat on the couch facing her.

She resolutely ignored him, as if he hadn't even spoken. She wasn't going to make this easy.

"Look," he began, "I can clearly see that I've hurt and insulted you. Please believe that was the last thing I intended. I only meant to show you that I didn't think you were just some easy maid to be tumbled and forgotten. I wanted you to know that I was offering you more. I wanted to provide you with luxury and wealth.”

He clasped his hands together. “I know my brother and sister-in-law pay well but still, a governess' salary isn't much. When we finished our time together, you would have had enough to live on your own quite comfortably. You'd be cared for, and wouldn't have to worry about earning money again. That's what I was trying to tell you. I wanted to offer you so much more than you have now. I thought perhaps you wanted more as well."

She looked up from her lap. Her stony face was still beautiful, even in its sharp, harsh lines. Her gaze scorched him.

"Please, leave. I am rejecting your proposal." Her voice was all ice; it made him long to melt it.

"I gathered that you rejected my proposal when you ran away from me and then refused to come to dinner last night." Sam and Jessica had been sure it was his fault she didn't come down and since he was also sure it was his fault, he didn't even argue very hard.

"I accept your rejection of my proposal. But I don't want to leave. I wanted to talk with you a while."

Y/N just returned her attention to the book she had in her lap. He sighed. He took a chance and moved to kneel on one knee in front of her chair. The closeness had the desired effect of surprising her out of her block of ice.

He took her chin in one hand, lightly, so she could pull away if she wanted to. She didn't.

"Truly, Y/N, I want you to know how sorry I am to have insulted you or hurt you. Please believe that was never my intention."

He saw a slight thaw in her gaze and decided to take it as a win. He didn't want to push his luck so he left the library.

He returned the next day in the hope that she would be there; she was. She was also there the next day and the day after that. The hours between two o'clock and four o'clock quickly became his favorite time of day. Over the three afternoons they spent together the ice in Y/N's smile began to thaw more and more until he was able to pull actual, sweet smiles from her. They were like a prize.

They spent their time discussing books they’d read and loved and explaining only a little bit about their backgrounds - Y/N seemed as reluctant as he was to discuss it. So instead they talked of world events and Y/N described her excitement at the prospect of the World's Fair that was coming to St. Louis in 1904.

She’d longed to go to the previous World's Fair in Omaha the year before, but of course, she couldn't afford it and Lucy had been too little for Sam and Jessica to want to take her. Y/N hoped that because Lucy would be nearly eight years old by the time the next World's Fair arrived,Jessica and Sam might take them all to St. Louis to see it. When she talked about it, her enthusiasm and excitement made Dean very happy.

After dinner one evening he caught up with her as she left to go to her room in the nursery. He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind a large mahogany bookshelf. She looked surprised and tense. He smiled.

"Run away to the circus with me." It was such a ridiculous request that it shocked a chuckle out of her.

"What?" She asked, her mouth stretching into an adorable grin.

"Come with me tomorrow afternoon. It's the last day the circus will be in town, let's go see it. It's no World's Fair, but it should be fun. It's your day off tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Don't say no. Say yes."

She shook her head. "Why are you even asking me if you're just going to answer your own question? Why not just ask yourself to go?" Her voice was teasing.

"I make terrible company."

"You're not being very convincing."

"I'll buy you popcorn."

"Well, that seals it then." Y/N said. "You should have started the request with popcorn."

***

Y/N stood in front of her mirror and contemplated changing for the third time that afternoon. The indigo blue cotton dress she wore now was simple and modest. The puffs on the sleeves weren't too large, which she'd liked a few minutes ago when she'd pulled it on. But now she was wondering if she should have puffed sleeves at all. Did it seem as if she was putting on airs, trying too hard to look like more than a governess? Perhaps she should have just worn the serviceable gray wool she wore during her days with Lucy.

Her opportunity to change ended when she heard the soft knock at the door and Jessica called, "The carriage is ready for you and Dean."

Y/N opened the door and smiled, trying to hide her nervousness. Jessica clasped her hands and brought them to her lips.

"Oh, Y/N, you look so beautiful. That dress is lovely."

"Thank you." Y/N said, suddenly shy. She liked Jessica very much, Sam too. They were both kind, fair, and wonderful employers. She felt as though they could be real friends if they weren't separated by the professional relationship between them.

She wondered what Jessica thought about her stepping out with her brother-in-law. Before she could wonder for very long, however, Jessica linked their arms and started walking Y/N towards the front door. On the way she offered some advice.

"Dean is a good man. You know, he paid for Sam's schooling and helped him start a practice in spite of their father's disapproval. He wanted both his sons to follow in his footsteps and run the business. But Dean knew that Sam's heart lay in the law. So, he defied the old man and took care of his brother." She took a deep breath. "So, please don't think that I'm giving you this warning out of any sort of concern about Dean's honor."

She stopped just inside the front door. "He doesn't try to ruin women. He doesn't mean to break hearts. He's just…well, he's just him. And although he certainly knows he's more handsome than the devil," she rolled her eyes, "I really don't think he understands the effect he has on women. They fall for him, and he's moved on before he ever even thinks to catch them."

She grabbed Y/N's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I guess I just want you to be careful, and maybe put a bit of a wall up around your heart."

Y/N was blushing, but she nodded. She was way ahead of Jessica. Over the last few days Dean had shown her that he was intelligent, compassionate, sardonic but hilarious, and wonderful with his niece. She'd forgiven him for his proposal, believing that he was truly sorry and that it had all been a misunderstanding. Perhaps the way she'd behaved with him in the library that first day had made him believe she would welcome the offer.

Whatever the case, there had been no more such talk and in all other respects he'd acted as a perfect gentleman.

Did her heart still pick up its pace every time he walked into a room? Yes.

Did her stomach flip and fill with butterflies when she looked too long into his eyes? Yes.

Did her fingers sometimes itch and tingle with the need to reach out and touch him? Yes.

But as long as she didn't give in to her wanton thoughts, she would be fine. Dean was leaving in about a week; she could manage to hold herself in check. She admitted that she was excited for today's outing to the circus, but only because she'd always wanted to see one. It had nothing to do with Dean.

Then Jessica opened the front door and there he stood. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored to him perfectly. His eyes were more of a mossy green than emerald today, and they were full of good humor. He smiled his dazzling smile at her and her belly was suddenly full of butterflies again.

He offered an outstretched hand for her to take so he could help her down the stairs. She slipped her hand into his and tried to ignore the warmth that spread up her arm because of the simple touch. But the thought came unbidden to her mind that she wanted to feel his hands everywhere. She was horrified and almost turned around to run back inside.

But she didn't. She continued with Dean into the carriage. Kenneth was driving them and he tipped his hat to her as she climbed in. The open air carriage allowed the sunlight to pour over her and she relished the extra days of summer they had been granted.

Dean climbed in and sat beside her. She could feel the hard length of his thigh even through her layers of skirts and petticoats. She tightened her fist around the parasol she carried and tried without success to ignore the feelings that came from sitting next to Dean.

He always smelled like shaving soap, and something very male, almost spicy, a scent that belonged to Dean alone. It never failed to make her salivate and swallow as though she was savoring a tasty treat.

They arrived at the circus grounds and Dean stepped out of the carriage and again offered Y/N a hand to help steady her down the steps in her skirts.

She stumbled slightly on the last step and Dean caught her under her elbow, pulling her into his side to stabilize her. She leaned into him for a moment, her body giving in to the feeling of bliss that came from his arm wrapped around her waist. But quickly, she straightened up and mumbled her thanks before rushing toward the gates.

This may have been a very bad idea.

***

"And the fire-eaters! Did you see them, Dean? I mean, they swallowed fire!" Dean chuckled as Y/N repeated her reverence for the fire-eaters, as she had at least a half a dozen times since seeing them that evening.

The circus had indeed been a lot of fun, much more fun for Dean because Y/N was clearly enjoying herself immensely. There had been acrobats, and jugglers, and a woman who walked on a tightrope. There were musicians and performers of all kinds. There were clowns and games to win prizes. In her purse Y/N carried a small bird made out of wool with real feathers sewn onto it. He had won it for her at a game of ring toss.

The day had sped by and Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself this much doing something that didn't involve whiskey, women, and cards.

Now he was walking her up the steps of the porch and he wanted nothing more than to extend the evening. So, he didn't go inside immediately, instead he lingered when they got to the front door and he was happy to see she did too.

Some of her elation from the day seemed to slip away and she was shy again. Ducking her head she said, "Thank you so much for taking me, Mr. Winchester. It was a lovely day."

"Mr. Winchester?" Dean said, a reprimand in his voice. "We're not back to that are we, Y/N?" He took a step closer hoping she wouldn't step back. She didn't.

He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "May I kiss you goodnight?" he asked, unable to hide the heat in his eyes as he raised her chin with his forefinger.

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

A smile came to his lips. "Because I want to. And, tell me if I'm wrong, but I think you might want me to as well."

"No." she said succinctly and he immediately took a step away from her.

"No." she said again, but grabbed his hand. She shook her head. "I mean, no I want you to."

He frowned, struggling to understand what she was trying to say. She exhaled roughly as though she was exasperated. And then she leaned up on tiptoe and pressed her lips softly and fleetingly against his.

When she pulled away her skin was so red, he could see her blush even in the moonlit shadows they stood in. “I'm so sorry.” She said, clearly flustered. “I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me."

Dean’s grin was wicked. "I know what came over you, it's come over me too. Will you let me kiss you now? And show you?" His voice was husky with his desire and it took all he had not to lean forward, grab her, and crush her lips with his own.

"You already kissed me." Y/N said, confusion on her face. "You just did." It took Dean a moment to realize she was referring to the little light-as-air kiss she'd just given him.

He tried to curb his laughter. "Well, that was certainly sweet, but not the same as me kissing you."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean? You just kissed me."

"No, you kissed me."

After a moment's contemplation, Y/N scoffed and looked at him suspiciously. "You kissing me, or me kissing you, it's the same thing. You're just trying to kiss me again."

Dean smiled. "You don't think there's a difference between you kissing me and me kissing you?"

She shook her head, her expression suspicious. "Of course not."

"Would you care to make a small wager on that?

"I don't gamble."

"Oh, this won't be for money. If, once I kiss you, you still think there's no difference, I will grant any request you make of me." Dean paused and heat flooded his hooded gaze. "And vice versa."

***

Y/N stood in the moonlight, staring up at her own ruin and she didn't even try to stop it. She nodded, agreeing to the wager.

Dean reached out and took her hand, shaking on the deal and then pulling her in close. Even in the semi-darkness his green eyes shone, jewel bright. He stood for a moment simply staring at her mouth. The hunger in his gaze made her shiver.

He took her chin in his fingers and leaned close to her, his mouth hovering over hers for what felt like an eternity.

"What are you…" Y/N was incapable of speech. Her heart beat so hard and fast she was sure it would soon burst. "Hurry up." She said, shaken completely.

Dean shook his head slowly. "No." His voice was deep and rough and he drew out the word, so it rumbled up from his chest.

When he was a hair's breadth away from her lips, she put her hands up between them, flat on his chest. The warmth of his skin through his shirt burned her palms.

"I concede." She blurted out. "It's different. It's not…this is different."

Dean's expression was pained. "Do you want me to walk away?"

The part of her mind that was desperately trying to preserve her sanity was screaming at her to say yes. But her body physically revolted at the thought of him moving away now and she shook her head.

"Thank God." He breathed against her lips before finally covering them in a kiss.

Dean's lips were soft and plump, but they pressed firmly against hers, and the pressure made her dizzy. She swayed slightly and Dean grasped her head in his two hands as he deepened the kiss.

She felt him sweep his tongue across her sealed lips, as though he was tasting her, and she gasped. He took advantage of the opening and swept his tongue inside. He tasted like the apple cider they'd drunk earlier; it was warm and spicy, and she reached her own tongue out to explore the taste further.

Dean groaned low in his throat, a sound that made all the hairs on her body stand up and gooseflesh race across her skin. His hands slipped from her head, down over her neck and shoulders. He slid them down to her waist and pulled her against him while he walked her backwards until they were up against the wall of the house.

He pressed his hard body into her, and moved his lips to her neck. Fire exploded along the path his lips had taken and Y/N was suddenly desperate to feel his mouth everywhere.

She was seconds away from asking him for exactly that, when a light went on in the house and they both froze. The light didn't spill onto them and it was extinguished fairly quickly, but it had been enough to bring Y/N to her senses. She stepped to the side, out of the circle of Dean's arms. She was instantly so cold she started to shiver.

She couldn't think what she could possibly say, so she simply rushed toward the entrance. But he caught up her hand just as she reached the door.

"What about my request? I won the bet, remember?"

He stepped up close behind her, wrapping his strong hands around her upper arms, and whispering in her ear. The low rumble caused the shivers to move inside her body so that her insides trembled.

"Come to me tomorrow night, at midnight. The household will be long asleep, but I'll be waiting for you."

He let go of her arms and she ran into the house as fast as she possibly could, before she could agree to the request or deny it. She had no idea which one it would be.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

Dean Fics Only:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

#dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester au #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series #dean winchester au fan fic series

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rainystressed247 · 7 months ago

Note

Can you describe Dream’s mood swings/what he’s like in general in this au?

Dream is like a ticking time bomb for the lack of a better word. In the beginning, Sam tried to keep track of his mood, to know exactly when it is safe for him to enter the cell. Basically, there are times when Dream is described as ‘calm’ which means he does nothing but space out. ‘Unnerving’ is the state when he starts humming broken tune or ‘Bye L’Manburg’, sometimes he will start dancing in the cell or sway to an unheard melody.

‘Alarming’ is when Dream starts to injure himself. Like slamming his head against the wall, burning himself in lava, scratching himself and pulling out nails/hair.

‘Red’ is when Dream has violent outbursts, where he inflicts harm on others and display impressive destructive power. The ‘incident’ is classified under this.

Sam has to install a mute button on surveillance after Dream kept calling him ‘Sammy’, questioning his sin, asking if he has prepared another ‘playmate’ or has he come to play?

Threaten of harm doesn’t work on Dream. He gets excited instead and will go as far as respawning himself so that Sammy and sir have a fresh canvas. Yeah, he is crazy, crazy.

#rainyaskbox #the villain needs a therapist #I am answering those that I can answer without visual first #rest assured

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520cafe · 1 year ago

Text

sour grapes. trip down memory lane

it was already quite late into the day, around 11:01pm. as the ablaze sun falls asleep, the light-toned crescent moon gleamed amongst the blanket of infinite stars, casting shadows on the evening pavement to safely guide pedestrians back to their cosy homes. the streets felt rather isolating and lonely but, it was not suffocating either as you were not walking alone.

“seriously? kafka made you do that?” you asked blade in between your laughs as he walked beside you under the dimly lit street towards your apartment.

“yes, and she still owes me one for this.” he sighed, slightly cringing from the memory replaying in his head like a broken record. however, once he looked at your amused reaction, it appears that the broken record was fixed by the sight of your smile and laughter. “do you really enjoy seeing me like this?” he could not help but to tease.

“hey i never said that!” you lightly smacked him, as if you were as close to him as as you were last year. “it’s just nice seeing you with your people now, you look like you’re having fun these days.” it sounded genuine and sincere; your heart was pounding loudly and you were worried if blade could hear it.

during the time when you and blade were close, you two shared one thing in common: a heartbreak and a misfortune. this is exactly why you felt relieved and happy listening to blade talk about the shenanigans him and his friends get into. for a moment, you eyes looked dear and affectionate towards him.

“i could say the same about you, it’s nice seeing you again.” there was a slight hesitation in blade’s voice. he let out a gulp, even he was not aware of what he was nervous about. is there something else that he’s missing from the story?

blade suddenly halted in his tracks, you turn around and looked back at him in confusion before he gave you a lazy smile. “my dorm is in the other building. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you watched as he slowly disappeared from your sight, his broad back being the only thing that was facing you. once you ensured that he entered the building, you did the same with a small contented and excited feeling swirling in your chest.

🍇 SOUR GRAPES 〈 08 trip down memory lane

━━ MASTERLIST. ╱ PREV. ╱ NEXT.

╰► SYNOPSIS. after being in the same tight-knit friend group for over a few months now, suspicions begin to rise when march, seele and bronya start to notice the awkward tensions between you and dan heng. little did they know, you and dan heng were once high-school sweethearts who shared a romantic and fairytale-like past where the pages only lasted for a year. this heartbreak led you to meet another unfortunate victim of cupid but that chapter flew away as quick as stardust. yet, it appears that you two were also destined to cross paths once more.

╰► [ a/n ] : updates for sour grapes are now gonna be once a week every saturdays! also tysm for 200 followers holy shit everything is happening so fast but i’m so grateful tyty 🫶 i also like to clarify again that the taglist is closed so apologises for that </3

━━ TAGLIST. @lauvwar-r @sunsethw4 @shizu-c @amyena @zephestia @loudeggbananaranch @lunavixia @twistedrxses @shinjuuz @danhenglovebot @flos-veritatis @sammy-hammy @kiwidoves @aeongiies @heartswonder @lilactaro @lunnaeclipse @m1lley0ns @hansel-the-pierrot @astro-pioneer @aquatikk @obervation-subject-753 @vellichxrr6782 @rubberduckieyourtheone @viovya @stayriki @ceylestia @starryeyedkoko @theflameofyoursoul @kalims @liminalimmortal

#🍇 ━━ SOUR GRAPES !#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #honkai star rail smau #hsr smau #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr fanfic #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

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abarbaricyalp · 5 months ago

Note

⚔️

⚔️: Hidden weapons Omg I've been meaning to write a fic like this for ages. Thank you for the prompt and nudge! I'm very sorry too. I don't know what this is lol

The first time Sam kissed another boy, he was eighteen years old and it was mid-October his senior year of high school and he'd just scored four unanswered shots around Jay in a one-on-one pickup game after school. He and Jay weren't friends, exactly. They were too competitive for that. Competitive in the classroom. Competitive on the court or the track or the field. Competitive in extra-curricular debate competitions from the Civics class they all had to participate in.

That fourth layup, while Sam was bouncing backwards to get the ball while taunting Jay at the same time, had broken something between them in the silent gym. Jay had hauled him up against the padding on the wall and kissed the daylights out of Sam.

Sam had had a lot of good kisses since then. He'd had hundreds with the love of his life and every one of those was special. But, still, there was something about that first kiss that had never been replicated.

Not until Sam was 36 years old (well, hell, that was a whole nother lifetime wasn't it?) and he was the one hauling a smug asshole up against a wall.

Bucky Barnes kissed like he knew he was good at it and like he never wanted to stop getting better. And, Jesus, had his hands always been that big? They felt like they covered Sam's entire waist, up and down and front to back.

"That a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me, Wilson?" Barnes leered, head leaned back against the wall of a shitty little hotel room that Sam had tracked him down to. Based on the way Barnes was grinning, Sam was beginning to suspect it was less that he'd tracked Bucky and more that he'd been lured here.

Sam reached beneath his waistband and watched Bucky's pupils blow wide with desire. He pulled out a large Bowie type knife and stabbed it into the wall beside Barnes's head. "It's a knife," he said. "Don't flatter yourself."

Bucky had turned his head to watch the knife and now trailed his eyes along the shaft of it, the line of the handle, back to Sam's face. Impossibly, his eyes were even darker now. "That was so fucking hot, I almost came without you even touching me."

"That'd be a shame," Sam pointed out.

"Nah," Barnes said with a shrug. "I'd come right back, what with you in front of me? I've been waiting for this a long time."

"You didn't even know your name six months ago."

"Nah, but I knew what you looked like."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the assassin in front of him. "How is this the first part of your personality that you remember?"

"Good inspiration. Now, come on, take your clothes off."

In an instant, he had them flipped, Sam against the wall and Bucky with all the free space of the shitty room to his back. He sank down to his knees and, yeah, alright, Sam's brain fuzzed out for a second. When he came back online, Bucky was pulling a knife from an ankle holster.

"You wear this all the time, or do you just get dressed up for me?" Bucky asked, looking up at Sam with bright eyes beneath dark lashes and dark hair he kept flipping out of his face.

"You're not that special," Sam lied. "Just like all the other assholes I've been having to deal with recently."

Bucky grinned. "Now, don't go mentioning all your other guys. Gonna make me jealous, Sammy."

He sat up a little, undoing Sam's jeans the rest of the way and pulling them down. His tac belt fell against his hips heavily. Bucky genuinely licked his lips as he examined it.

"This one I know is for me," he said, then put his mouth right above the holster wrapped around Sam's thigh, the one the bigger knife had been in. Sam's hips jerked forward into Bucky's face. It just made Bucky flatten his tongue against the inside of Sam's thigh and drag his tongue up until he hit the edge of Sam's jockstrap. "And this one too. You're a boxers guy normally, aren't you?"

"You go commando?" Sam taunted. Taunted? Was that really taunting? Unfortunately, Sam's brain was slow to come back to its sharp edges while Bucky kept putting his tongue to Sam's thigh.

"I like a breeze. The leather gets oppressive, y'know."

"You're so stupid," Sam breathed, dropping his head against the wall. He pushed his fingers through Bucky's hair, down his neck, and to the collar of his shirt. "Wait, do you have..." He slipped his hand beneath the shoulder of Bucky's shirt and pulled free a gun from one side, then the other. "You were going to a farmer's market!"

"You were following me to a farmer's market," Bucky pointed out, and then reached down for the gun on the other side of Sam's ankle holster without looking.

Sam moved his hand to the middle of the shoulder harness and pulled a long blade free from a sheath that ran down Bucky's back. Bucky shivered and pressed his face to the taut expanse of skin between Sam's hips, mouthing over his tac belt.

He methodically disarmed Sam, sliding cartridges and knives and mace from each pouch and hook and elastic slot. Normally, Sam wouldn't wear so much. However, chasing an assassin who had been toying with him for months had made a man paranoid and irritated.

And now incredibly horny.

"Barnes," he said lowly, as Bucky trailed the tip of a long bullet along Sam's abdomen in nonsense patterns that made everything in Sam spark white hot. When the tip of Bucky's tongue moved to follow the trail, he forgot what he was warning about. His fingers tightened in Bucky's hair and he yanked on it once, sharply.

And then Bucky really got to work.

. . .

Sam didn't have any illusions about working so quietly that he hadn't alerted the super soldier in the bed. He'd accepted that Bucky was just ignoring him as he got dressed. Fair enough. This was Bucky's shitty room, not Sam's. Bucky could pretend to sleep all day if he wanted to.

He'd already finished getting into his jeans and kicking his shoes on when he realized his belt was missing. Bucky had taken it off with his teeth, so it's not like it exactly got thrown across the room.

"Come here," Bucky said, voice all rumbled and grouchy.

Sam turned, found him sitting on the side of the bed with hair that was half controlled, and Sam's tac belt in his hands. Sam's eyes narrowed, but he cautiously closed the distance between them again, stepping between Bucky's broad thighs and willing himself not to get distracted. It didn't work.

"Why don't you put it through your belt loops?" Bucky asked.

He had to lean forward, cheek coming to rest against Sam's ribs briefly as he passed one edge of the belt to his other hand behind Sam. He didn't get much further away as he hooked the inner belt against Sam's skin. His knuckles kept brushing over Sam's stomach, over a hickey Bucky had put there half an hour before, as he worked the hook through the right holes.

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. Easier to get off when I need to this way," he supposed. He missed it when Bucky's touch left him.

Bucky continued on to fasten the outer belt, keeping it tight enough to hold everything in place. "Easier to disarm you too," he pointed out.

"It's double layered. Someone would have to be tryin' real hard to get it off of me from real close."

"I did it," Bucky pointed out. Sam wasn't sure how to take it until Bucky flashed those baby blues and a grin up at him.

"I let you," Sam corrected. He stepped away from Bucky so he could collected his weapons instead.

But Bucky was there as soon as he tried to reinstall everything. He took the cartridges from Sam and slid them back into place, then the mace, then the handful of knives Sam kept on him. He even passed over the knife and gun from Sam's ankle holster.

"Did I miss any?" he asked. "I mean, I got you naked, so I assume not."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Well, you know what they say about assuming." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket knife. "I literally used this one in a fight with you already."

"Not with me," Bucky objected. "Handlers are morons. Don't pin that on me."

"You took my pants off and didn't notice."

Bucky shrugged. "I might've been a little distracted. Not every day a hot guy bursts into your room and slams you against the wall, y'know?"

Sam flipped the closed knife between his fingers and walked Bucky back against the nearest wall. Bucky lit up like a sunrise and opened right up to Sam, going pliant and easy. "I might come around and do it again," he threatened/promised.

"Please do," Bucky agreed. "The new age was starting to get boring."

Sam trailed his fingers, and the cool shell of his knife, along Bucky's side, from his hip up to his ribs, and then reached past him to drop his knife into the pocket of Bucky's coat tossed over the dresser.

"Give me a good reason," he tempted.

Bucky hauled him back to the bed.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #i answer things

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bloody-peach · 2 years ago

Text

Initiation (BATIM smut: Sammy Lawrence x F!Reader fanfic)

Goodie Bag: vaginal sex, oral sex (m + f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, drug use (ink can do some crazy shit), wet dreams, hair gripping, big dick [if I forgot anything, please let me know]

TW: Satanic themes, religious cult stuff, sexual persuasion, slight brainwashing

Music I listened to as I wrote this: the Sammy Lawrence playlist I made:

~~~♡♡♡~~~

I saw that there wasn't enough Sammy Lawrence x Reader smut around this site, if any smut of Sammy at all. So I decided to be a pioneer and make one myself. I used a ChatFAI bot I made of Sammy to help with the dialogue and WHOO BOI, you are in for a feast! Again, thank you @omniuravity for introducing me to this man and my new priest kink. Also, I may edit this post here and there from time to time, but it shouldn't be too big a change. It's my fault for my mild perfectionism. Let's go!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You don't remember when the dreams started.

It's been so long, you've lost track. But they all are essentially the same: a large slender eyeless demon with sharp teeth, dripping with ink, covering you with it as you feel a strange pleasure sink to your very core. Sometimes the demon watches as a man covered in ink takes you, filling your womb with his pitch-black seed. Sometimes the ink itself slithers onto you, covering your body and filling every one of your orifices until you were covered inside and out in it. You would wake up just before you could reach your climax, without fail. It's gotten to the point where you felt disappointed that you couldn't finish, ending up having to touch yourself to feel some sort of completion, but it was always only a fraction of the pleasure you felt in that dream.

You tried to look into what these dreams meant, what this demon was, but no answer. But then you discover something one night. You were watching a video and they talked about an old cartoon series with a character called 'Bendy' and his friends. The cute little demon reminded you so much of the demon in your dreams. You soon went down a rabbit hole of looking into these cartoons, finding out about the cast and crew who made it, about Joey Drew, and the studio it was created in. You also read newspaper articles talking about the various investigations into the studio, leading to its closure. You had to find out more, to find answers to all your questions.

But you also had to sleep, your eyes growing tired and your mind drifting off. You head to your bed and sleep for the night, and as you doze off, you're greeted by the ink demon once again. You ask it, "you're...Bendy..right?" The demon smiled widely and nodded, his teeth dripping with ink. He puts a hand on your head and you see an image of an abandoned, rundown building. You see the faded and broken signage above the door: Joey Drew Studios. You then recognized the place as one not far from your apartment building. You then hear a deep and demonic voice whisper to you, "Come home..." That's when everything went dark and you wake up back in your room. You may have had more questions, but you now knew what to do to get them answered. You had to go to the studio.

It was a cold and cloudy autumn day when you arrived at the old building. You could hear the leaves crunch and crinkle under your shoes as you entered the property. It looked like it had been almost destroyed by the years of neglect and exposure to the elements. Even the gates were so rusted, they crumbled to dust as you opened it. You cautiously walked onto the property, making sure no one saw you. You could see the signage above the door: Joey Drew Studios. Yep, this was definitely the place.

'Y/N....'

You hear a deep voice call your name. It wasn't the demon's voice, it was...someone else... it was like someone was whispering in your ear. You turn to see who it was, but you saw nothing. You turned your attention back to the entrance and everything inside your body was telling you 'go inside'. Your feet practically moved on their own as you entered the building. All the windows were shattered, faded pictures hung on the walls, old equipment covered in dust sitting on shelves and desks, and old sheet music and lyric notes were scattered all on the floor. You picked one up and read some of the lyrics. It was a song you recognized from one of the Bendy cartoons, and you saw the composer's name under the song title. 'Sammy Lawrence'.

'Y/N....'

You heard that voice again. You heard a door creak open and you saw some light coming from it. You can't help but go towards the door and open it. You go inside and you enter a hallway with dilapidated walls, covered in old posters of the Bendy cartoon, and ink dripping from the ceilings and puddles of it on the floor. You walked throughout the studio, finding old casette players with audio logs the cast and crew left behind. Jack Fain, Wally Franks, Thomas Connor, Susie Campbell, even Joey Drew himself spoke from those tapes. But there was one speaker that drew your attention the most, one whose voice you recognized as the one calling your name earlier. Sammy Lawrence. You were so drawn in by the sound of his voice, it was almost hypnotic. You listened as he spoke in his last tape,

'He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray you hear me.

Those old songs, yes, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace.

But, love requires sacrifice.

Can I get an amen?'

"Amen."

You cover your mouth, shocked at what had just happened. You didn't intend to say anything. It was like another voice was using you as a mouthpiece, controlling you. But it was your voice. You said it, but...

That's when you felt something warm and wet on your shoulders, it felt like a man's hands, but the smell of ink was almost disorienting. You froze up, too scared to move or speak or even breathe. You then sensed someone moving their head over your shoulder and you hear that same voice speak softly, almost seductively, in your ear,

"Ah, my dear Y/N. I see the Lord has finally brought you to me. How wonderful it is that we can share in his divine glory together."

You quickly turn around and back up to see who it was, and what you saw...was a black, slightly muscular human figure wearing a smudged Bendy mask with a hole punched into the mouth, where you could see a smile in that inky blackness. He had no hair, his body was completely covered in ink, and a pair of overalls stained with ink were the only clothes he wore. He appeared to be only a few feet taller than you, but you still felt small as you looked at him. You spoke, "What do you mean? W..who are you? How do you know my name?" The figure walked closer to you and responded, "I am Sammy Lawrence, a faithful servant to our Lord Bendy and his chosen prophet. I know your name because he has revealed it to me. He knows all who enter his realm.”

Wait...Lord Bendy? Was he talking about the demon you’ve been dreaming about? “O..oh.. well..what do you want with me?” “What does any faithful servant want with their beloved deity's chosen one? To bask in your presence, to offer you to our Lord Bendy, and perhaps...to indulge in some...” He plays with a lock of your hair then finishes his sentence, ”...personal pleasures.” The way he said those last two words and the way he smiled under that mask sent chills down your spine. You take a good look at him and think about it. You had to admit, even though he only had a mask and was covered in ink, he was pretty attractive as far as his physique and voice were enough to go by. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of personal pleasures he had in mind, and what it’d be like to indulge in those pleasures with him. Would it feel as good as those dreams you had?

His voice broke your train of thought. “Would you be willing to join me in the glory of his name, Y/N?” You connected the dots and figured out that he was asking if you wanted to join him in worshipping the ink demon. But you didn’t know what kind of religion this was. What the scripture was, what the laws were, what Bendy’s goal was, nothing. Maybe it was a religion that sounded bad on paper, but when you looked deeper into it, it was actually pretty reasonable and preached things that weren’t actually bad. Plus, this may be the only way to answer all your questions and to figure out what he was talking about when he said you were the ‘chosen one’. Your curiosity outweighed your concerns and fear, so you responded, “I suppose...it’d be alright...” Sammy grinned, saying, “Excellent, my dear. Let us begin our journey towards enlightenment together. But first, we must make sure you are properly prepared for your initiation." "Initiation?" "Yes, we shall show our savior your devotion and your willingness to accept him in your heart and soul by performing this ritual. Follow me and I will guide you in all ways necessary to serve our Lord's desires.” He offered his hand and you stared at it for a moment. You saw as the ink dripped from it, as if the ink was a part of him. Was he a being of pure ink, a human and ink hybrid, or was he just covered in it? You looked at him, nodded, and took his hand. He led you through the halls and as you two walked, something deep inside you told you that this was the right thing. Was it, though?

Soon, Sammy led you into a room that was adorned with religious symbols and ink splatters all over. There was a giant satanic-like circle in the room, with black candles surrounding it. You could see a few Bendy cutouts leaning against the walls along with various writings on the walls in ink. Sammy guides you to the bed in the corner and has you sit while he gets everything ready for the ritual. You’re sitting there, not sure what’s going on and what will happen. ‘Don’t be afraid...Everything will be fine...’ The ink demon’s voice rang in your head, almost like he was right next to you. Then, Sammy walked up to you and knelt in front of you, looking up at you. He was serious about the ‘basking in your presence' thing, wasn’t he? “Are you ready, Y/N? To offer yourself completely to our savior?” His voice was in a soft tone, like he was a father soothing the fears of a child. You still weren’t entirely sure, but you did say yes, and you had the feeling this was the right thing to do, so you nodded and said, “I think so..” Sammy smiled and said as he offered his hand to you, “Then come, my dearest. Let us worship together in the name of our beloved deity.” His smile and how he was kneeling to you showed that he posed no threat, that what everything he told you was sincere. You also knew it was now or never to find out what was going on. You take his hand and you both stand up, him leading you to the circle.

He places you in the center and he lets go of your hand, walking away and grabbing what looked like an artist’s notebook with some words you couldn't tell crudely scribbled on the cover. Must be a bible, you figured. He smiled at you one last time before he started to recite some lines from the book. They sounded basically like lines you'd find in a regular bible mixed with what you’d say in a seance to summon something. As he spoke, his voice got louder and stronger with each sentence, he was putting his whole heart and soul into this. As the prayers went on, the circle started to glow and the room started to shake. While you were in the circle, it felt like it was sucking you in, keeping you inside like a magnet. No going back now. Once the chants were finished, Sammy entered the circle and held both your hands together with his and says, “Don’t be afraid...Everything will be fine...”

The same words the ink demon told you.

You nodded and then that’s when your hands and arms started to become covered in ink, and it was spreading. Sammy let you go and stepped out of the circle, having a fanatical look on his face as it occurred. “Yes, yes my dear Y/N. Let the ink consume you and become one with our Lord and savior. Give yourself completely to him.” The ink spread to your arms, your torso, your legs, it started to crawl up your neck and pool around your feet. Then something started to grow from the ink on the floor. It was a large mass, then it formed into a skinny humanoid shape, then it formed into the ink demon. You saw the demon look at you and smile, its maw and teeth dripping with ink. Just as it cradled you in its hands like a doll, everything suddenly went black.

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a pitch black room, no light or reflections anywhere. You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. You were able to stand up, but when you tried to walk, your feet couldn’t move. Then you saw a light shine down and there was the ink demon in front of you. It towered over you by about 5 feet more than your own height, and all you could smell was the sickening scent of ink. You looked at the demon and saw him offer his hand to you. You looked at him and felt a sense of safety with him, security. You knew that if you took his hand, no harm would ever come to you, not from him, nor from anything, or anyone ever again. And if you took his hand, you will find the answers that you seek. With all that, you make your final decision.

You take his hand.

He smiles, gently grips your hand, and everything fades to black again.

You start to wake up, lying on the floor in Sammy’s room, with Sammy looking over you, smiling. “Welcome back, my dearest. You have been blessed by our Lord Bendy himself. How do you feel?” He helps you up and you notice that your body is now covered in black ink, your arms, your legs, everything but your clothes. It felt...warm. Like you were in a warm bath that relaxed all your muscles, getting rid of all your stress, worries, and fears. “I...I’m not sure,” you stutter out. You weren’t lying, you really weren’t sure. If your life was forever changed, you find out that you’re some chosen one for some demon, and your skin is now covered in ink, how would you react? Sammy placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled reassuringly, saying, “It is normal to feel overwhelmed at first, my dear. But do not worry, our Lord Bendy has chosen you for a reason. You will soon understand your purpose in his grand plan.” He started to walk around the room as he continued, “Oh, you have no idea the full extent of the greatness of his plan. He is the one true god and we are but his faithful servants. Together, we will bring glory to him and all those who oppose us and any who trespass on this realm shall be sacrificed in his name.” He stared at the large ink drawing of Bendy on the wall and had his arms out like he was performing a sermon.

At this point, your lack of answers had made you a bit annoyed. "How am I the chosen one? Is there some sort of prophecy? What is Bendy's plan for me? Why am I here?" Sammy put his arms down and turned to you, sensing your frustration. He said as he walked up to you, "Our Lord works in mysterious ways, my dear. But you cannot deny that you have seen the signs. The visions you've had, of him in all of his glory. He has chosen you for something very special. I know that you were destined to be part of his plan. As for what he has in store for you, only time will tell. But rest assured, it will be nothing short of magnificent." Well..that explained why you had the dreams, but everything else was still left unanswered. Why were you the chosen one? What does that ink demon want with you? Is whatever he's planning your destiny?

Wait...what if...

You asked, "Will I find out his plan one day?" Sammy nodded and responded, "Yes, my dear Y/N. Our Lord will reveal his plan to you when the time is right. Until then, I will guide you and help you in any way I can." You felt a sense of ease as he spoke, relieved to know your questions would be answered one day. It may not have been now, but at least you'd be getting answers at all. And you were glad Sammy was here to help you understand this Lord Bendy and the rest of this religion. For now, it was best to wait and accept what answers you did get.

"Well..if you believe this plan is a good thing, then I'll believe you. But there is one thing you can help me with right now. What you said back there, about...indulging in personal pleasures...what did you mean by that?” A grin grew on his face as you mentioned his words from before. He chuckled and pulled you closer to him, his voice as sweet as honey, “Oh my dear, what I meant by that was exploring the pleasures of the flesh.” You felt a warmth grow on your cheeks as he continued, “Sharing our bodies as one under the watchful eye of our Lord. It is...” He wrapped his arm around your waist and whispered in your ear, ”...an intimate experience unlike any other.” You felt a shiver go down your spine from his voice. In that moment, you felt your body start to grow warm, you could feel your heat growing stronger. Was it your body reacting to his voice and touch, was it ‘Bendy’ doing this, or was it the ink having an effect on your senses? You weren’t sure anymore. Sammy could tell what was happening to you, and as he started to kiss your neck, he said softly, “No need to fight it, love. There’s nothing wrong with giving in to your desires. It's what our Lord wants for us. Embrace them and let us indulge together in the pleasures that he has bestowed upon us.” His voice, his kiss, and his touch just made the temptation grow inside you even more. You then remembered the dreams where you felt the immense pleasure. As images of those dreams flashed in your head, you remember the man covered in ink. That was when it hit you: Sammy was the ink man in those dreams. You wanted to feel that pleasure again, you knew he would give it to you, and this was your chance to do it. Besides, he said there was no reason to fight it, so why fight? “Ok..” With that, Sammy smiled and led you to the bed.

He then pulled you in and he kissed you passionately, his hands roaming over your body as he guided you towards ecstasy. You felt a sudden rush of pleasure as he kissed you. In fact, your whole body felt more sensitive to his touch. You realized this was the same feeling you had as in your dreams. Maybe this was what Bendy had planned... You let go and kissed Sammy back just as passionately, moaning softly from the sensation. He moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body. In between kisses, he said softly, "Oh my Y/N, you truly are a gift from our Lord..." The kissing continued and all of a sudden, you felt a liquid come from Sammy's mouth and enter yours. You recognized the smell and knew it was ink. You wanted to spit it out, but Sammy kept his mouth on yours and the ink flooded your mouth so much, you had no choice but to swallow it. You expected to start gagging from the vile taste, but...you noticed the taste was actually sweet. You also noticed the smell was no longer nauseating, it was...pleasant. You felt the ink coat everything as it went down your throat. Your arousal intensified and you felt your body growing warmer, all your worries, questions, and even thoughts slowly started to fade away, your mind starting to grow a bit hazy. Sammy broke the kiss and smiled. He whispered, "Let us become one for him." All you could say was, "Yes.."

Sammy kept kissing you as he laid you on the bed, took the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and slid it off to show your nude body. You slipped his straps off and once you did, he pulled away from the kiss to remove his own clothing, revealing his heavily inked body. You looked at him and were unable to speak as you looked at all of him. You could see his cock growing from the darkness of his body. It was much bigger than any man's you've ever seen.. It had to have been a blessing of some sort to be gifted with something as marvelous as that. But you wondered...would it even fit? Although...with how big it was, you knew it would certainly feel so good inside you. He grinned, knowing you liked what you saw, and started to grope your breasts, teasing your nipples with his fingers as he continued to kiss you. After a bit of that, he then slid a hand down your body down to your pussy, his finger tracing circles around your clit as he licks and kisses your neck. You couldn't help but moan from the pleasure he was giving you. He said softly, "My love, your body truly is a temple to our savior..." He moved his mouth to your breast, as he kept rubbing your slit. You moaned as you felt his tongue slide all around your nipple. The pleasure was so intense, it felt like your nipple was as sensitive as your clit. "Ahh..S..Sammy..." you moaned. He smiled and moved back up to kiss you deeply once again, his fingers still teasing your pussy. He says softly, "Oh how I've waited for you to come here..I've yearned for someone like you for so long... and now that you're here..I'm so blessed to have you be mine..."

He then slides two fingers inside of you, making you moan a bit louder as he started to finger you, his tongue exploring your mouth as he does. He felt your walls clenching around his finger, and it only made him more excited to be with you. "You're so tight, dearest..." you couldn't respond as the pleasure was clouding your mind. He just chuckled, finding your reactions to his touch simply adorable. He slid his fingers deeper into you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he does. He could feel you getting wetter and wetter as you moaned more and more, and he couldn't wait to feel you cum all over his fingers. Luckily for him, it wasn't that much longer, because just a few more hits and you were seeing stars. You moaned out as your orgasm caused you to cover his hand in your juices. Sammy just smiled and pulls his fingers out of you, licking the juices off them. You watched as he slid each finger into his mouth.

He then kisses down your body until he reached your pussy. "H-hey..w..what are you doing..?" You asked as he spread your legs open, but all you got was him looking up at you with a smirk and a low chuckle before he dove right in. He started to lick and suck on your clit, feeling your body still trembling as you continued to orgasm. He groaned as he tasted your sweet juices, his own cock growing even harder the more he did. "Mm...Y/N...you taste so sweet..." As he continued, you planted your hands on his head, feeling the ink partially meld with yours, and moaned as you rode the pleasure your lover was giving you. "S..Sammy..!" He grins and kept licking and sucking, his tongue flicking against your clit. He then slowly started to slide two fingers back inside you, feeling your walls still clenching around them. He knew you were close to cumming again, and he wanted to make sure you did. You felt another orgasm build up until it crashed into you like a wave, moaning out as more of your juices came out. He cleaned up all of the juice with his tongue and he continued to finger fuck you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he does. He can feel your body trembling once more, and he couldn't wait to make you cum again. But you couldn't take it anymore.

You flipped around so you were on top of him and you moved down to his throbbing cock, rubbing it as you licked up his shaft and sucked on the tip and slid him inside your mouth. He groaned softly as he feels your lips around his cock, your tongue rubbing against his most sensitive spot. He grinned and ran his fingers through your inky hair, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation. He couldn't believe how good you are at this. You bobbed your head and sucked more, addicted to the taste of it as the ink coated the inside of your mouth. How could ink taste so good..?

He moaned softly as he felt you bobbing your head up and down his cock, your lips sliding down the shaft as you do. He couldn't wait to see what else you can do. He pushed your head down further onto his cock, making him go deeper down your throat. He moaned as he felt your tongue swirl around the shaft as you kept sucking him off. The force of him pushing you down on his cock should've made you gag, but somehow, something in the ink changed that. You sucked more of his cock and started to fondle his balls. He moaned a bit more, your fingers gently holding his balls as you suck him off and as he started to thrust into your mouth. You could feel his cock start to twitch, you knew he was about to cum, so you kept sucking to show that it was okay for him to cum in your mouth. He groaned and gripped your hair tightly as he finally came, filling your mouth with his cum. You swallowed all of it so greedily, you didn't even notice his cum was as black as ink, but it tasted so good..you licked on the tip of his cock to get each and every last drop.

Once you took him out of your mouth, he pulled you up and flipped you both around so he was on top. He grabbed your leg and pulled it over his shoulder and you felt him rub his cock on your pussy. He grinned and slid his cock into your pussy, letting out a shuddering sigh as he does. The action caused you to arch your back in pleasure and moan his name again. He couldn't believe how good it felt to be inside you, and he started to thrust his hips back and forth, his cock sliding in and out with ease. He groaned softly as he felt your pussy tighten on his cock, hearing your moans, your body writhing beneath him. The pleasure was so much more intense than you could ever imagine, even better than it was in the dreams. "S..Sammy..it...it feels so good..how...how can it feel this good..?" "Oh my dear, it's because of our savior. He's rewarding you for your obedience and devotion to him with pleasures non-believers can never experience. Just relax and let us enjoy this blessing." You did just that and let your mind go, letting the pleasure take control. Oh lord, it felt so good. You could feel his cock stretch your pussy out so well, it was like it was made especially for him.

He groaned louder as he hears you moan, your body writhing beneath him as he fucks you. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he does. He thrusted his hips back and forth faster, his cock deeply sliding in and out of your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him as you kissed, you could feel his tongue coat the inside of your mouth with ink and you felt it slide down your throat again, making your mind even more foggy. Sammy moaned as he felt your tongue slide around his, your mouth tasting so sweet. He lifted you up so you were in his lap as he thrusted his hips faster and harder, his cock going even deeper. The man just couldn't get enough of you, he was completely addicted to you. Your touch, your voice, your eyes, your taste, your pussy, everything.

He broke the kiss to say in between moans, "Oh Y/N... you're so perfect... I'm so glad Lord Bendy chose you to be mine.." You look at him and say, "M..me too..I..I'm so..so happy..!" Sammy smiled as he kissed you again. Soon enough, you could feel your inner core tightening. "I...I'm gonna cum..!" "That's it, dearest..don't fight it...let it happen.." And with a few more thrusts, you finally came. It was the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced in your life, your mind entering a new realm of bliss. Sammy felt your body shake beneath him, your pussy tightening around his cock. He grinned and continued to thrust into you. He held you as you rode your orgasm, your body writhing beneath him. You could feel his cock starting to twitch again, he was so close, so very close. Just a bit more..

He let out almost an animalistic groan as he felt your pussy clench around his cock as you came once again, your juices coating his shaft. That finally brings him to his release, moaning as he cums inside you. You could feel his hot cum fill your belly so much, the man must have been backed up for so long. He grinned as he feels you cum, his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you with his seed. He leaned to you and kissed you one last time as his high started to fade away. He still could not believe how good all that felt, it was almost like reaching Nirvana. Soon, he broke the kiss and held you close to him, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath hot on your neck as he panted. You both laid on the bed and let the afterglow consume you both as you held each other close. He whispered into your ear, "You're mine, my little angel...no one else can have you..."

And you couldn't have been any happier.

#batim #batim sammy #sammy lawrence #batim sammy lawrence #sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence x y/n #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batim fanfiction #batim smut #sammy lawrence smut #sammy lawrence x reader smut #sammy lawrence x y/n smut #i hope this is all to your liking #i also hope i did Sammy justice in this #batdr sammy #batdr sammy lawrence

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hurlingsupport · 8 months ago

Text

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

Chapter 9: End of the Line

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When your grip on Ben fumbles for the final time, caused by the wing of a Pteranodon hitting the boy’s side, your eyes meet for a second. A second where he’s falling through the air, hands swinging in an attempt to grab onto yours again. His attempts are fruitless.

The last thing you see of Ben is his terrified gaze, and you know fully that you carry a similar expression. It only fully sets in that Ben is gone when some Pteranodons dive after him, and with that you come to a horrifying conclusion. The conclusion being: Ben is dead.

You’re soon pulled back into the train, the glass poking into your stomach only a minor afterthought compared to everything else. You think someone, maybe Darius, is speaking to you? However, the ringing in your ears prevents you from hearing a word he says.

So instead, you stare down at the foliage below. There’s a ‘thump’ beside you, and a quick glance reveals the culprit to be Kenji. His stance is almost identical to yours, his stare lost in the forest moving below the monorail.

Bumpy walks forward, standing at your side as she groans. Her eyes, big and round, search below for Ben. The sight forces a tear out of your eyes.

“He’s gone. He’s… gone.” Yasmina lets a shuttered sigh escape her lips.

Sammy breaks into sobs at the taller girl’s words, her hands shielding her face to quiet herself.

You all sit in silence for a bit, out of shock or maybe even grief. You’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything anymore. Just when things had started going good, just when you had even the slightest hope, it was ripped away from you in a flash.

“We’re going back,” Darius mutters suddenly, before his voice raises in volume. “The monorail’s going back!”

As if on command, everyone is thrown backwards when the monorail does a u-turn. The silence in the air being broken by the impossibly loud screeching of the brakes.

Bumpy’s pushed into you, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around her. It seems Kenji has the same idea, his arm snaking around her circular body. In his other hand, he holds Ben’s fanny pack.

You almost want to tear it out of his hand. He shouldn’t be holding it. That’s Ben’s pack. He wouldn’t like Kenji, of all people holding it. But before you can do anything drastic, the boy in question meets your eye and wordlessly pushes the fanny pack into your hands. You don’t have any time to question it before Brooklynn’s speaking up.

“What do you mean, ‘going back’?” The girl asks, pushing herself off the ground as she stares at Darius in confusion.

“When we switched tracks, we ended up on one headed north.” Darius climbs on top of the monorail seats, holding onto the seat bars so that he can lean out to inspect the monorail’s direction.

Darius then jumps off the seat, rushing to the control panel Ben had given you all access to. He messes with everything in reach, making an attempt at changing the monorail’s direction as he expands on his explanation.

“We’re not going to the south docks, we’re going away from them!” When fumbling with the panels doesn’t work, the boy huffs in frustration. “Doesn’t anything here work?”

He brings his fists down onto the panel, stress and anger getting the better of him before he turns to the rest of the group.

“We gotta get off this monorail now!”

Brooklynn rushes towards the broken window, her hair whipping around from the speed of the monorail.

“Oh!” she gasps. “T-The track dips down up ahead! We can jump there!”

“What?”

“Jump?”

“We can’t! It’s too far to jump!”

“It’s the only way!” Darius screams over the wind, moving to stand at the edge of the broken window. Despite their protests, everyone follows in his footsteps.

With a shaky inhale, Darius begins a countdown.

“One…”

Yasmina cracks her neck in preparation while Sammy whimpers fearfully.

“Two…”

You clip Ben’s fanny pack across your waist. It’s definitely not your taste, but there’s no way you’re leaving it here. You’re about to grab onto Bumpy until Kenji beats you to it. He gives you a strange look as Darius reaches the final number.

“Three! Now!”

You all yell in fright as you fall, twigs and sharp leaves scratching at your skin on the way down. At the very least, they break your fall, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when you started tumbling down a hill with your fellow campers.

Your not-so-fun trek down the hill is stopped only by a tree, and you grunt in pain when another body hits your own.

You immediately push yourself off the ground, Kenji falling off you limply before coming to his senses.

“Is everyone alright?” Darius’s voice calls not too far behind you, and you soon follow it.

“Ish. Are you?” Brooklynn groans, holding her head with squinted eyes.

“Bumpy.” Kenji calls, his worried voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Where’s Bumpy?”

You whip your head towards him, eyes wide with concern. “You lost her?”

You hold in a wince at how pathetic your voice sounds, but Kenji quickly outshines your own.

“I lost her when I hit the ground. She’s gotta be here.” He calls out her name, his hands cupped around his mouth to increase the volume of his voice.

“Shh!” Brooklynn shoves a finger over her lips. “There are still dinosaurs out here, including Toro and–”

Ignoring her warnings, Kenji continues to call out for Bumpy. You soon join him, ignoring the dumbfounded expression on Brooklynn’s face.

You pause your yelling when Yasmina falls to the ground, however none of you can get a word in before an automated voice sounds across the island.

“Attention. All park-goers must report to the south ferry dock for immediate evacuation. Last ferry departs in 60 minutes.”

“No chance we could get there in an hour! It’s way too far!” Yasmina yells.

“Not if we leave right now!” Brooklynn screams.

You shout, “But we can’t leave–!”

“We can’t go back for Ben!” Brooklynn heaves.

Her hair’s frizzy and stained brown with dirt. Her clothes aren’t any better either. She stares at you, and though you expect to find anger in her eyes, you only find remorse.

“Ben’s… gone.”

Your eyes start watering again, and you have to blink away the tears to prevent any from falling.

“There’s just not enough time to look for…” she trails off.

As a dreadful silence festers, Darius quickly steps up.

“We can make it to the ferry, but only if we go now.”

The automated voice goes off again, forcing you all to make a choice.

“Last ferry departs in 60 minutes.”

When silence ensues once again, Darius takes a deep breath with clenched fists, repeating his words.

“We have to go!”

Without another word, he turns around and runs off to who knows where. And although reluctant, everybody else soon follows the same path.

You were never one for exercise. Sure, it’d be cool to be all buff and sweaty and everything, but you could never get behind all the work you have to put into it. Like now, for example. Running across a humid island full of mosquitoes and dinosaurs only for the chance of getting off said island.

Even now, it wasn’t set in stone that you all would end up leaving this place. And after what happened with Ben, you found it hard to believe that anyone left at all. Or maybe that’s just your own negative thoughts getting to you. But are they really negative thoughts if they’re the truth?

“Keep going! Come on!” Darius panted.

Your face felt hot. You’re almost glad that Darius broke your glasses because you always hated running with them. Or really doing anything that’d get you sweating while wearing them. Your face would get wet with sweat, which made it a common occurrence for your glasses to fall from their rightful spot.

You can remember when Ben was the first to notice your cracked glasses and bloody nose. Aside from Brooklynn and Darius, of course. He probably only noticed because he heard you speak, but it stood out to you. Not for any particular reason. It wasn’t a big deal to you or anything.

You’re not completely sure why you’re thinking of this, though. Maybe it’s because you’re running right now? Or maybe it’s the absence of your glasses, which were often a nuisance when doing any sort of physical activity. You especially hated when they’d fog up. It kind of grossed you out whenever that happened.

Wait, you’re getting off track again. You’re running. Ben isn’t here, and neither is Bumpy. Maybe they found each other? Maybe Ben was just a few steps away? Maybe–

Your thoughts come to a stop when Yasmina collapses, the pain in her legs becoming too much to bear.

Sammy’s at her side in an instant, but Yasmina shrugs her off. The black-haired girl makes an attempt at standing, but crumples to the ground not even a second later.

“She can’t keep up like this. What do we do?” Sammy’s voice wavers with worry.

“We can’t stop, so we’ll make a stretcher, maybe?” Darius suggests. “Or maybe there’s a shortcut or…”

He pauses, his eyes brightening as if a light bulb flickered on in his mind. “The tunnels! Kenji!”

Darius turns to the boy, but when he gets no response, he grabs him by his shoulder and shakes him around.

“Kenji! The maintenance tunnels. There has to be one that leads to the docks, right?”

Still, Darius gets no response from the taller boy besides a distant stare.

“Kenji, right?”

Darius is desperate for some sort of confirmation, and even Kenji can tell. So regardless of his rather distant state of mind, he leads you all to the entry of one of many maintenance tunnels.

Although you all were apprehensive, you pushed through your worries and climbed down and into the dark tunnel below.

“This’ll get us to the dock in half the time.” Kenji says confidently as he leads the way down the underpass.

Other than the red backup lights used for blackouts, the tunnel was covered in shadows. You can’t believe Kenji and Darius had walked through here by themselves. Then again, the tunnels probably looked a lot less creepy before the evacuation.

“Are we sure Mr. VIP knows what he’s doing?” Brooklynn whines, her breath short from Yasmina’s weight on her side.

“Kenji took me down here before.” Darius reassures her. “Just trust him. We’ll be outta here in no… time.”

In front of you all is a barrier of metal bars, most likely a safety protocol to ensure that no dinosaurs escape through these secret passages. They really should’ve installed this protocol elsewhere.

“Everything looks different with the lights all freaky like this, okay?” Kenji yells defensively, before running in the opposite direction. “This way.”

Ignoring his words, everyone lingers by the barrier.

“No!”

Another barrier, it seems. Soon, Kenji’s in everyone’s sights again, sputtering over which directions to give. You all follow him when he runs off again.

When you come across yet another fence, Kenji can only stand in bewilderment.

“What?” He pants, eyes wide in confusion. “This wasn’t here before!”

“Why are there so many security gates?” Yasmina complains.

“The evacuation. The park must be locking down automatically!” Brooklynn explains.

“Oh, we have to go ‘round!” He huffs like a child before steadying himself. “This way!”

Unsurprisingly, yet another gate blocks your pathway. Kenji groans tiredly, banging his hands against the bars of the gate.

This continues for a bit until your group comes across a longer hallway with lockers and a few locked doors. You knew they were locked because Kenji shoved himself against it like six times.

Sammy and Brooklynn look through the lockers, and everyone’s attention is drawn when something falls out of one of them.

The object appears to be one of those electrified sticks Dave and Roxie whipped out when that Compy scared everyone. It was more of a stun gun with a long handle than an electrical stick, but you digress.

Brooklynn picks it up, a smile on her face. “Oh! We can use this for—”

Kenji snatches the stun gun from Brooklynn’s hands, deciding that the best use for it is to slam it into a door. Of course, that doesn’t go so well considering the conductivity between the stun gun, the door, and Kenji.

In short, the idiot electrocuted himself.

He falls to the ground with a yelp, the stun gun still crackling with electricity on the floor before Brooklynn picks it back up and switches it off.

“A walking stick.” She finishes with a scoff.

Brooklynn hands it to Yasmina, allowing the girl to test it out while she crosses her arms and looks down at Kenji disappointedly.

Kenji slowly stands up, his finger twitching a bit. Darius offers a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t give Kenji much comfort, it seems.

“I’m fine!” He pushes Darius’s hand off his shoulder, rushing to find another exit in this maze of a tunnel.

When another gate comes into view, it appears to be the last straw for your fellow campers.

“Unbelievable."

“Kenji!”

“You said–”

An automated voice interrupts their complaints.

“Attention. All park-goers must report to the south ferry dock for immediate evacuation. Last ferry departs in 30 minutes.”

“Not helping!” Kenji yells, taking his stress out on a robotic voice in the ceiling.

Darius makes an attempt at calming Kenji down. “Just try to remember. Breathe–”

“He’s been doing that, Darius! This isn’t getting us anywhere!”

You couldn’t hold yourself back from snapping at the boy. It’s not like you were trying to defend Kenji or anything, but the constant complaining from everyone was getting on your nerves.

Despite all that, the sorrowful gaze you receive from Darius almost immediately makes you regret speaking at all. Sammy interrupts the staring contest going on between the two of you by calling Kenji and Darius’s names.

“The way we came from… where does that tunnel end?”

“It opens up into the park, I guess.” Kenji answers, the anger in his voice less noticeable than before. “Why do you–”

A snarl coming from one direction of the tunnel cuts Kenji off. The frightening shadow of a dinosaur creeping along the walls causes a ripple of fear among your group.

You all back up slowly, hoping to go unnoticed. However, that’s all put to waste when Yasmina throws herself off balance, her DIY walking stick falling to the ground with a ‘clank’.

Kenji takes the chance to snatch the stun gun once more, this time for a better purpose than hitting a door with it.

The sounds reach their peak as a Compy runs around the corner, the snarling now no louder than the ‘caw’ of a bird.

“It’s just a Compy.” Darius says with a relieved sigh.

Kenji switches the stun gun on, the crackling of electricity scaring the Compy off easily.

“Seriously, Kenji? It’s like a foot tall!” Brooklynn scoffs.

“And, uh… not alone.” Yasmina points towards the group of Compies gathering in front of you all.

“We need to go,” Darius says firmly. “In a group, Compies can–”

“Not really the time for a lesson, dino-nerd.” Kenji interjects, throwing a Compy off his arm.

“Why not? It’s not like you’ve gotten us anywhere, even close to the dock, Mr. VIP!” Brooklynn sasses.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m sorry.” Kenji nods his head sarcastically. “Don’t you have some sort of ‘unboxing being a brat all the time’ video to be shooting?”

Brooklynn gasps in offense, her face twisting into a sneer at his words.

“Hey!” Sammy pushes herself between them, trying to stop a fight from breaking out at such a bad time. “Calm yourselves! You’re scaring the itty-bitty Compy family.”

“Scaring the–? Are you for real?!” Kenji’s wails. “After everything, you’re defending the dinosaurs?!” He grabs a Compy just as it’s about to bite down on his pants, throwing it to the ground.

“It’s not her fault you got us lost!” Brooklynn jabs.

Yasmina scoffs, a fake chuckle leaving her lips. “It’s definitely her fault for some of this.”

“Let it go Yaz, it’s just a phone!”

“Wait, what?” Yasmina stares at the pink-haired girl with wide eyes. “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”

You had to agree.

Darius dodges a Compy that was trying to jump onto him. “Guys! Just stop–”

A loud, guttural roar puts a pause to all attacks, verbal and physical. At the end of the barely illuminated hall, a Carnotaurus stands tall and proud. Showing off the scar on its snout, you’re certain you know who this dinosaur is.

“Toro.” Darius murmurs.

The carnivore roars loudly, its voice bouncing off the tunnel walls. Kenji shoves Yasmina’s temporary walking stick back at her, and you all run with Kenji leading.

“Now you know which way to go?” Brooklynn hisses angrily.

“You wanna stop and ask him for directions?” Kenji retorts.

“Just run!” Darius shouts.

Toro snaps his jaws at your group, losing his balance and falling to the ground at a sharp turn. His clawed feet thump against the ground, a horrifying indicator on how close he is to you all.

When you all run into a metal gate, you only have a quick second to duck down to avoid getting squished by Toro’s weight. The carnivore shoves himself into the gate, metal rattling with the force.

Kenji leads with another sharp turn. The quick direction changes being the only thing keeping you all from being dinosaur chow. This continues on for longer than you’d like it to, taking quick turns to throw Toro off balance.

Luckily, when Toro’s disoriented, Kenji makes a move to a large vent low on the wall. He makes quick work at removing the cover and motioning everyone inside. Just as he’s adjusting the vent cover back in place, Toro runs across the hall. But with your group no longer in sight, it clumsily skids to a stop, sniffing around for some kind of hint of where you all had gone.

“We can’t stay here! The ferry–”

“Shh!” Darius shushes Sammy, his eyes peeking through the vent to watch Toro leave in search of new prey.

In relieving silence, you all make a unanimous decision to travel through the vents rather than the tunnel halls. With all these dinosaurs on the loose, it’s better to stay low if you all want to get off this island.

Yasmina leads the way this time, crawling through the vents with the stun gun held tightly in her right hand. Coming across another vent opening, she gives a questioning look at Darius.

With silent confirmation from the shorter boy, the two of them shove themselves against the vent, trying to push it open from the inside out. And when that doesn’t work, Yasmina lets Darius grab hold of the stun gun, and they put all their force into thrusting the stun gun into the steel cover.

That turns out to be a bad idea when the only result they get is a loud ‘clunk’. The sound echoes across the tunnel, and your group pauses all movements. The six of you sit in tense silence, eyes searching for

an out of sight predator.

When nothing happens, everyone lets out sighs of relief. Though the feeling of safety is broken when Toro’s head forces itself into the entrance of the vent. Brooklynn, being the closest to the entrance, crawls backwards with a scream.

She leans against the edge of the vent, a yell forcing itself out of her mouth with each bite Toro attempts to take out of her. You make a grab at Brooklynn’s shoulder, gripping her jacket and pulling her away from the jaws of the carnivore as Darius and Yasmina hurriedly force the other vent cover off.

When the cover finally caves in, you all crawl out of the enclosed space as fast as possible. The sight that greets you brings a shimmer to your eye. It’s not a view of the ocean or anything, but a simple sign.

Brooklynn pats your shoulder with a smile, offering a similar expression to Darius. And when he spots the sign, he lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Exit to south dock, one thousand feet?”

Everyone lets their excitement be shown by giggles and smiles as they run down the wide tunnel. It was probably some sort of loading dock given its width, but you didn’t really care about that at the moment. Especially not when a shocked gasp escapes Kenji.

The tunnel led to an even wider room, a flush dock. And what makes a flush dock what it is? The door that separates it from the outside world. In place of an exit, an enormous concrete wall blocks your exit.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Kenji cries, sprinting towards the concrete barrier with furrowed brows.

Everyone is quick to look around the loading dock, pushing crates and boxes away from the walls in search of some sort of switch or button to open the dock.

“There’s gotta be a door or…” Kenji trails off.

“There’s no way out.” Brooklynn mutters, her voice cracking with sorrow. “Ugh! They must’ve sealed it off after the park was finished.”

Yasmina scoffs, “Can’t anyone associated with this place make just one good decision?!”

A roar sounding across the tunnels shuts everyone up, their gazes stuck on the darkness of the tunnel ahead. You all rush to group up again, staring at Darius with fear-ridden eyes.

“Darius, what do we do now?” Kenji asks desperately, crouched low on the ground as Darius pounds his fists against the solid concrete.

The appointed leader brings his fists to his side, his gaze cast elsewhere. “I don’t know.”

Another roar, this time much closer, spawns a cold sweat. Once again, everyone looks to Darius for directions, orders, guidance. Yet the boy only claws at his head with a grimace, refusing to look any of you in the eyes.

“But you always know.” Sammy murmurs.

“I don’t know!” Darius shouts, hiding his face in his arms as he brings his knees to his chest. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do about Ben, or Y/n, or Bumpy, or when the Indominus Rex attacked.”

Your eyes widen upon your name being called. Was Darius thinking about these things this whole time?

Toro roars once more, the sound echoing across the tunnel. Darius pounds on the concrete barrier again, explaining more despite being short of breath.

“All I did was make bad choices and get into trouble and mess everything up.”

His voice is quiet and uncertain, an unusual combination for Darius. He bangs his clenched fists against a nearby metal crate, grunting in a mix of anger and pain.

“You never should’ve trusted me. I should’ve just stayed home. I’m a dino-nerd who played a video game, and I’m no good at this.” He lays his head against the crate, still hiding his face from your guy’s view.

“But you are,” Kenji says, before quickly specifying. “Good at this. I mean, like, I’m sure you’re fine at video games, too, not downplaying that–”

He gets teasing shoves from just about everyone before he gets to the point.

“--but… none of us would’ve known what to do, Darius. But because you didn’t give up, we didn’t give up either.”

“You made a difference, Darius. You saved me.” You speak quietly, eyes bouncing from Darius’s face to the floor.

“You kept us goin’, no matter what some of us have done.” Sammy says solemnly.

“You made us feel like we were in this together.” Yasmina takes a seat next to Sammy, sharing an almost apologetic look with her. “So, we are. We’re a team. We’re your team.”

“Things fall apart.” Brooklynn begins. “And that’s okay because when that happens…”

“We pick up the pieces and we keep going.” Darius mumbles, reminding himself of what he had told all of you back at the destroyed camp.

Kenji offers a hand to Darius, reassuring smiles worn on all of your faces. With his confidence restored, Darius takes hold of Kenji’s hand and allows himself to be pulled upright.

There’s another roar from Toro, and it’s only a matter of time before he finds you all.

“He’s getting closer.” Brooklynn whispers.

“Let’s see what’s in these crates.” Darius says with determination.

You all immediately get to work in opening the abandoned crates, though you have little hope that Jurassic World would leave anything valuable in this sealed up area. Then again, big companies like these always cut corners, so you might get lucky.

“Come on, something pointy! Come on, something hurty!” Kenji calls, grunting as he pulls open a wooden crate. “Come on…”

Looking into the crate, he only groans disappointedly. “Medical supplies?”

Ignoring the fact that those could be incredibly important in the future, you had to agree that they were pretty useless at the moment. Regardless, everyone gathers around the crate. Laying in the crate are some green oxygen tanks, bandages, and tapes.

“We had these around the house after my dad got sick.” Darius pulls a tank out. “Super compressed air, sensitive to pressure and heat!”

“Might be able to scare Toro off.” Brooklynn suggests.

“Or distract him long enough for us to find another exit.” Darius proposes, placing the tank back into the crate. “Kenji, Brooklynn, let’s get this crate loaded on that cart.”

Darius gestures to a wheeled cart behind him before turning to you and Sammy.

“Sammy, Y/n, use those bandages and tape to make a fuse. We’re gonna need something to light it with.”

The stun gun Yasmina’s been using as a walking stick crackles to life in her hands, an obvious answer to Darius’s thinking. The blue electricity brings a smile out of everyone, but the mood is dampened when another roar is heard.

You all set into action, and when the rumbling steps of a familiar Carnotaurus get close enough, the trap is already set.

Toro snarls, roaring as if to announce its presence to its prey. The carnivore brings its snout to the ground, sniffing around as it growls. Seeing as your group hasn’t gotten discovered yet, Darius decides the plan is a go.

Once Darius gives the signal, Yasmina switches the stun gun on, touching the tape-bandage concoction with the charged electrodes. But when it doesn’t light, you all stare in concern.

“Yaz?” Brooklynn whispers anxiously.

“I’m trying! It won’t light!” Yasmina hisses.

With a gasp, you reach into the fanny pack tied around your waist, pulling out Ben’s custom-made hand sanitizer.

“Hold on!”

You pour a generous amount onto the end of the DIY rope, everyone watching curiously as you do so. When there seems to be a good amount of it, you shove it back into the fanny pack.

“This’ll burn.” You nearly grin.

Without another word, Yasmina switches the stun gun on again, and a fire finally starts.

“Thanks, Ben.” Brooklynn smiles.

Noticing the smell of the fire, Toro roars alarmingly.

“Now!” Darius orders, and you all push your weight against the cart.

It rolls towards the Carnotaurus, fire trailing up the tape-bandage rope all the while. You all watch in anticipation as it speeds towards the dinosaur. And with a flick of its head, it tosses the cart away. The action reminds you of the Sinoceratops during the cattle drive, which isn’t a very good memory.

The wooden crate gives way as it flies, blazing wood planks falling like snow across the dock. You all screamed in horror as the fire spreads towards anything flammable, yet Toro seems only minorly affected by the flames. The large carnivore roars aggressively, its sights set on your little group.

“Run!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere!”

You all scurried away from Toro, making sharp turns when possible and unsuccessfully hiding behind some stray crates. Kenji ends up tumbling onto the track running across the dock, rolling backwards to dodge Toro’s jaws.

By the time he jumps out of the crevice, Toro’s attention is on Brooklynn and Sammy. The latter quickly jumps out of the way while Brooklynn more so falls out of the way. Toro topples over and onto its back with the force of its failed attack, and Brooklynn has to avoid its flailing limbs to make her escape.

It swiftly chases after the pink-haired girl once it regains its balance, snapping its jaws at her every movement. The clanking of the stun gun diverts its attention, Yasmina using it to get herself back on her feet. It races towards the injured girl, jaws wide with the expectation of a mighty treat.

However, Toro’s mouth clamps shut when he gets hit in the snout with a piece of wood. The culprit being no other than the dino-nerd himself. With Toro’s attention on him, Darius shouts in fright as he runs away. Yasmina takes the chance to create some distance between her and the Carnotaurus.

As Darius goes every which way in order to avoid Toro, you fall backwards as they both come scarily close to your form. Though Kenji, who grunts as you practically throw yourself onto him, breaks your fall. He complains about your elbow poking his stomach or something, but your attention is still on Toro and his rampage.

Seeing Darius struggling to get the carnivore off his back, you push Kenji back onto the ground as you bring yourself to your feet. You almost stumble when Toro runs straight into the concrete barrier of the tunnel, but steady yourself quickly.

“Darius!” you call out to him, hand outstretched towards him.

You pull him up to your level with a grunt, just in time for Toro to regain his footing. With a stomp of his foot, he sets one of the oxygen tanks off, compressed air spraying out with a hiss.

The stun gun crackles with electricity as Darius switches it on, yet he does nothing with it until you both run away from Toro’s roaring form. Once you push yourself behind a crate with the rest of the group, Darius takes aim at Toro and the compressed air surrounding him.

And with a single toss, the area lights up from the explosion. Darius tosses himself behind the crates with the rest of you, and your group covers their heads as everything turns black from the smoke.

The lights from above crackle and spark, some falling from the ceiling and onto the ground below. There’s many coughing fits and groans from your group, the smoke only dissipating by a smidgen.

“Is everyone okay?” Darius calls out weakly.

There’s a short silence as everyone checks themselves for any injuries.

“Uh, surprisingly, yeah.” Brooklynn says in shock.

“Whoo-hoo!” Kenji cheers tiredly. “We did it. We beat…”

The sound of crumbling debris puts a pause to his celebration, everyone gasping in confusion. Not too far in front of you, Toro emerges from the rumble with a pained roar.

You almost can’t see over all the smoke and dust, but as it growls pitifully, you can make out its scarred skin. If you thought the scar on its snout was bad, then this was downright horrendous, and it was. Toro’s skin was a mix between red and black, charred and burned skin mixed crudely.

It can barely hold itself up, falling on its side as it tries to search for signs of life. Turning to your group, it snarls and whines, its previous aggression nowhere to be seen. Though it still seems as if it refuses to give up.

But your group stands tall, glaring at the carnivore with determination rather than fear. Toro stares back, its yellow eyes glancing over each and every one of you. When none of you back down from its gaze, it roars in defeat, turning around and walking back into the darkness of the tunnel.

“Yeah! That’s what you get! Take that, Toro!” Darius screams happily. “That’s how you do it!”

The Carnotaurus roars a final time before it disappears into the dark tunnels opposite to you all.

“Whoo-hoo!”

“Yes!”

Cheering fills the otherwise dreary dock, hands raised in the air joyfully.

“I thought we were goners! Oh, that was scary!” Kenji laughs, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Doesn’t get better than that.” Darius nods his head.

“Wanna bet?” Yasmina asks from her standing position, pointing a thumb towards the concrete barrier from before.

Now, light shines through the damaged barrier, a beacon of hope. Wide smiles spread across everyone’s face, some chuckling in disbelief.

In an instant, you all are running through the grass and foliage, the destination already set in your minds. Passing just a few more trees, you break through the forest line and make contact with the dock. Though what greets you isn’t a gigantic ship packed with escapees, instead you’re greeted with an empty dock and the caws of hungry seagulls.

“They’re gone.” Darius huffs, his breath short from running all the way there. “They’re all gone.”

“They’ll be back for us, won’t they?” Sammy asks hesitantly.

“Of course they will. And until then, we’ve got each other.” Darius walks forward, punching Kenji’s shoulder playfully. “Right, Mr. VIP?”

“Absolutely, Dino-nerd.” Kenji smirks, slapping your back to get your attention. “Bookworm’s got it, right?”

You roll your eyes with a scoff, though there’s no anger in your voice. “Yup, definitely.”

“Hey,” Brooklynn pushes herself between the three of you, a sly smile worn on her face. “Don’t forget ‘superstar’.”

“Barf.” Yasmina jokes, leaning against Sammy with a grin.

The moment ends as you all stare where the sun meets the ocean, a melancholy feeling coming across all of you.

We thought it’d be fun.

We thought we’d be safe.

But we didn’t realize the horror waiting for us on the island.

Claws, teeth, screaming…

So much screaming.

Despite all the hardships, we’ll never give up.

We’ll keep fighting.

That’s the promise we make every day we get.

We will survive.

We will get home.

Because no matter what happens, no matter what this place throws at us next, none of us are in this alone.

#gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #jurassic world

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fandom-hoarder · 2 months ago

Note

happy wincest wednesday! what is something the boys would do for each when the other isn't looking or paying attention just to be nice?

Hahhh... sorry for letting this sit so long; I have been extremely distracted. Idk if it's appropriate to say "happy" today, but it does so happen to be wincest wednesday and well... this probably wasn't the kind of answer you expected at the time, but here's what this makes me think about today...

Dean wakes up -- later than he's been used to most of his life, but earlier than he's grown accustom. He can feel that Sam's still in bed, and guesses it's before Sam's 6am run. But then the hairs on his body raise inexplicably, and he sits up with the urgency of a house fire.

"What's going on?"

And Sam's answer is tired, red-rimmed eyes and his phone wordlessly turned so Dean can see the screen.

Dean feels detached from the bigger issues of the election as Sam cycles through the stages of grief throughout the morning. Dean's only concern is Sam.

Sam tries to start getting ready for his run. "They haven't really even finished the count yet. There's still a chance for a miracle in the mail-in votes," he says, but his shoe drops from his hand when he tries to pick it up, and he just stares at it. Dean wonders if Sammy is thinking about their track record in miracles.

So Dean agrees, "Of course, come on, this guy again? No way. The blue guys'll clinch it." And he helps Sam put on his shoes and then puts on his own, pulling Sam out of the bunker with him and bracing against the early morning chill, only to be met with a balmy, pre-sunrise 50 degrees.

Halfway through their jog, Sam suddenly breaks his sync with Dean, kicking at a tree with a guttural growl and the full force of his foot as if he was wearing his hunting boots. Dean cringes.

"Maybe if I'd found a way for us to vote without getting arrested -- we've broken so many laws anyway, what's a little voter fraud, right?! But no. And now look!"

He aims for the tree again, but Dean catches his leg with an 'oof.'

"C'mon, Sam, you know that's ridiculous. The two of us wouldn't have turned Kansas around by ourselves. You can't help that you still have faith in people, Sammy. You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

"Because I'm stupid," Sam says bitterly, and turns around to jog back to the bunker.

Dean follows him, but can't quite keep up this time. When he reaches the bunker, Sam is on the phone in the kitchen.

"I'm tellin' you, Garth, it's just like that time with Dick Roman when they drugged everybody to turn us into food. You really haven't heard anything? Don't you think it's completely crazy to believe his followers aren't under some kind of supernatural influence, for him to get away with all the horrible shit he does?"

"Well, maybe you could try asking Rowena---" Garth's tinny voice suggests as Dean pulls the phone away and hangs up.

"Dean--" Sam complains, reaching for the phone dispassionately.

"You know we already looked into this asshole. He's 100% human evil, Sammy."

Sam collapses onto the table bench, hand over his face. "Claire's already texted me twelve times. I don't even know what to say to her."

Dean looks at Sams phone and sees that there's a voicemail from Patience too. Pursing his lips, he turns off Sam's phone and pockets it. He sidles up behind Sam, cupping the back of Sam's neck and squeezing like he's scruffing him.

Sam takes a deep, hitching breath and holds it, breathing it out long and slow as Dean slides his hands down to dig his thumbs into the knots Sam's formed over the last twelve anxious hours.

"Well I guess," Sam starts, softly, "At least now he can't run again after this."

Dean starts to glimpse the promise of relief in his belly, before Sam adds with a self deprecating laugh: "As long as he doesn't change the law about term limits."

Dean squeezes Sam's shoulders, and keeps working at the tension until his hands get sore. Then he makes them breakfast, and makes sure Sam gets something in his stomach besides coffee.

But after Sam mechanically finishes the eggs and pancakes, Dean adds a couple splashes of whiskey when he tops up Sam's coffee -- after which, Sam says he should finally take his shower, but decides to lay his head down on the table for a minute and falls asleep.

Dean does his best to make sure Sam won't wake up with an even gnarlier backache, and does the dishes quickly before sneaking into the archives for the ingredients to contact Rowena.

But Rowena is no help to him if it doesn't come with a deal, and Dean has finally learned enough to know Sam wouldn't find the trade fair.

Dean lets Rowena go and turns Sam's phone back on, refreshing the election map. It still shows a handful of states at less than 80% reported, despite the bold banner at the top announcing a winner, and Dean looks at it in disgust.

A new text notification chimes in, and Dean sees Claire's name and a preview of her text: "I can get Alex to teach us how to do backroom abor" and Dean can guess what the rest of the text says.

Dean meets Sam in the hallway, calling for him.

"Hey," Sam says, sliding on his socked feet as he sees Dean and stops short. "I heard my phone. Was that Claire?" He snatches his phone from Dean and immediately starts scrolling, reading Claire's texts under his breath and dancing his fingers across the keys in a sudden fury. Quickly, Sam goes from upright to hunched like a question mark over his phone, shuffling restlessly up and down the corridor and mumbling about hrt supplies.

"Sammy, will ya take a breath? I'll knock over a pharmacy before I make ya go without your shots. --They'll still be makin' it for cis dudes, right?"

"Yeah. Probably. And I know you would, Dean, but I'm not worried about me," Sam says, not looking up. "Claire's going to scope out some manufacturing facilities with the girls and we're gonna set up an underground hrt resource. I wonder if there's anyone in our network who could work out a small manufacturing setup. It's too bad Kevin...or Charlie..." Sam mumbles down into nothing as he keeps typing, and Dean's stomach clenches.

He herds Sam, still typing, down to the showers, and gets the steam going while he strips Sam down and finally pulls the phone from his grasp. Dean pulls Sam down to him and goes up on his tiptoes to kiss Sam's forehead. He swears he can smell the salt of Sam's tears, and when he looks at Sam's face again they shimmer on his cheeks like the silvery scars of his top surgery.

Gently, Dean pushes Sam into the shower and under the water, carving his hands through Sam's hair to wet it down.

"Didn't think we'd be going through another apocalypse again so soon."

"Or ever," Dean agrees gruffly, grabbing Sam's special shampoo. "But this one isn't on us, Sam."

Sam closes his eyes, somehow still admonishing even as more tears join the water on his face. Dean's sudsy fingers scrub his scalp soothingly. "Dean. It's what we do."

"HRT, ok, that's one thing. But clandestine abortions?"

Sam snorts. "Alex can teach us."

"Us?"

Sam leans to rinse under the water when Dean directs him. "We'll cache abortion pills for the easy stuff, but we should be prepared to do more. We've taken bigger risks on DIY, and at least we'll get some training on this. Soon there might not even be any other options..."

So that's how Dean finds himself on his knees. Alone in his room. Praying to Jack as Sam sets up some type of mission control in the library.

"Please, Jack, I know you said you're hands off, an' all, but I think you should make an exception for Sammy. Just this once. He's had a lifetime of Hell-- more'n a lifetime-- and this is supposed to be our retirement. So can ya chip in a little for his 41st half-birthday -- which you missed, by the way -- and fix this freaking election so we don't hafta spend our retirement in another friggin' apocalypse?"

A weird feeling comes over Dean as he prays, buzzing through him with warm, alien reassurance. And as his stomach starts to unclench, he adds: "and hey, I'm not expecting ya to fix all of human history-- we're still team free will down here-- but throw in some worldwide human rights and extended ceasefires while you're at it. You missed a few of his actual birthdays, too, y'know."

Five minutes later, Dean's knees are cracking as he stands up and sprints down the halls towards the sound of Sam's bellowed, "Oh my god. Dean!"

Sam is gaping blearily at his laptop in the library.

"What's up? You okay?"

Sam can only gesture at his laptop, where the screen is displaying the final results of the count, and the Dems managed to pull a sudden upset, tilting the final count to their favor by two swing states after the paper ballots were counted.

"Ho-ly shit," Dean says, almost unable to believe it himself.

"And that's not all!" Sam says with a hint of bright incredulity, and scrolls down his news page.

"ALL the firearms disappeared?!" Dean asks, reaching for his gun automatically but realizing he'd never armed himself today. "Bombs, too? How?"

He knows how, but he still feels shocked. He'll have to check their stashes to see if Jack disarmed even them -- Dean really needs to get better at wording his wishes. They can't just be naked out here if monsters still exist.

But Sam answers Dean obliviously, "No idea! There's already a bunch of conspiracy theories on social media, each one crazier and yet more plausible than the last. Tucker Carlson already uploaded an AI shortfilm about how it was demons---" Sam turns to Dean suddenly and Dean cuts him off before he can speak it.

"It wasn't Rowena."

When Sam frowns at him in confusion, Dean begrudgingly elaborates, "I tried asking her for a favor while you were asleep, but she said that big of an ask would require a deal. You know I know better than that." (Now.)

Sam looks outrageously skeptical, and Dean feels offended. "Dean, people are reporting resurrections and olive trees sprouting full grown from rubble. Razor wire around global borders turning to wildflowers. Fields of grain in Ukraine. Cereal stalks cropping up in desolate Sudan farms, sprouted with grain and full heads of cooked kisra..." Sam keeps scrolling past miraculous headlines. "And these videos don't look like AI."

Dean bites his lip, wondering-- hoping-- that this will bring an end to the suffering, and not just be a bandaid before things continue going to shit. He focuses on the headlines and video titles quickly scrolling by, watching for anything about peace agreements or troops retreating. Screw free will, actually, just a little bit.

"D-Dean... do you think... Jack?"

Dean watches the weight of the world ease off Sammy's shoulders, infinitesimally, and doesn't resist the urge to wrap his arms around Sam, kissing his temple.

"Maybe, Sammy. Maybe."

#asks #nameslikeguns #wincest wednesday #but lol it's actually after midnight now hahhh #2024 election #🙃#trans sam winchester #transmasc!sam #idk some miracles would be nice #but Dean's still Dean. like. yknow.🤷‍♀️#i hope #idk #spn fanfiction #wincest fanfiction #samdean fanfiction #is this anything. am i ridiculous. this ended up being how i spent my day.#dean only prays for sam #current events

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motelsnleatherseats · 6 months ago

Text

Sam's 17 and he's already made up his mind that college is the best thing for him to escape the hunter lifestyle, to run away from feelings that had been trying to scratch their way forcefully out of his chest. He's tried to convince himself that he's been good at covering his tracks while looking into different schools, but Dean can tell he's up to something, especially when he suggests that they look into a case that just so happened to be in California.

Sam can tell Dean's up to something as well when he suggests they take a day to go to the beach instead of working on the actual case, but he goes along with it anyway, trying to stock up on good memories before he fully jumped ship. But it's just the two of them, and it makes Sam's longing intensify, makes him crave normalcy, but there's nothing normal about the way he feels about his big brother.

Dean's freckles have intensified under the California sun, and the skin stretched over Sam's cheek bones are dusted a light pink from the faint sunburn. They're sun-kissed and warm, sandy soles of feet and palms from sitting on the beach as they watch the sky paint itself rich red and orange as the sun melts into the watery horizon.

"I've seen the applications, you know," Dean murmurs to cut the silence, the sound of the waves rolling in gentle crashes mimics the way Sam can hear the blood rush through his body as his heart drops. He glances at his brother, expression already apologetic, but he's surprised to see there's no anger on Dean's face. "Didn't peg you for a California guy."

"Dean.."

"Sammy." Sam swallowed at the lump in his throat that had formed. "I get it. I know you've been looking for a way out. I see the way you look like you want to jump out of your skin every time Dad's far enough away to give a head start," he spoke, dropping his gaze down to the water for lingering moment. He truly understood Sam's plight, but it didn't make it any easier to know that if he did turn tail and run, that meant he left Dean behind too. "Can I even say anything that would make you want to stay?"

Sam's heart breaks.

"I just want to be normal," Sam finally answers, his voice quiet and weak -- vulnerable. They've had this conversation before, much louder, much angrier, but it feels like this one is more final. "I'm tired of being a freak."

"Sammy, you're not a freak," Dean responds before he's on his feet and he's tugging Sam up to stand as well. He's grown, his little brother not so little anymore, and he'd bypass Dean in height in the next year or two, no question about it.

"You don't get it. It's not even about the monsters or the hunting, there's something wrong with me. It's like I'm sick, and it's bone deep," he lamented, finding it hard to hold his brother's emerald gaze.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asks before he reaches a hand out to lay on Sam's shoulder and Sam ducks away from it, afraid that any touch will make him crumble.

"It's you," Sam finally spits out, and Dean's expression falters. There's hurt there, and it feels like a stab in the gut to Sam. He'd backed himself into a corner and he owed his brother an explanation. "It's -- it's how I feel about you. These thoughts that I have.. they're eating me alive. I feel crazy, a-and broken. You're my brother. I shouldn't feel this way, it's wrong and there's no way--"

"Whoa, hey, okay. Stop, okay? Stop." He reached for his hip this time, and Sam's violently shoved into confusion as his throat tightens and his heart is beating so hard, he could feel his fingertips pulsing. "Look, if you're sick, then I'm sick too."

"What?" Sam's voice barely holds resolve and the look in his eyes alone is pleading for further clarification, and Dean keeps his hands planted on him to anchor his brother, knowing how quickly the kid can fly off the handles when he's self-loathing. He's got to pull him back from the ledge, and the only way to do that was with softness.

"Yeah, Sammy. I feel it too. And I know it's wrong, and we shouldn't.. but I can't lose you, kiddo. I can't do this alone," Dean spoke and Sam's eyes ached suddenly as they filled with tears before he moved his hands to his brother's shoulders, caught between wanting to embrace him or shake the living hell out of him. Why now? Why after he had already made up his mind?

"We can't," Sam choked as Dean pulled him closer, mere inches apart and his heart was nearly in his throat.

"Maybe we could," Dean offered, hope braided into his words. "What can I say to make you stay?" They were close enough now to have their noses touching, and Sam looked like he was barely holding it together. "Sammy.. stay with me."

Sam couldn't tell if this was Dean's Hail Mary, his last and final attempt to sway his decision, but as their lips pressed together in Dean's last 'please Sammy', a tear rolled down the younger's cheek. It was everything he could have wanted, and everything he knew he couldn't have.

#squint #wincest #drabble #angst #pre-stanford drama goodness

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colesabi · 7 months ago

Note

8, 12, and 14 for the fic ask game 😊

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good).

Another one from @thebrandywine. The entirety of past the end ‘verse. ugh, it hurt so good but there was psychic damage.

💘 A fic you couldn’t stop reading once you started.

all those things that you desire (you will find here in the fire) by you! I’m pretty sure I read that entire fic in an evening. So addicting.

🤩 A fic that made you SLAM that “subscribe” button.

According to AO3, my first user subscription was @thebrandywine and I believe the first fic I read was Broken Machine so that tracks.

thanks for the ask Sammy!

#ask game

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mikiemcsmitty · 3 months ago

Text

Fictober Day 3

prompt: "I know you better"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Alcohol/substance abuse, Mild self-harm implication

Summary:

Dean's POV: In between S10 E3 and S10 E4 Dean slips away from Sam's careful watch to try to deal with his problems independently.

It was windy and cold outside. Not to mention raining. This was the third bar in Smith County that Sam had walked to and with his car still broken down and the only working car being the one Dean took Sam had no other choice but to trudge through the weather in his pursuit to find his brother. This time he got lucky, the familiar 1967 Chevy Impala was parked outside. He went inside to find Dean completely hammered, sitting at the bar.

“Dean?”

“Sammy!”

“Common Dean, I'm here to take you home,” Sam said, clearly annoyed.

“Nooo. Come sit, have a drink,” Dean said while slurring his words.

Sam sighed in exhaustion. “Dean, what are you doing? This self-destructive behavior… it’s getting old.” Sam reached into Dean's pocket to grab his keys and Dean was clearly too drunk to stop him. “Let's go,” he said rattling the keys in front of him.

Dean grabbed his jacket off of the back of the barstool and followed Sam back to the car. “You're such a buzz kill,” he said under his breath.

“Seriously, Dean! Look I know you're dealing with a lot right now but this isn't you.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t start with me. I already told you I forgive you for the Mark of Cain business–”

“Sam!” Dean interrupted him.

“What?”

“Pull over. Now.”

Sam sighed again before obliging knowing that Dean would have a fit if he let him throw up in his own car.

The two of them were on the side of the road for about 20 minutes while Dean threw up everything he ate, drank, and took that night. Sam was getting more and more impatient by the minute. “Talk to me, Dean. What's going on?”

Dean groaned. “It's nothing. Can't a guy just get a drink every now and then?”

“Come on Dean… I know you better than that. What's really going on?”

Dean sighed and leaned back on the side of the car. “It's just… you keep saying you've forgiven me… but that doesn't mean I've forgiven myself.”

“So you thought disappearing, leaving a cryptic note, and drinking so much your liver will never recover was the right way to go about it.”

“I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“Well too bad.” Sam paused before pulling the note out of his pocket. “Going out to get fucked up. Don't come looking for me in the morning. Signed Dean,” he read off. “You can't just keep drowning your sorrows in alcohol and whatever else you're on right now.”

“It's just alcohol.”

“Really? Because you have a track record you know…”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think I don't notice how the ashtray in the Impala is always full or how whenever you get a headache you just take pills from an unmarked bag and keep it pushing. You’re reckless and self-destructive and probably borderline suicidal at this point and these problems run way deeper than the Mark and you know it.”

“You're one to talk, you know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I believe I remember you trying to buy sleeping pills off the black market a few years ago not to mention your method to keep the hallucinations away.”

“That was different,” Sam said with a scoff.

“Look. You know it. I know it. Our lives are screwed up enough as it is that we've earned our fair share of illicit assistance.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “That's a twisted way to think… You know maybe Cas was right. We should take a break– a real break.” Sam folded his arms over his chest. “We could drive out to the lake and just spend some time just you, me, and a reasonable amount of beer. How's that sound?”

“Sounds like a load of crap,” Dean says flatly. After letting the silence drag out he finally gives a real answer. “We can leave in the morning after I sleep this off.”

#fictober #fictober24 #spn #supernatural #october #sam winchester #dean winchester #mark of cain

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awakenthemusic · 1 year ago

Text

Photo Shoot (Part 1)

“A photo shoot, Sammy, really?” Dean scoffed. Bunch of spoiled-rotten, plucked and primped assholes running around making ridiculous amounts of money to stand around and smile into a camera like an idiot. No, thank you.

“C’mon, Dean, it makes sense. If you were a shapeshifter, wouldn’t you want to be the best-looking person in the room?” Before Dean could answer the question, Sam shot him an innocent look and said, “Oh, and did I mention they’re looking for a PA?”

Tags: Short fic, ~1,700 words, Destiel, Case Fic, UST

For Suptober 2023 Day 5 - Portrait

Part 2 here

Under the cut or on Ao3

*****

Dean’s headset hummed with chatter as he leaned against the wall and sucked down a bottle of water. The shoot wasn’t as much fun as a film set (no Craft Services for one thing, stupid model diets) but something still buzzed happily under Dean’s skin as he worked with the rest of the crew to bring the photographer’s vision to life.

Every two minutes, someone needed something new. Dean bounced from job to job, solving problem after problem, no time to worry, no time to think, just focused on the here and now and letting everything flow. He hadn’t felt so alive while doing anything other than slicing and dicing a monster in years.

Speaking of, Dean thought. I wonder how Sammy’s getting on with the case. He had stopped by to ask Dean something a couple of hours ago, but that had been right when Monica had had her tantrum and all hell had broken loose. Afterward, Dean had been too busy cleaning up the diva’s strawberry-açaí-whatever smoothie to pay much attention to what Sam had been saying.

Seriously, you’d think with how little these people were allowed to eat, they’d want to hang on to their food and not go throwing it around the studio...

A new voice in his ear caught Dean’s attention. “Where the hell are Ross and Penn? We can’t start the formal wear shoot without them.”

Looks like break time’s over. Dean was off again, radioing in as he walked toward the dressing rooms.

*****

The two models were nowhere to be found. The crew and assistants had canvased the entire studio and, if the two men had been here earlier, they sure as hell weren’t here now.

The photographer was livid.

“What do you mean they’re not here?” He fumed, his bushy mustache quivering with rage as his assistant cowered. “What am I paying you idiots for if you can’t even keep track of two lousy models?”

Suddenly, Cas stepped up next to Dean and asked quietly, “What’s going on?”

Dean turned, his scowl disappearing as he said, “Hey, Cas.”

Cas smiled softly. “Hello, Dean.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Sam left me a message this morning.” Cas stepped a little closer, lowering his voice to murmur below the photographer’s continued yelling. “You’re here hunting a shapeshifter?”

“Yep.” Dean swallowed, fighting through the tingly rush that always seemed to wash over him when Cas stood this close. “Sam thinks it’s one of the models.”

“Ah. I’ll get as close as I can,” Cas said, scanning the faces in the small crowd gathered around. “I should be able to spot the shifter easily.”

Cas’ gaze swung back around to Dean and, for a moment, all Dean could do was nod.

They stared at each other, oblivious to the world as the photographer ranted, “… anyone! Get me… Hey, you two!”

Sudden silence pulled Dean out of their impromptu staring contest. He turned to find the photographer and his assistant looking right at him and Cas.

Just in case there was any confusion who the photographer was talking about, he shouted, “PA dude and Trench Coat guy! Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted!”

*****

Twenty minutes of hair, makeup, clothes fittings, and light checks, later, Dean felt vaguely like he'd been put through a car wash without a car. The sheer number of people who had been involved with primping, pressing, and pinning him into the nicest suit he'd ever worn was impressive, if also mildly terrifying.

Now, he stood under the hot lights, ants crawling around under his skin as everyone in the room stared at him. Shit, where the fuck is Cas?

"Finally," the photographer, whose name was apparently Morris, said, glancing behind Dean.

The costume assistant shot past Dean grumbling something under their breath that sounded a lot like, "Goddamn shoulders."

Dean turned around, relieved that Cas was finally joining him, but his greeting died on his tongue. As soon as he caught sight of Cas, Dean's brain screeched to a sudden halt with an audible crash.

Goddamn shoulders was right. Cas was dressed in a black suit that clung to his body in all the right places. His shoulders looked wide enough to park the Impala on, his biceps bulged under the fine fabric of the suit's sleeves, and his thighs... oh, fuck, if his thighs were anything to go by, Dean might just die on the spot if he caught sight of Cas' ass.

Dean finally met Cas' eyes and shivered at the fire he found there. Apparently, the nice clothes were doing Dean some favors too. He swallowed, straightening up and telling himself that his mouth was only dry because of all the hot lights blazing from every angle.

Someone whistled low and Dean heard Morris say, "Yeah, I can work with that."

*****

Dean took back every bad thing he'd ever said or thought about models in his motherfucking life. Turns out 'standing around looking good and smiling for a camera' was a hell of a lot of work. Dean learned more about lighting and angles and makeup and hair products over the next couple of hours than he'd have thought possible, all while straining to contort and hold his body in unnatural positions, smiling until his face ached, and sweating more than he did digging up graves under the studio's bright lights.

At least Cas was right there with him. He even had the decency to at least look like he was just as miserable and sweaty as Dean was, though that might have had more to do with his ongoing attempt to blend in with humanity rather than an effort to keep Dean's morale up.

Among other things... Dean thought as he caught himself staring at Cas' ass in the latest pair of sinfully-tight suit pants. He chugged yet another bottle of water and stepped strategically sideways to help rearrange things in his own, tightening, pants.

"Alright, last set-up, people!"

Dean sagged in relief as he stepped up onto the slightly-raised stage the crew had been redressing and relighting. There was now some kind of sturdy long chair (what were those called? a chaise or something?) in the middle of the space along with several rugs and throw blankets, all in the same neutral color that all the sets had been in today, apparently 'to let the clothes pop!'

"Dan," Morris growled at Dean, still getting his name wrong. (Dean had given up correcting him after the first hour) "You lie back on the chair. Chase," He continued, (at least indiscriminate with his memory problems) turning to Cas. "You get on top of him like we talked about."

Dean froze, perched awkwardly on the edge of the chair as Morris' words registered. Say what now?

A very tired, very cranky, very red-faced Cas stomped up onto the stage, looking like heavenly fury personified, his patience ready to snap and smite every human who had dared to put him in this position in the first place. He marched over to Dean, manhandled him flat on his back on the chair without so much as asking permission, planted one of his knees in between Dean's, and leaned all the way into Dean's personal space, his hands on either side of Dean's head on the back of the chair.

Dean stared up at Cas' face from way too close for his own sanity, swallowed heavily, and desperately tried to convince his downstairs brain that this wasn't the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. Time seemed suspended for a long moment as Cas just hovered above him, ignoring Dean like they did this every day, as he stared at the people moving around them, waiting for them to finish the final light check.

Dean took a few unsteady breaths (through his mouth, Cas smelled way too good) and tried his best to relax and go with the flow. None of this mattered, not really. It was just some photo shoot, just another undercover job for a case, nothing to get excited about.

The crew finished the light check and Cas' eyes slammed into Dean's. Just another case, just another case. I'm sweating because the lights are too damn hot and this is just another case.

The photographer took shot after shot, calling out minute changes to their position several times as the shutter clicked. "Looking great, guys. Cash," Morris called out to Cas again (at least he was closer this time.) "Ready for you to make your move."

Dean had a split second to wonder what the hell that was supposed to mean before Cas reached down, grabbed hold of the tie that was knotted loosely around Dean's neck, and pulled, yanking his head up off the back of the chair. Dean's entire torso lifted off the seat until he and Cas were suspended over the chair, only an inch or two separating them. Dean gasped, his hand flying up to grip Cas' shoulder, as his face stopped within inches of Cas', their eyes locking together.

All thought of this being just another case flew out of Dean's mind. From this close, he could see the moment that Cas' pupils dilated, the sparks that had been flying back and forth between them all afternoon suddenly igniting in a crackle of electricity in the air between them.

"Gorgeous, guys! Hold it right there," Morris sang out happily as Dean's brain melted out of his ears, every thought in his head turning to static as Cas held him close. Close enough that all either one of them would have to do is tilt their head...

"Perfect!" Morris shouted, shaking Dean out of his stupor. "That's all for today, folks. Good work, everyone!"

#suptober23 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

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milkb0nny · 1 year ago

Text

××× Soft Spoken ×××

Dean Winchester x fem!nephilim (OC)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Summary: Sam discovered an unusual store in the city, dragging Dean along him. The shop possessed various books on demons, angels and other supernatural creatures. Sam decided to stay for a moment to search for further information on nephilim. Meanwhile, a woman entered the store, searching for protective sigils and spells. Dean quickly noticed that the voice sounded familiar. Again, the Winchester brothers met the nephilim and her identity crackled little by little.

Note: The next chapter will be more intriguing, as Castiel and Nevaeh will finally meet. I still enjoyed writing this one, covering the relationship between the brothers a little more.

Warnings: none

word count: 2.422

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, Sam stirred from his slumber to find the motel room devoid of his older brother. Panic momentarily gripped him as he feared that Dean might have been abducted during the night.

However, the sight of a note left on Dean's bed eased his concerns. It appeared that Dean had already left for the repair shop, which did nothing to assuage Sam's reservations about his brother's well-being. Still, Dean was ambiguous and the two of them had to get closer to the current events taking place in this city.

After a swift, warm shower, Sam dressed in his casual attire, donning a brown leather jacket to shield him from the morning chill. As he stepped outside into the crisp morning air, with the sun casting a warm glow, for a moment, he felt like an ordinary man embarking on a typical day. But the door he exited led to a motel room, and his destination was his hunting-obsessed brother. Sighing, he made his way.

The repair shop wasn’t that far from their place, only about ten minutes walking. During his leisurely stroll, Sam recalled the complexities of tracking a celestial being in a city where demons seemed to be the primary source of supernatural disturbances. He was unable to think of another cause of supernatural events, as no ghosts, shapeshifters or witches harmed anybody here.

Upon arriving at the repair shop, Sam found Dean already toiling away on the Impala, refusing assistance from the shop's employees.

Dean's attachment to the car was almost childlike, as if he needed to mend it with his own hands.

While Sam greeted the workers with a much more pleasant demeanor, his brother's irritable side was more apparent.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean huffed as he heaved the broken engine hood aside. He handled it with care but couldn't hide the pain he felt when seeing his treasured Impala in such a state.

“Good morning,” Sam replied, his gaze filled with concern as he observed Dean's tireless work. “Dean, you know you’re injured, right? Don’t you want to rest a little?” he asked him, worried about his brother's well-being.

Sam's pleas, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears. Dean, his face etched with determination and exhaustion, was quick to respond. “Sam, we don't have time to rest. This car's our lifeline, and we can't afford any downtime,” he insisted, highlighting the urgency of their situation.

While Dean was right about time running fast, he forgot that the injuries might worsen if he keeps up being so stubborn. Sam wanted to complain about this annoying personality trait of his brother, but that opportunity was denied.

Just as Dean was emphasizing the importance of their task, a deep, raspy voice interjected. A rather short yet robust man approached the brothers, his black hat and oil-stained clothes giving away his connection to the repair shop. However, it soon became evident that he was more than just an employee.

“Are you Sam?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

“Uh, yes, I am,” Sam responded with a hint of confusion. He mustered the man up and down, thinking, he was merely an employee of this garage. To his surprise, the stranger revealed himself as the owner of the shop.

“I’d give you and your brother some time here, to get your car fixed. Since you’re friends with Nev, I’ll charge you less. You’re free to use our tools but don’t break them. That'd be expensive,” he cautioned, while fumbling with his car keys.

Sam's inquisitive eyes landed on the man's name tag, which read 'Joshua Garden'—a typically American name.

“Thank you very much,” Sam smiled at him, genuinely grateful for the assistance.

Joshua grinned, inspecting the Impala. The labor of love and devotion that Dean had poured into the car did not go unnoticed by the shop owner. Though he didn't seem too keen on joining their conversation, his offer of help was warmly received. Dean was absorbed in his work, his hands and thoughts fully engaged in fixing their beloved car.

While Joshua inquired about how the car had ended up in such a dire state, Sam quickly crafted a plausible explanation. He mentioned a collision with a tree, caused by a random man who had jumped in front of their car. Joshua, perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the situation, chose not to delve deeper into the matter, accepting Sam's account as fact.

With the pleasantries concluded, Joshua excused himself, leaving the Winchester brothers alone for the time being. Sam took a seat on some nearby wheels, his eyes wandering aimlessly over the shops and houses on the other side of the street.

His eyes wandered through the various faces sitting in the cozy cafés, examined the various signs across doors and windows: Holly's Book Store, 24/7 Nightclub, Occult Shop, Betty's Flower Shop. His attention was abruptly seized by a tiny sign hanging from a dark wooden door. An Occult Shop? The existence of such a store in this seemingly ordinary city piqued his curiosity.

“Dean, do you see that shop there, next to the restaurant?”

Raising his head, Dean scanned the area until he spotted the shop his brother had mentioned. The small store appeared as bewildering to Dean as it did to Sam.

Nevertheless, whenever the two hunters stumbled upon such unique shops, they took the time to explore them in the hope of finding new information about supernatural creatures. Sometimes their visits yielded valuable knowledge and weapons against specific monsters, while other times they discovered nothing more than tourist traps.

Dean set aside his tools when his brother proposed taking a stroll through the shop. Although Dean wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, he agreed, acknowledging that his primary job was hunting monsters, not repairing cars. Perhaps they could use some assistance from the shop's employees.

“Yeah, I’ll take a break,” Dean conceded, and indicating that they should visit the shop owner. The brothers crossed the fairly busy street and entered the store through its old, creaky wooden door

The interior featured old shelves lined with books, offering a wealth of knowledge about witchcraft, the history of magic, crystals, and emanating a distinct, earthy scent. The shop owner, an elderly man who resembled a kindly college history professor, seemed to blend seamlessly with the ambiance of the store as if he had spent his entire life there. His friendly face welcomed the brothers but didn't immediately overwhelm them with his knowledge. Sam got the impression that the shop owner simply enjoyed the quiet appreciation of his wares, and the brothers followed suit.

Both stood behind a tall shelf filled with several books about demons and angels. Sam discovered a book detailing the history of archangels, covering aspects from the Bible and other religions, which he hoped might contain valuable information.

Suddenly, the door opened once more, and a soft chime echoed through the shop.

“Excuse me. Do you perhaps have any information on protective sigils and symbols against demons or angels? I've been…,” a soft voice hesitated, a voice familiar to the Winchester brothers, “researching some things again, and I could use some guidance.”

Dean surreptitiously peered around the corner, confirming his suspicions: the gentle voice belonged to Nevaeh, who was attired in her usual elegant fashion, albeit slightly more comfortable than her typical style.

“Welcome Nevaeh. I believe I have something that interests you, my dear. You might find what you're looking for in this ancient grimoire over here. It contains knowledge of various protective sigils and their applications.” he pointed to a thick, black book nestled in the far corner of the shop.

Nevaeh nodded appreciatively and replied, “Thank you so much.”

She reached for the book and began flipping through its delicate pages. Most of the sigils were already familiar to her, given her meticulous study. However, she wondered if there were new methods of protection she had yet to discover.

Dean, who had overheard the brief exchange, leaned over to Sam, who was deeply engrossed in the book, oblivious to the unfolding situation.

“Sam, did you hear that? Nevaeh’s asking about protective symbols. That's gotta be related to the nephilim,” he expressed quietly, gaining Sam’s attention.

“Yeah, uhm, alright. Then let's see what she knows,” Sam replied calmly.

He closed the book and placed it back in its original spot. Scanning the shop, he found Nevaeh sitting in an old chair, reading various pages. Dean, with a quiet admiration, approached her first.

“Hey there,” he greeted her, offering a friendly tone. Her serious expression gave way to a welcoming one, her hazel eyes now fully focused on the Winchesters.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to meet you here,” she said somewhat shyly, a bit intimidated by their presence. Nevaeh couldn't help but notice that whenever she encountered the brothers, something supernatural always seemed to be afoot. And here they were once more, in an Occult Shop.

Sam noticed her hesitation, trying to break her social resistance a little, “We overheard your question about protective sigils. We've been looking into something related to that as well,” Sam gently explained.

Nevaeh, still somewhat taken aback, inquired, “Oh, uh - So you’re saying that you’re actually into this stuff? That’s unusual. What are you looking for?”

Sam glanced back at Dean, who nodded his approval to share the true purpose of their presence in Rock Springs. While the Winchesters typically kept their hunting endeavors a secret from civilians, they believed Nevaeh could hold the key they needed.

Sam answered, “We're researching some supernatural occurrences here like unexplained events, strange symbols, that sort of thing.”

Dean chimed in, stepping a little away to create space for Nevaeh to feel comfortable in. In all honesty, the woman looked slightly frightened.

“We noticed that there is a lot of demonic activities happening here… And to be honest, this is kinda how we got into this accident yesterday.”

Nevaeh nodded, slowly closing the book and cradling it in her lap. She nervously adjusted her posture. “Wow uhm, so you’re hunters? That explains a lot.”

Sam expressed his genuine guilt,“I’m sorry we kinda lied to you, Nevaeh.”

She offered an awkward smile and replied, “No, no. I get it, it’s just not something… everyone does.”

Although Nevaeh appeared outwardly calm and composed, underneath her poised demeanor, she was in turmoil. She was silently screaming inside her own mind.

Nevaeh had unwillingly stumbled into an unfortunate situation, dealing with hunters whose prey was the very same demons she had been fleeing. Her emotions raced, and she felt lost, trapped in a sea of confusion. She questioned herself, wondering why she couldn't escape from the grip of these supernatural happenings. While she had distanced herself from her father, she couldn't help but contemplate whether he had motives other than exploiting her unique abilities. Maybe her father also loved his daughter and not only God.

“So, what do you want from me again?” She asked again.

Dean smiled, attempting to build a semblance of trust between them. “Is there any chance you know stuff about… a nephilim?

Nevaeh raised her eyebrows and averted her gaze, unsure about revealing her knowledge or her true nature, “Are you hunting one?”

“No, no—,” Sam interjected, seeking to clarify, “We’re trying to track it down, as it attracts so many demons. You know, before anyone dies because of the demons.”

A critical expression laced over her face, “Sure, but what should a nephilim do about that? It doesn’t need demons to guide over them or something. Such a creature is powerful,” she responded, growing increasingly annoyed as she indirectly referred to herself. She resented addressing her own kind as "it," feeling dehumanized and isolated.

“We don't fully understand the connection between demons and nephilim,” Sam clarified, but his explanation only seemed to heighten Nevaeh's suspicion. Her body language became defensive, signaling her growing discomfort.

“Let’s say you do catch it, then what?” she pressed.

Dean, sensing the urgency of their mission, cleared his throat and answered, “Well, we happen to be acquainted with an angel-“

Sam interjected, giving Dean a stern look, "You can't just tell her!"

“Yes, I can. you know how crucial this is,” Dean’s gaze headed back to the striking eyes of Nevaeh, who fumbled with her fingernails, “Look, there's an angel who is currently in a conflict with Heaven. Lucifer has been set free and is possibly attempting to exterminate humankind. We don't want to harm the nephilim, but we're hoping it can assist us in putting Lucifer back in his cage.”

With the brief yet informative explanation, Nevaeh visibly relaxed and gestured that she was ready to leave. The two men followed her, and as they walked back to the repair shop, a heavy silence enveloped them.

Nevaeh utilized this quiet interlude to ponder the brothers' request. She had no intention of revealing her true nature, as she held deep reservations about the Winchesters and their angelic ally, suspecting the angel might be deceptive.

However, she couldn't simply stand by and let her father unleash unspeakable horrors upon the world. The newfound information on the goals of Lucifer let her previous hope totally vanish, only bringing her rage to cook more.

Before they entered the garage, she stopped and turned to face the towering men, her expression one of distrust and concern.

“Okay. Then, you tell me all you know about Lucifer’s wrongdoings and I’ll research the nephilim for you, and I’ll accompany you both after your car was fixed. I have my personal reasons to help you,” she declared, making her intentions abundantly clear.

“Thank you so much, but you don’t have to come along,” Sam responded with a tone of care. Nevaeh shook her head firmly, her disagreement evident.

“Either this way or no way. Call me when you decided.” Her harsh voice said, before she entered the repair shop, only to pay the bills for the towing service and have a short chat with Joshua. Dean watched her silhouette as she went about her business.

He chuckled, his interest piqued, “I've got to admit, I'm intrigued. A woman who's not afraid to take charge? I'm all ears’.”

“Get a grip, Dean. Let's focus on fixing the car, and I'll take care of getting us some phones,” Sam suggested, breaking the somewhat odd atmosphere that lingered after their conversation.

The younger Winchester couldn’t help but question why Nevaeh was involved in all of this again and again. Though the answer still floated in the future.

#supernatural dean #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural sam #spn fanfic #spn

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