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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months ago

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Hunted | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, smut, unprotected sex (don’t do this, friends), mentions of infertility

Word Count: 5254

A/N: giving the people what they want in this chapter. lol. no one under 18 allowed beyond this point!!!!

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At some point in leaving Oregan behind, Dean pulled off to the side of the road in the middle of nowhere for a break. He pulled three beers out of the cooler in the trunk and leaned against the fence next to you.

Sam turned to his brother. “So. Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?”

You raised a brow at Dean, interested to hear his explanation.

“What do you mean?” the older brother questioned.

“Dean, you said you were tired of the job,” you told him. “That’d be weird enough on its own. But on top of that, you said it wasn’t just because of your dad.”

“Forget it,” Dean gruffly replied.

“No, I can't. No way,” Sam argued.

“Come on man, I thought we were all goin’ to die, you can't hold that over me,” Dean shot back.

Sam straightened his posture, shoulders tensing. “No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do.”

Dean tried to pick up his plucky attitude. “I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to… go to the Grand Canyon.”

“What?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood; see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan,” Dean smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Dean, speak English, please.”

“I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?” he asked.

“Why are you saying all this?” Sam cut back in.

Dean took a deep breath before shaking his head and turning away.

Sam pulled his arm back. “No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit.”

Dean’s face contorted with emotion. “I can't. I promised.”

“Who?” you asked.

“My dad,” he replied simply.

Sam’s face drew together. “What are you talking about?”

Dean looked down at the ground. “Right before Dad died, he told me something.” He took a deep breath before looking up at Sam. “He told me something about you.”

“What?” Sam urged. “Dean, what did he tell you?”

The older brother cast his eyes to the ground. “He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you.”

Sam seemed to relax a bit. “He told you that a million times.”

The other Winchester shook his head, growing more upset. “No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you.”

“Save me from what?”

“He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd—” he turned his head, beginning to tear up.

“You’d what, Dean?” Sam asked gently.

He looked back up at his little brother, tears forming in his eyes. “That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

Sam drew in a sharp breath. “Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know,” Dean shook his head, voice breaking.

“I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?” Sam’s head was beginning to swim; even you could tell that.

“Nothing, that's it, I swear,” Dean breathed out.

“How could you not have told me this?”

“Because it was Dad, and he begged me not to,” Dean responded simply.

Sam’s voice grew angrier. “Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!”

“You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to god he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day,” the older brother yelled right back.

Sam turned and took a few steps away, fuming. “We've just got to figure out what's going on, then, what the hell all this means.”

“We do?” Dean sighed. “I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low, y’know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure—”

The brunet spun back around. “What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?”

“Sam, he never said that,” you jumped in.

“Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean,” Sam continued to mock.

Dean raged at his brother. “I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinnin’ out of control. Alright? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?”

Sam grumbled, “Forget it.”

“Sam, please, man,” the older brother begged. His voice began to break again. “Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please.”

You stared at Sam with bated breath, waiting for his reaction. To your relief, he finally nodded reluctantly.

***

A few hours away, you and the brothers settled on a motel to stop in for the night. You weren’t sure what Dean’s plans were; whether you’d be here for days, weeks, or a month. You began to quiet your mind for the evening only to be disturbed by a knock on the door. To your surprise, it was Dean.

“Hey,” you breathed out. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were only dressed in an oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Wordlessly, Dean slipped past you into your room.

“Oh-kay,” you muttered, closing the door behind him. “What’s up?” you asked him.

He stood awkwardly on the opposite side of the room from you. It was the first time since you’d met him that he wasn’t exuding confidence. “Dean, talk to me. What’s going on?”

He stayed silent, hesitating and running a hand through his hair. “Dammit, you make it so hard to talk to you,” he grumbled, beginning to pace.

“What?” you asked, taken aback. “You know you can tell me anything. I’d hope I’m pretty easy to talk to.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s—” He stopped his pacing. “I wanna tell you everything I just— I’m not good at this.”

You giggled. “Clearly.”

He deadpanned at you.

“Seriously, Dean, spit it out.”

“Can I—” He took a deep breath. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Your breath hitched, and you suddenly realized you hadn’t answered him yet. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said. He clicked on the lamp next to your bed while you turned off the other lights in the room. He crawled into your bed and lifted the covers up for you. You slid in next to him and settled in on your side, facing him. “How you holding up?” you asked.

He blew out a puff of air. “How do you think?” he finally jested.

You frowned sympathetically. “Dean, why didn’t you tell me? I get why you didn’t tell Sam, but… I could’ve helped you.”

“(Y/N),” he sighed. “You know I’m no good at the mushy crap.”

“I don’t think that’s it, though,” you replied. “I think you’ve had to keep shit together for too long. Now, opening up to someone feels foreign to you. And I’d stand to reason you’re worried about burdening me with that stuff.”

He looked away from you, and you could tell you were right.

“You are never burdening me. I like listening to you talk. I like being the person you can unload your crap on,” you admitted. “I care about you. You’re my best friend. I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

“It’s not that I feel like I can’t, I just— I don’t wanna get too close to you.”

Your heart clenched. “Why? You’re confusing me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, I— I don’t want that to be the reason I end up losing you,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You won’t. You are not a burden.”

“(Y/N)—” Dean sighed.

“You’re not!” you protested, putting a hand on the side of his face. “Dean, you are… so important to me. Listening to you is important to me. Let me in, please.” You stroked his cheek with you thumb.

“I’m trying,” he said, reaching up to hold your wrist. He kissed the inside of your wrist gently, savoring the moment before looking back up at you. “I promise, I’m trying. I’ve never been this honest with… anyone, I don’t think.”

You huffed a short laugh. “I’m glad you can trust me. I trust you, too. And… I’m never trying to push you to talk about shit you don’t want to. But I do want you to know, no matter how dark and scary it gets, I’m here.”

Dean nudged your nose with his. You took the opportunity to kiss him gently, the kiss quickly becoming more passionate. Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, hooking your leg around his hips. He then rolled on top of you, continuing to kiss you deeply. You arched your back into him, moaning into his mouth. He ground his hardening cock into your core, and you broke the kiss suddenly.

“Wait, wait, Dean, are you sure you want this?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked breathlessly.

“I mean, with everything going on, do you just… need to blow off some steam? Or… do you really want me?” you asked nervously.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he urged you.

You did.

“I want this. I want you.”

You pulled his face back down to you as he started to grind against you again. You could feel your arousal beginning to soak through your underwear, and Dean could feel it, too.

He smirked down at you. “That all for me?”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again. You broke the kiss only to take his shirt off him. He did the same to you, groaning at the sight of your exposed breasts. You moved to cover yourself, but Dean pinned your hands next to your head.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Don’t hide from me.”

You leaned up to kiss him again, and he began to twist and pinch your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Dean,” you breathed out.

“I know, sweetheart,” he told you. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom. Are you—?”

You shook your head. “I can’t have kids,” you admitted. “Part of the, uh, side effects of being malnourished as a kid,” you laughed uncomfortably. You looked back up at Dean to find him gazing at you sadly.

“It’s okay, really,” you told him. You were telling the truth; you wouldn’t want to bring a child into this life anyway. “Now, are you gonna fuck me, or what?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled. Dean pushed his boxers down with one hand and pulled your panties to the side. You moaned at the feeling of him entering you, chest heaving from the stretch.

“Dean, Dean, slow down,” you pleaded.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. Dean let you adjust to his size as you ran your hands over his chest and along his back, just enjoying the feeling of touching him. Feeling him kept you grounded as he pushed completely into you.

“God, fuck, move, please,” you rushed out breathlessly.

He complied, kissing you again as he toyed with your breasts and rocked into you. You were shocked at the speed your orgasm crept up on you, and you raked your nails up Dean’s spine. “Dee, I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know, me, too—” he said, burying his face in your shoulder. His pace became more frantic and erratic before you finally felt ropes of his cum shooting into you, sending you over the edge along with him. Dean continued to rut into you and press kisses into your neck as he steadied his breathing, and you held onto his shoulders tightly. Still inside of you, he leaned back up to kiss you.

You held either side of his face with your legs wrapped around his waist as you kissed him, relishing in the feeling of your bodies connected. When he did pull out, you moaned at the loss as he tucked himself back into his boxers and adjusted your panties. He gathered up your slick on his index and middle fingers and brought them to his lips. Your breath hitched as he kept eye contact with you while he smirked and licked his fingers clean. He then put his fingers between your lips, and his jaw dropped as you sucked them with your eyes closed in contentment. You pulled Dean’s fingers out of your mouth and kissed them gently before taking his wrist and wrapping his arm around your back.

Dean chuckled and shuffled closer to you in the bed. He held you close to him and rested his forehead against yours. “If vulnerability is gonna get me sex like that, I’ll be spillin’ my guts to you non-stop,” he joked.

You shoved his shoulder playfully and feigned offense.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, pulling you back against his chest. Dean laid on his back, staring up and the ceiling, and had you lying on your stomach on top of his chest, arms encircling your waist.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” you asked.

“Everything.”

***

You woke up wrapped by Dean’s arms the next morning. The two of you hadn’t moved much from the position you fell asleep in; Dean securing you to his chest, and your head tucked under his chin. You sighed contentedly, snuggling more into Dean.

The air would undoubtedly shift between you following last night’s events. You’d told him before you weren’t one for hookups, and you knew he wasn’t one to stay the night with a hookup. Being like this was new for both of you. It almost nauseated you thinking about the possible repercussions of sleeping with him, as you’d never cared as much about someone as you cared about him. He was starting to consume more and more of your heart, and you allowed him willingly.

What scared you was the possibility of being used. You weren’t a very trusting person to begin with, and trusting someone with your heart was entirely new territory for you. You feared that one day, after Dean was over his father’s passing and possibly even tired of having you around, he would be done with you. As this thought crossed your mind, you moved to get out of bed. Dean’s arms tightened around you.

“Where you goin’?” he hummed, eyes still closed.

“Dean, I gotta pee, let me go,” you said.

“Don’t think I will,” he replied, rolling on top of you.

“Dean!” you squealed. “Let me up!”

He began to attack your neck with kisses up to your lips as you giggled and half-heartedly fought him off you.

You pecked him on the lips and pulled your neck back into your pillow slightly to look at him. “You’re cute. I still gotta pee.”

“Argh.” He rolled off of you dramatically and laid back on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

When you’d done your business and brushed your teeth, you asked Dean, “What’d you tell Sam, anyway? I’m surprised he hasn’t called either of us asking where you were. Or broken down the door yet.” You sat back on the bed next to him.

That seemed to strike a chord in him. “Yeah, now that you mention it, that is weird. I didn’t tell him I was leaving. He was knocked out when I left.”

You started to get concerned. “He should definitely be up by now, too. It’s after nine o’clock.”

You saw Dean’s breath catch in his chest with worry, and he immediately pulled on his jeans and shirt from the night before along with his shoes. He left the room as you quickly got dressed, too, brushing your hair back into a haphazard ponytail. You held your phone trying to call Sam between your shoulder and ear as you tugged on your boots. “C’mon, pick up,” you begged into the phone.

Dean returned moments later. “He’s not in the room. Dammit, Sam!”

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine.” You weren’t. “Is the car still here?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the keys, too.”

“What the fuck,” you muttered. “Sam’s phone went to voicemail twice.”

“Shit,” Dean grumbled. “Alright, get your stuff, we’re leaving now.”

You nodded, running around your room to pack the few things you’d taken out of your bag. You beat Dean to the Impala and he sped out of the parking lot more recklessly than usual.

“Slow down, dude, we’re no good to Sam dead,” you scolded.

He didn’t respond to that. “Call Ellen, see if she’s seen him.”

“Already on it.” You pressed the phone to your ear, grateful to hear the woman respond. She told you she hadn’t seen him, but would let you know if she did. You called Bobby; got the same answer. Jo didn’t answer her phone. Sam still wasn’t answering, either.

“Just head to the Roadhouse,” you told Dean. “Ash can probably track ‘im down.”

Dean nodded wordlessly, and you could practically see his mind running a mile a minute. His shoulders were tense, brow set in a hard line, and jaw clenched. You weren’t sure how to help him at that moment, so you just sat by him silently for hours on the road. Then, Ellen called again.

“Hello?” you said. “You heard from Sam?”

“I have, but he made me promise not to tell you where he is,” she replied.

“C’mon, Ellen, please—”

Dean took the phone from you. “Ellen? It’s Dean. Something bad could be going on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid.” A moment or so later, the tension released from his body as he breathed out, “Thanks.” He clicked the phone shut and handed it back to you.

“Lafayette, Indiana,” was all he said for the rest of the drive.

***

When you found Sam, he was at the Blue Rose Motel in a room. You and Dean could see him through the window of his room.

“Oh, thank god you're okay,” Dean breathed out.

Sam moved aside, allowing you and Dean to see the tiny brunette in the room with him.

“Oh, you're better than okay. Sam, you sly dog!” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, I don’t know Sam would drive six hundred miles for pussy,” you quipped. “I think something else is going on here.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye from across the road. It was Gordon on the rooftop of the building, hunched over a sniper rifle he was loading.

“Dean, look,” you rushed out. “We gotta go!”

You sprinted across the street and up the fire escape of the building just as Gordon took a shot. The window on Sam’s room shattered, and Dean jumped Gordon from behind just as he was about to take another shot.

“Gordon!” He kicked Gordon down, hard, pinning him by his collar. He hit him over and over again. “You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!”

You moved to grab the rifle from Gordon, but he smashed the butt of the rifle into your head. It was lights out after that moment.

***

When you came to, you groaned in pain at the pounding in your head. Not quite aware of what was going on yet, you tried to raise a hand to your head only to be stopped by the binds around your wrists. You jerked in your chair and realized your ankles were bound, too.

‘Hey, sweetie,” Gordon monotoned. “Nice of you to join us.”

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed, staring up at him through your eyebrows.

Without missing a beat, he back slapped you. “That's my momma you're talking about.”

Your head still jerked to the side from the slap, you flexed your jaw painfully. “Where’s Dean?” you asked.

As if on cue, you heard him in the next room. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” he called.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Gordon droned.

“What’s your plan, here?” you questioned, ignoring his comment. “Gonna get back at us for leaving you tied up in your own mess for three days?”

“What, you think this is revenge?” His monotone almost broke as he chuckled humorlessly. “This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, sweetie. I'm a hunter. And your boyfriend’s brother is fair game.” Gordon slammed a knife from his canvas duffel bag into its sheath.

“Sam? Why?” you asked.

“Was huntin’ a demon down in Louisiana. She told me all about Sam’s visions. Apparently, a bunch of psychic freaks are supposed to help demons take over the world. And the real kick in the ass: she told me I know one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester,” he said.

“Are you done monologuing, or…?”

He scoffed. “You keep that attitude up. I know it’s just a front. I gotta say, I’m kinda excited to see you and Dean break when Sam goes up in smoke.”

“So, what? You’re gonna use us to lure Sam here, kill him; then what about us? You don’t think we’ll hunt you down to hell and back?” you hissed.

“I do. That’s why I’m gonna kill you, too.”

You snorted.

“Something funny?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s just, you think you’re so good. Do you really believe you’re gonna take us out that easy?”

He considered for a moment. “Honestly? Yeah. There were two of y’all, and I still got the jump on you.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. “Call it a weak moment,” you grumbled.

He snickered and came up behind you, forcing a tie into your mouth. He caught a bit of your hair in the knot as he secured it around your head. “See you on the flipside, sweetheart.” Gordon left the room and shut the door behind him.

You immediately set to work trying to loosen the ropes enough to be able to grab the knife sheathed in your sleeve.

‘Fuck, he tied this shit well,’ you thought. You continued struggling, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

You heard Dean and Gordon talking in the next room, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. You took in the dilapidated room around you filled with debris, and noticed one of the loose wooden boards was just around level with the arms of your chair. You began propelling yourself toward it by making the chair hop in the board’s direction. You paused when you heard footsteps approaching the door to your room. The door creaked open to reveal Gordon, and you stared him down angrily.

“All good in here?” he asked you accusingly.

You couldn’t respond due to the gag tightly secured around your mouth.

“Good. Sammy should be here soon,” he said. He loaded a mag into his rifle and turned to leave the room. You could hear Gordon pacing the floor just outside the room and decided not to move until he left.

Unfortunately, that moment never came. The next thing you heard was a bomb going off. You screamed, muffled by the gag, and immediately began moving back toward your original goal to help you get loose. A second grenade sounded, and you began to sob. You stuck a jutting-out part of the loose board under the rope around your wrist and tugged against it, allowing you room to pull your wrist out. You dragged your hand along the splintered wood, ignoring the scratching and pricks to fully free your wrist. You quickly went to work pulling the knife out of your sleeve to free your other wrist and ankles. You burst through the door and pulled the gag over your head, yelling, “Dean!”

You heard his muffled sobs from beyond the door across from you. You hurried to him, hearing struggling from Gordon in the next room. And… Sam? You were relieved to hear his voice and began cutting Dean free of his binds. Dean ripped his gag off with his free hand and ran a hand over your hair as you finished freeing him.

You looked back up at him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “You?” He gingerly touched the wound on your forehead from where the butt of Gordon’s rifle hit you.

“Yeah,” you said, just as Sam walked into the room.

“I’m fine, too, guys, thanks,” he joked.

“Sam!” You ran to him and threw your arms around him.

“Hey, (Y/N/N).”

Dean was next to hug Sam. He frantically checked his baby brother for injuries. Sam clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder to let him know he was okay. With that, Dean wheeled around in the direction Sam had come from. “That son of a—”

Sam stopped him. “Dean. No.”

Dean shrugged his brother off him. “I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice.”

“Trust me. Gordon's taken care of. Come on,” Sam jerked his head at the door, pulling Dean by his jacket.

Sam staggered down the steps of the cabin, and you caught him as he almost stumbled down the last one.

“You okay, kid?” you asked.

He nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, he got in a few good hits, though.”

You looked at him sadly.

“Trust me, (Y/N), I’m okay.”

Suddenly, a shot fired off whizzing right past your head. “Run!” you yelled, scrambling across the street to find cover in the woods.

“You call this taken care of?” Dean grunted at his brother.

Sam grabbed you and Dean and pulled you into the ditch next to him.

“What the hell are we doing?” Dean questioned.

“Just trust me on this, alright?”

Your breath quickened as Gordon continued to approach your hiding spot with his gun cocked. However, to your relief, cops emerged from their cars with sirens blazing, cornering Gordon.

“Drop your weapons! Get down on your knees!” one cop yelled, pointing his gun at Gordon.

You grinned at Sam as Gordon was apprehended, glaring in your direction. The cops pulled out the weapons rack in the back of Gordon’s car.

“Anonymous tip,” Sam whispered.

“You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam,” Dean commented.

You giggled, leaning against Sam to hug him as you continued watching Gordon’s arrest. “Only thing that would make this better would be some popcorn.”

***

You called Ellen to explain the situation to her. “Apparently, Gordon was hunting Sam,” you told her. “And he apparently had some Roadhouse connections.” You were fuming when Dean told you that, but also refused to let Dean rip into that poor woman. You decided to handle the issue yourself.

“And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way,” she said.

“Well, who else knows about Sam?” you questioned accusingly. “I mean, you must have been talking to somebody.”

“Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this,” she replied sharply.

“Are you sure? I wanna trust you, but this guy almost killed us. I need to know the truth,” you told her.

“(Y/N), sweetie, this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together.” She sighed. “I am sorry about what happened. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe.”

“Okay,” you said finally. “Thanks, Ellen.” You hung up the phone and sat back against the passenger’s side door of the Impala as Dean continued driving. Sam had been on a phone call of his own, but apparently, he’d been sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Ava, it's Sam. Again. Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. Alright. Bye.”

“Everything alright?” Dean asked his younger brother.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least,” the older brother chuckled.

“Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him.”

A potentially unfortunate thought crossed your mind. “And if he doesn't bust out.”

A silence settled over the car.

“Dude, you ever take off like that again—” Dean warned.

Sam snorted. “What? You’ll kill me?”

“That is so not funny,” you chimed in.

“Alright, alright. So where to next, then?” Sam asked.

Dean smirked. “One word: Amsterdam.”

“Dean!” you and Sam exclaimed.

“C’mon, guys, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee,” he snickered.

“I'm not just gonna ditch the job,” Sam protested.

“Honestly, Dean, me neither,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “Fuck the job. Fuck it. I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck.”

“Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do,” the younger brother said.

“Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.”

Sam tilted his head. “You mean you don't believe in my destiny.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the older brother mumbled.

“Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me,” Sam continued.

Dean looked at him significantly. “I can try.”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes stared back at him. “Thanks for that,” he said quietly. “Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

“Bitch,” Dean grumbled.

“Jerk.”

You giggled at the brothers. “You guys are breakin’ my heart up there. You gonna hug or somethin’?”

“Shut up, (Y/N),” both brothers chided.

You laughed again.

Dean noticed Sam fiddling with his phone again. “You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?”

“She's engaged, Dean.”

“So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?”

“Ew, Dean,” you grimaced.

Dean smirked lasciviously at you in the rearview mirror. You rolled your eyes, holding back a smile.

Sam hung up the phone, scowling in thought.

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?”

***

When you arrived— well, broke and entered— at Ava Wilson’s house, you were horrified by what you found. A man was lying face-up on the bed, clothes, sheets, and hair soaked in blood.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out.

“Hey,” Dean called from the window sill. “Sulfur. Demon's been here.”

You caught sight of something on the floor and picked it up. It was an engagement ring. You held it up to Sam.

His reply was one whispered word: “Ava.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernautral #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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darkdemeter · 1 month ago

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✘GUIDE HER WAY HOME THE REQUEST SERIES, AU'S AND GAME EDITION

Hello and welcome to the GHWH masterlist! It started with a few requests submitted by an anon that grew to become what it is now, a full fledged series complete with AUs and extensions, side adventures that weave between the main story issues and parts for the game edition of Darksiders Genesis: Guide Her Way Home, and if child!reader was a playable character in the franchise.

MAIN STORY ↳ issue #1 / issue #2 / issue #3 issue #4 / issue #5 / issue #6 issue #7 / issue #8 / issue #9 ────────────────────────

SIDE ADVENTURES ↳ ────────────────────────

HEADCANONS ↳ ────────────────────────

GHWH (WHAT IF...) ↳ issue: A Little Helper / issue: A Pretentious Door ────────────────────────

AU ENDINGS/STORYLINES ↳ ────────────────────────

GAME EDITION: content under development...

HEADCANONS ↳ Chara Cinnamon - issue / Camp - issue ────────────────────────

──────────── page here ────────────

#darksiders #guide her way home series masterlist #platonic darksiders x reader

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

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interlude: sundown (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader summary: as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives. au: darksided (masterlist), established relationship type: drabble | smut + fluff word count: 1.9k rating: 18+ cw: pov switch, min yoongi gets pegged 🙌🏻, afab!reader, needy & subby yoongi, v soft dom!reader, praise kink unlocked!!, anal fingering, sex w/ strap on, k*ss*ng (eek!) a/n 1: you thought i’d get through a(u)gust without a yoongi fic? pleaaaaase. this is part of the darksided series, so i recommend checking out the other installments first, just so you have all the context. this can be read as a stand-alone drabble, though! this one takes place after blindsided, btw. a/n 2: i don’t spend much time talkin’ ‘bout prep due to the word limit, but it is both implied & v important. be safe! 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You can’t say what came over you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, you know that much. The only explanation you can fall back on is that the feral part of your brain simply took over, and your inner construction worker popped out to say hello — but that’s not entirely accurate.

In reality, it was less of a greeting and more of a “Damn, baby! That ass.”

Mere meters away, your boyfriend is bent over the bookshelf he’s been working hard to assemble — a task you were politely banished from executing, not thirty minutes ago. When he finally registers what you just blurted out, he stands back up to his full height and glances over his shoulder at you. His expression lands somewhere between bewildered and tickled fucking pink.

“Did you just catcall me?”

“I — I think…” You’re more shocked than he is, it seems. Blinking slowly doesn’t help you process your actions any quicker, so you give up and grimace through your admission. “I might have?”

Of the two of you, it’s Yoongi that truly has all the audacity in the world. After setting his screwdriver down onto the coffee table, he crosses his arms loosely over his chest and bites back a smug grin.

“You think you know a person after seven entire years of dating,” he tuts. “Then, they turn around and harass you — in your own home, no less.” Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he shakes his head and sighs, “Life comes at you fast.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him with your incredulous mouth halfway open. It’s the most that anyone should expect from you at a time like this, when he’s looking at you like that — characteristically semi-flustered, and still so unshakably self-assured. With narrowed eyes, you opt to hone in on the former.

“You’re out here smuggling cake in broad daylight — looking downright bite-worthy —”

Peeling yourself off the couch, you cross over to him with your hands raised defensively. When you reach him, you plant those same hands on your hips and heave an exasperated sigh.

“What was I supposed to do? Pretend otherwise?”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow but says nothing, simply aiming his flat-lined smile your way. All it takes is your slow, expectant blinking for him to take the hint. Just like that, you fall into a well-practiced routine: him opening up to pull you into his chest, you lacing your arms around his waist, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

And even though you haven’t left the house all day, this is the first moment that truly feels like home. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s —

“Bite-worthy, huh?”

You can’t see his smirk, but you can hear it.

“Surely, this is not the first time this is being brought to your attention.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi concedes. His low chuckle tickles every vertebrae on its way down your spine. The tingling only intensifies when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “I just haven’t heard it from you before. You’re behind the curve, so to speak.”

You pause for two reasons: the subtle genius of his phrasing and the new bit of trivia he seems to be alluding to. Is he — ?

“You’ve pegged?” You ask, glancing curiously up at him.

The answer wouldn’t surprise you one way or another. More than anything, you’re impressed that the two of you still find things to learn about each other. That you can spend the better part of a decade with someone, side-by-side, and never run out of new conversations to have.

When he tilts his chin to look down at you, his expression is a perfect mirror of yours.

“You haven’t?”

Yoongi’s head crashes back against the pillows before his sigh can slip fully from his mouth. The impact seems to knock it loose; it floats away, above your bowed head. The sound gets lost somewhere underneath that of your open-mouthed kisses trailing so fucking softly across the bare skin of his chest.

If his heart stops with every flick of your tongue over one of his nipples, you resuscitate him just as quickly with praise.

Apparently, being told he’s beautiful has the same physiological effect on him as a shot of epinephrine.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans from deep in his chest when your mouth ventures far enough to kiss the tip of his cock. That action is fairly chaste, all things considered, but the way his pre-cum shines like gloss on your lips is beyond obscene.

You smile with your eyes alone as you take him into your mouth — and you think he’s beautiful?

He can’t think of a single prettier sight than you and your fluttering lashes, looking up at him like he’s the one that hung the stars in the sky. Ridiculous. It’s him that frays a little further at the edges with every glance down at you.

Pulling away with a lewd pop, you murmur, “You can be more vocal than that, can’t you, baby?”

Oh, god.

The smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart leap and his cock twitch. Untouched, it jumps and re-settles against his abdomen.

“Yes.” He fires off his response like a bullet at point-blank range, and you chuckle quietly at his eagerness. Breathless already, he amends, “Fuck yes.”

One eyebrow arches just enough to indicate that you expect a more detailed response. He should know better by now, shouldn’t he? He’s teased you this way a thousand times before, and it’s about time that he tastes his own medicine. Acknowledging that fact, he stoops to begging.

“Please. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

Nodding appreciatively, you trace your finger along the underside of his shaft and leave him on the brink of losing his goddamn mind. He’d gladly let you drive him insane this way, but you take that hand away and gesture for him to turn over. As you do, you hum, “And I want to see you on your knees, love.”

Yoongi takes your instructions and runs with them, barely careful enough to avoid knocking you backwards off the bed in the process. He settles on his knees, then looks back over his shoulder just in time to watch you pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

You look nervous, though you try to hide it. He’s no stranger to that worried crease between your eyebrows; and he can’t help the downward curve of his mouth when he sees it.

There’s never been — and will never be — a person he trusts more than you. Careful, perfect, sweet. You couldn’t hurt him even if you tried, and he knows without question that you never would. You, however, seem less sure of that.

Yoongi has to twist back around to do it, but he cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you deep, with everything he has.

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours a second time. It carries more meaning than that; he suspects you hear each one.

I trust you.

It’s okay.

Already reassured, you whisper back to him with darkening eyes, “Elbows on the mattress, then, Min Yoongi.”

To say that he collapses against the comforter would be an understatement. He’s certifiably boneless the second your fingertips trace down the length of his spine, though his hunger for your touch starts him shivering.

“Relax, sweet thing,” you tell him. To encourage him, you lean forward and press your lips to the small of his back; instantly, you soothe the tension his body holds as if you’ve flipped a switch. It’s automatic, just like the low groan he emits when you murmur, “Good boy.”

The quiet that follows is ultimately interrupted by the faint slosh of liquid. He has to beg himself not to clench at the mere thought of your slicked fingers, so he instead lets his mouth fall open when he feels them glide over his rim. Needier than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life, Yoongi whimpers.

It’s a pathetic little sound, but he doesn’t dare to try and swallow it down. He’ll give you everything; every pleading sigh and shuddered moan, all of it.

And — as a courtesy — he’ll refrain from calling you a liar because there is no fucking way that you haven’t done this before.

It’s simply unbelievable with how expertly you navigate the intricacies of his body, applying perfect pressure where he craves it. With the way you translate his incoherent whining to a plea for more, giving him exactly what he wants.

Two fingers deep, you tease, “So greedy, aren’t you baby?”

But there’s no harshness to your tone, so soft around the edges. In fact, your little snicker suggests that you’re impressed. It takes all he has not to cum at the sound alone.

“Just for you — ” He responds through gritted teeth, blissed-out eyes squeezing shut. “— F-fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

When you slip away from him, he proves your point, whining petulantly. You soothe him with an affectionate squeeze to his ass cheek, chuckling all the while. “Should we fix that, then?”

Yoongi has no idea what words he slurs in an attempt to answer that question, but he hopes he tells you how badly he craves your cock. He must, he figures, because he hears the telltale glide of the nightstand’s top drawer when you pull it open.

His head lifts from the blankets below to catch a glimpse of you settling the harness over your hips. For a moment, he forgets when, where, and who he is. The only reality he can currently comprehend is the one in which you’re running your fist down black silicone as if it’s a part of you, spreading slick from a bottle.

But then you disappear from his line of sight, leaving him disoriented. He misses you already.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look on your knees.”

The mattress dips under your weight, signaling to him that you’ve settled behind him once again. You tap the length of the dildo against his skin, prompting him to groan. Still teasing, you ask, “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, angel?”

Shit, shit, shit.

Yoongi feels the tip hovering near his hole and he can’t keep his racing heart in check, so desperate that he’s practically vibrating. Your next words pull him further apart; they sound especially filthy in your light, almost reverent tone.

“Show me how well you can take me.”

He plans to do just that.

Slowly pushing back against you, Yoongi sinks down your length until that indescribable fullness leaves him starry-eyed and keening. After a few measured breaths, the ache subsides and gives way to pure pleasure.

Your praise is gentle, though the effect it has on him is earth-shattering. “Just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

Withdrawing, he leans forward onto his elbows just to repeat the motion, losing himself more and more with every pass.

“Shit,” he hiccups, head drooping so that his forehead meets his forearms.

He only grows more eager when your hands claim his hips. You guide his body back to yours every time he leaves; whispering little wishes that he fuck himself the way you swear he deserves.

You must hear his ragged breaths over the clap of his skin against yours and sense that he’s close because you hum, “Sweet thing. Are you going to make yourself cum?”

Yoongi shakes his head fervently, although not for the reason you might think.

“Want you to,” he begs on an exhale. “Please, make me cum. N-need you deeper.”

Small hands flatten against his shoulder blades and press him further down against the bed. With fists full of the sheets, Yoongi gives you a desperate nod, signaling you to take over.

And you do — without the hesitation he saw in you earlier, proving for the millionth time that you know exactly how to make him fall apart.

And he does — with a cry, so delirious and fucked out that he goes boneless underneath you.

When his body eventually stops trembling, Yoongi feels you pull out of him. He hears the quiet click as you unfasten the harness. Shortly after, his senses are overwhelmed with the warmth of your body coming down gently to cover his, warding off the emptiness that started to settle in your absence.

“You’re perfect.” You mumble with lips pressed to his sweat-slicked neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Funnily enough, he was just thinking the same thing about you.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

tagging: @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @jihopesjoint @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @bbyorchid @persphonesorchid @quarter-life-crisis2 @zelchena @withluvjm @firesighgirl @whatthefsposts @iadelicacy @chimmisbae @cowboylikeyoongi @sailoryooons @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @minholykingofkorea @kookstempo @gimmethatagustd @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhintothevoid @mgthecat @taegeum @purplebeebs @serendididy @piecsblog

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#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #bts imagine #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #myg #jade writes #re: darksided #re: interlude sundown #kvanity

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chloe-skywalker · 8 months ago

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I Won't Leave You - Cal Kestis

Cal x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 240

Summary: Cal proves he loves you by saying he would never turn to the Darkside because of her.

Masterlist

STARWARS Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked as he comes to sit by Y/n. He noticed her acting off since they got back to the Mantis, and Cal wanted to know why.

“They gave you a good offer.” Y/n said not lifting her gaze from the floor, as she played with the rings on her fingers.

“Y/n-”

“You have to admit it’s an enticing one. No more running, no more hiding.” She let out a non amused laugh.

“I would never join the Empire. I’d never turn to the Darkside.” Cal speaks up, he knew that he was getting a little defensive but how could she think after they’ve been through he’d join the Empire and become a sith? “Why do you think I’d take their offer?”

Y/n sighed, still not looking at him. “It’d make your life easier.”

“I won’t leave you.” Cal stated grabbing her hands, making her look at him. “I could never leave you, and I’d never turn to the Darkside.”

“You mean that?” Y/n asked, looking at him with pleading eyes, hoping he truly meant that. That he wouldn’t leave her, or be taken from her like so many had been already.

“I mean every word.” Cal promises her, pulling her into him wrapping his arms around her tightly. He’d never become a Sith, he’d never join the Darkside of the Empire. Most of all he’d never leave Y/n. Not for anything.

taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97

#cal kestis #cal kestis imagines #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis imagine #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #jedi #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order imagines #imagine #imagines

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keelt9 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2

Masterlist

Mom keeps talking about how happy she is that we finally spend time together after so many years, just like the old times.

She grabs my face. “Now the 9 years of difference are almost imperceptible.”

“Mom! I don't look that old!” Lewis choked with his fruit.

“You wish you looked like this at my age.” He sat straight. I was about to speak but mom interrupted us.

“Keep eating, keep eating.”

This week I'll be at our parents house, so Lewis can have a few days off from me.

A Wednesday night mom entered the kitchen where Jewel keeps at my side.

“How is the project going?” I'm buried in papers, madeleines and tea.

I scoff and take my glasses. “Good? I don't know, I never imagined this amount of responsibility.”

Mom serves a cup of tea, and sits next to me. “He said you're doing pretty well.” I scoff and watch the papers and empty pens, picking up all the things so we can talk calmly.

“Next is?” I pat Jewel and gave her a piece of carrot which reject at the second bite. Lewis and his idea about trying to become her vegetarian, it's useless.

“Miami.”

I’m melting like ice, if I thought the first day we arrived was hot I was clearly short about how hot the day of the race is.

“How much weight will he lose?” I asked the doctor who weighs Lewis and George.

“Between 4 or 5 kilos.” I opened my eyes. “Maybe 6.”

“SIX?! Oh my word!” Lewis laughed and set properly his race suit one more time. “Drive safe, all right?” He nods and kisses my cheek.

I walk to the hospitality area, 50 minutes until the race begins although I see Checo chatting with Yuki, a casual talk in the way both are laughing. This time Red Bull is in front of Mclaren and Mercedes next to them.

Checo saw me and waved his hand, so I walked closer to greet him properly.

“Hi. Yuki have you met Y/N?” Yuki made a small bow and I did the same. “She is Lewis sister.”

Yuki opened his eyes, like he just knew a big secret.

“How are you?” Checo asks me, I move my hand trying to have a fresh breeze of air.

“Melting, but I'm fine.” Both giggle.

Yuki is the first young driver I officially met, beside George of course. “It's your first time in the paddock?”

Checo saw me with pressed lips. “Kind of.” It’s a half honest answer. “I'm dying to be in Japan, that definitely will be my first time.”

Yuki smiles as we get involved in a deep talk about food and places I should visit in the few days we'll be there.

“It’s hot, definitely hot.” We turn around and see Max walking right to us. “Morning Yuki, Y/N.”

I don't want to be rude with Yuki so I cut the conversation as friendly as I can. “I count on you for that, all right?”

Yuki nodded and I said goodbye to them bumping fists with Checo.

“What did I say this time?” Max says it almost right to my face. Checo laughs and pat his teammate back.

“You’re on the darkside, mate.” Max bluffs but raises his voice as I walk away.

“FINE! IT DOESN'T MATTER!” I roll my eyes when I enter the hospitality building.

A tricky race, Lewis fought until the last lap but just reached the sixth position. It hasn't been his weeks and he knows it by the way he goes down this car and walks slowly to the garage.

This time I took a risk and waited for him at the back of the garage, even here I could hear the noise of camera shots, reporters and all the talks from the mechanics.

Lewis was surprised I was there. “Hey.” I smile and give him a small push, making just the faith of a smile appear on his face.

“You get back, don’t pressure yourself too much.” He just nods and keeps walking to change his clothes, definitely mad about his performance.

By the time we arrived at the hotel Lewis put on his best facade during the day and tried to fool us but the one who knew him, saw something was going on.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked me as we left the paddock.

“Actually, I prefer rest, tomorrow I have an early flight and I still have things to work on.” I’m hungry but I know he always chooses to make me company when actually he's dying from a proper rest.

Lewis is about to complain but I grab his hand on the SUV. “It’s ok, I eat a lot in the hospitality and I always can order room service.” He laid back in the seat. “Just rest, all right?”

I don't lie, I kept working on some drawings until my stomach started to growl, but I needed fresh air, so I took my purse and phone and went out for dinner.

After a quick research online I found myself waiting on a food truck for a burrito and a lemonade, with the ocean at my back and a humid ambient.

“Here you have. Enjoy your food.” A young woman gave me my order, I thanked her sitting in one of the benches they have.

It’s a peaceful night of course with a Grand Prix this morning, you can hear from time to time chattings about the drivers, the race and the results.

“I'm telling you, it was insane!” A man is walking hand in hand with a girl, who is thrilled as him, for the way she makes little jumps and talks with her hands.

“It will be out of this world, be this close to a car.” She narrows the distance of her fingers.

I scoff as I clean my fingers after finishing my dinner, even in the most random place people agree with Max.

I go back walking to the hotel, just a 20 minute walk; I need to do the last adjustment before I leave. I was talking with the receptionist when loud laughs and mumblings distract me.

Carlos, Charles, Lando, George and Max enter the hotel making the few people still up late at night and staff members look at them.

“Miss?” The receptions remind me of what we were talking about.

I asked her to please wake me up at 4 am, and disobey Lewis' order, they don’t wake him up. I take full responsibility for him not getting upset leaving a handwritten note.

“Sorry.” I ended up writing the note and gave it to her. “Thank you so much.” The girl smiles at me before I take my phone and walk, seeing the photos of Nicola with the kids and Roscoe.

Until I almost hit my face with the floor of the lobby.

“Don’t worry, nothing is going to happen to you tonight.” I didn’t even notice the fast reaction of Max grabbing my left arm.

The half twisted smile and the fact he's holding too to a chair, make me take my arm from his hand.

“I'm fine, thanks.” Max stares at Charles who has a red face almost like a tomato, sitting in the chair.

“Long legs, you almost make a girl fall, that's rude.” I refuse to get involved in this so I start to walk to the elevator.

“Wait, I'll take you to your room.” Max panicked and corrected himself. “To the door of your room, not inside of your room, at the frame of your door.”

I bluff, he's definitely drunk and the only one staying alone there; Charles, is talking with a girl who is coming for him.

I want to leave him there, I truly want to, but the half closed eyes and the fact he believes he is the savior when I easily could get in trouble, makes me doubt.

I clicked the bottom for the elevator but he sits on the chair.

“Goodness gracious.” I whisper to myself before walking back and pull him to the elevator.

He looks at me with his eyes as open as possible, still I didn't even say a word.

The 10 floors seem eternal as the elevator goes up, I keep tipping the floor with my feet as it could make it go faster, getting distracted when I feel Max is sliding.

I complain internally about dad always teaching us help every time you can. I grabbed his arm and put it around me, at least he could lean on me.

“Which one is your floor?” The smell of whisky is perceptible.

“What? No, no, I'll take you. You're the one who almost got hurt.” I clicked my tongue; discussing with him is harder, now, being drunk could be a pain.

“Ok, at least you should tell me, just in case I need more help.” My words are pure irony.

He sighs and a rumble laugh comes out of him along with a. “Smart girl.”

My giggle is an honest one. “Yes, I know.”

When we reach the 12th floor Max keeps mumbling things about the race, the night and why he “thinks” he’s probably drunk.

“Ok, which one is yours?” I practically dragged him out of the elevator begging no one else where in the hallway.

He splits and leans on the wall. “No, no, no. You first.” He highcough, still I know I have to be patient.

“Why don’t we go to your room, calm and then you could leave on mine? If you throw up, at least I prefer to be in your room.” He scoffs but nods.

“Omg, Max?” I feel my blood turn cold when I hear another voice. “I thought you would say any drinks tonight.” A man runs to him and holding him avoids him crashing on the floor.

“It was the plan, just…” He plays with his fingers before grabbing the man shirt. “A few.”

“Let’s go, I’ll take you to your room.” But Max splits and points to me.

“No, we almost made this young girl fall, I must leave her in her room safe.” Finally the man noticed my existence and smiled in an apologetic way.

“I’m sorry, but one of the girls called to the reception about Max making a scene in the lobby but when I arrived he was already gone.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Harry, teammate of Max.”

I take his hand. “Y/N Hamilton.” He blinked rapidly.

“Y/N Ham… Hamilton. Lewis sister?” He mumbled, still Max answered for me.

“His little sister, to be more clear.” Harry threw lethal eyes to him.

“You made Lewis little sister carry you up here in these conditions?” Max nods slowly and makes me smile. “Oh, right, I almost forgot, almost made her fall.”

“Fuck yeah.” Max answers and walks where I still was standing.

“No, no, let’s go Max, you need to lay down.” Harry tries to grab him but he already has his arm around my shoulders holding me tight.

It’s obvious he won’t let go of his nonsense of leaving in my room.

“Hey Max, let’s do what I propose, all right? Then you could leave in my room.” In his condition, as soon as he touches his bed he falls asleep. Harry watches us unsure however follows us until his room.

Inside I walked with him to his bed as Harry closed the door and ordered a strong coffee to his room. When we reached the border of his bed I carefully made him sit but he fell backwards and closed his eyes, like I predicted.

I was about to leave him when he spoke, turning to his left side. “Y/N, you’re pretty strong you know that?”

His words left me surprised with a strange sensation of pride. Harry enters and apologizes one more time, saying he takes care of him.

“Thanks Y/N. Most of the people will leave him, making sure they win a good post on their feeds.” I nod before walking out of the room, this time after 20 minutes I arrive at my room.

By the time I was about to get in the plane, I received a text from Lewis complaining that I must wait for him to at least he take me to the airport but I calmed him down saying I take one of his boys to do that.

“Try to have fun, ok?” I keep reading his text before entering the house.

After my no-wedding I barely see my friends, I feel so ashamed and embarrassed even though there were just a few ones who used it all the “momentum” against me. This is the first time I came to a birthday party fully convinced.

“It's nice you came Y/N, thanks.” Thomas hugs me after I finally get the chance to talk to him, he’s the birthday boy.

“Oh my, look who’s here!” The voice of Hanna or I must say the scream makes Thomas sigh and I tense my whole body.

“I’m sorry but even if I tried, she always is in the wrong moment.”

I take a deep breath before facing one more time my “best friend” who tactfully reminded me after and during 5 months of my broken heart.

“Go, I can deal with her.” Thomas is about to speak but it's his birthday, the last thing he needs is stress on his day. “I’m fine.”

Thomas nods and walks away as Hanna comes closer, a drink in her hand and poison accumulation in her mouth.

“My girl, it’s been what? 9 or 10 months since we saw you?” Both of us know the last time she saw me it’s the day after my wedding. “And you barely reply to my texts.”

“Yes, I've been kind of bussy.” I play with the ice of my drink to avoid making eye contact.

Hanna fake a compressive smile, predicting something she will say. “I can imagine after a failure like an almost wedding, there are a thousand things to do.”

Even now she gets under my skin so easily.

“I sent you the invitation for my party but you didn't reply or anything like that.” She takes a sip of her drink.

“You know, it's the 21st century, when something is unwanted, hateful or something like that the mail goes right to the spam.” I turn around to see Mika challenge her.

Mika is a friend from the college who Hanna always told me it’s a witch, I guess it was her reflection in the mirror.

“Mika, nice to see you.” Hanna said, trying to kill her with her eyes.

“I love to say the same but…” Mika eats his olive and smiles. “It’s stressful to see you.”

Hanna scoffs but I learn something about Mika all the months she helps me pack and making sure I barely see people who were enjoying seeing me that hurt, she doesn’t leave a prayer alive.

“But hey! Don’t worry, I’m not the only one who thinks the same here.” Hanna takes a deep breath before leaving us.

I take out all the air I’ve counted and smile at Mika. “Thanks.”

She smiles. “She’s been hunting you since she arrived, I was at the backyard with the food but Thomas gives heads up.” She takes the last sip of his martini. “Nevermind her, let’s party all night.”

I spent the night talking with friends, drinking and enjoying the night dancing, until the clock marked 2:37 am, and my legs screamed for rest.

I say goodbye to everyone leaving Thomas and Mika at the end. “Thank you for inviting me.” I hug Thomas at his door.

“Thanks for coming, hey, when you’re in town give us a call, any plan could come out.” He smiles at me.

“And if you need something for the refuge, we love to help.” Mika said, almost dragging her words.

I was about to get in the cap when unlucky Hanna realized I was about to leave.

“Y/N make sure at least just pass another 4 months until we see you again.” The bloody wink makes my blood boil.

The next morning I was received in the kitchen with an aspirin, and a black coffee.

“Long, funny night?” Dad smiles at me with a newspaper in his hands.

I cover my eyes with a napkin. “How can people do this every weekend?”

Dad chuckles and I hear the slow but heavy steps in the wood floor along the gasp, Roscoe is coming.

“Hi, baby.” I carness his head as he closes his eyes. “Wait a little bit more and you’ll be with me.”

After the race in Italy, I already talked with Lewis about taking Roscoe a week earlier before the race in Monaco, a little help and a needed backup for the team.

“Me?” Dad asks standing to prepare the breakfast, I roll my eyes and clarify.

“Us, you’ll be with us.” I sat on the floor and gave a kiss to him. “Let’s keep a secret, I'm your favorite.”

I arrived the night before the race, I had two visit schedules for seeing apartments and made it impossible for me to leave until the night; that’s why I don’t see my brother until early morning, indeed early morning.

“Morning.” I appeared at the restaurant of the hotel where he and Bottas were having breakfast before getting ready to go to the paddock.

“Oh, hi, I thought I’ll see you in the paddock.” I kiss his cheek before giving a hug to Bottas.

“I’m hungry.” I joke as I sit with them, Bottas giggles and calls for the waitress.

“Something doesn't change.” We looked at him with curious eyes. “For winning something with his young lady, food is a shortcut.”

Lewis laughs nodding incessantly. “I couldn't agree more.”

Arriving at the paddock when the drivers are doing the same, is total chaos, people, reporters and cameras all over the place, it’s like an obstacle race.

I walked to the Mercedes hospital next to Red Bull and in front of Ferrari, my eyes were stuck on my phone, when I felt someone soft touch.

I lift my eyes and I recognize the girl in front of me, the same that picked up Chalres. “Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Alexandra, Charles' girlfriend.” I nod, but don’t say another word. “I want to apologize for leaving you alone the other night.”

Oh I got it. “Oh, no worries, it’s ok.” I smile honestly as I put my hand on her arm.

“I hope someone went fast to help you, I tried to go back but Charles was a little bit of a troublemaker that night.” Well, at least I wasn’t the only one with that situation.

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re the one who called to pick him?” Alexandra nods. “Thank you, and yeah, someone help me.”

“Great! I think I'm seeing you around right?” I realized I didn't introduce myself.

“We could say that, I’m Lewis sister, Y/N.” She smiles but we were interrupted by Charles, who has an embarrassed expression.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He giggles and covers his face with his hands. “I’m so embarrassed with you.”

Alexandra giggles, it's obvious the love in her eyes. “When Alex told me what happened…” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, containing the laugh. “It’s ok, don’t worry, I understand, great race.”

“Max wasn't that drunk.” Alexandra plays with him, making him raise his eyebrow. “She’s in fact Lewis sister.”

“Oh, he's definitely going to throw up this time.” Charles noticed the confusion on my face. “When Aelx told us what happened, Max said he had blurry memories of you helping him but we thought it’s the hangover, clearly it’s not.”

“Talking about the king of Rome.” Alexndra points to Max who’s coming out of Red Bull hospitality.

When I turn around I see a red Max walking… dragging his feets to us, the blue t-shirt just makes the redness intensify.

“Am, Y/N?” Rosa calls me to appear at the door. “Your brother is looking for you.” I nod but the fact I don’t move makes her say one more thing. “Like, now.”

I open my eyes and before Max reaches us I apologize to them and wish Charles a good race, running inside as she holds the door for me.

“Making friends?” She smiles at me as I walk inside and put an arm around me.

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